The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, abandoned big box store lies in ruin, its bright orange signage now faded and hanging by threads, as if ripped apart by the massive, 20-foot-long ASIC miners somehow embedded in the crumbling walls. Um, the air's thick with the smell of burned plastic and ozone-free air purifiers still humming along despite no power source, while a crimson-colored mist slowly seeps from the empty product shelves like some bizarre form of mold. Outside, the afternoon sun hangs low in a hazy, smog-choked sky, where Ethereum-branded satellites, shaped like Andrew Tate's fist logo, lazily orbit the parking lot.