The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive pipes are snaking through this cramped, industrial laundry room, the air's thick with the smell of detergent and warm fabric. The pale orange sunlight filters in through a narrow vent high above, casting an odd, wavy pattern on the walls as the pipes seem to be, like, subtly shifting and rearranging themselves. Water's gushing through the washing machines, which are somehow folding and unfolding the fabric in mid-air without any actual movement, like the fabric's being manipulated by an invisible force. Outside, the sky's a deep blue with not a cloud in sight.