The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The sun beats down on a vast, empty shipping container yard, with water somehow flowing upwards from the pavement into the containers, making them rattle and creak occasionally. Like, it smells kinda like rust and saltwater in the air, which is super still. The screens on a bunch of old, battered laptops stuck in the containers are updating with cryptocurrency price predictions and displaying Ethereum logos, their keyboards somehow covered in perfectly arranged stacks of poker chips. Meanwhile, the laptops seem to be somehow synced up with the sounds of waves crashing from the ocean a few miles away.