The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crypt-like subterranean cavern, illuminated by scattered, broken smartphones that somehow still project pale blue screensavers onto the damp stone walls. Air's heavy with the stench of decaying soil, ozone, and something like... gasoline, as wispy tendrils of vines - identical to those seen on the abandoned spacecraft - burst from a heavily corroded, Soviet-era mainframe, their crystalline tips reflecting and distorting a distorted projection of 4chan boards. Distant hum of a far-off cryptocurrency miner mingles with an unsettlingly-loud notification ping from the ancient server. The vines seem to be absorbing discarded fiber-optic cables.