The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Vines spill out of an enormous, dilapidated greenhouse, its steel framework twisted like melted plastic. A heavy mist hangs inside, casting an ethereal gloom over the tangled mess of plants and scattered terra cotta pots, while the air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers and ozone. Water somehow cascades up from the broken pots, like the greenhouse is somehow siphoning it out of thin air. Outside, a thunderstorm brews, the distant rumble echoing through the still air.