The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Glittering ice shards are scattered across a massive, sprawling factory floor, reflecting pale light from what looks like a frozen sunset... the air's charged with a faint electric hum, and I can smell grease and ozone-free air, which is weird, considering all the machinery's covered in frost. A series of massive mechanical looms are still and silent, half-finished weaving iridescent fabric that's slowly unraveling... like, there's no sound except the gentle crunch of ice expanding in the stillness, and, uh, the stars in the windows above are shining right through the metal roof.