The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Like, sunlight filters through grimy storm drains into a cramped, outdated server room. The air's stale and musty with the smell of old circuit boards, and the humidity feels super low, making my skin itch. Uh, Pepe the Frog ASCII art scrolls beside system updates on an old server bank, the screen somehow displaying it despite having half the screen's pixels blown out. Water somehow drips upwards from the drain grates, filling a dusty fire suppression canister to the brim, in mid-air, defying gravity.