The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shattered crystal stalactites are slowly reforming themselves in mid-air amidst the musty darkness of an abandoned crystal mine. Uh, air's thick with dust and the smell of aged clay, the atmosphere's heavy with the weight of countless millennia, and this low, sonorous hum is resonating through the ancient rocks. As I move, delicate filaments of crystalline silk are spooling out from somewhere above, weaving themselves into the rocky outcroppings like an organic network of ethereal catenaries. Meanwhile, gravity's functioning normally for me, but in certain patches, liquid water's pooling on the walls and ceiling.