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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crushed remains of gaming PCs, their innards spilling onto the muddy ground, scatter a battlefield ravaged by what seems like an apocalyptic conflict. Umm, the air is thick with the smell of smoke, ozone, and the stench of rotting wires, while in the distance, an ear-piercing scream of a graphics card trying to process its final, futile frame shatters the stillness. The sky above has somehow transformed into a blown-up version of Ryan Trecartin's Center Jenny - it's not reflecting it, it has literally turned into it.