The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, the interior of a partially disassembled, vintage nuclear submarine is somehow merged with a sprawling, naturally occurring quartz crystal cave. Like, the air's stale and there's a faint smell of burned wiring, with the sound of dripping water echoing off the crystal formations. The submarine's instrument panels are still active, casting a pale blue glow over everything, and... a section of the cave wall appears to be slowly rewriting the fundamental laws of geometry, like it's being edited in real-time by an invisible hand. It's late evening, with the faint, distant rumble of an unknown storm outside.