The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tendrils of steam infused with pulsing glitch-art symbols seem to be... unraveling from a series of abandoned, half-buried pipes like an industrial, organic internet. Uh, an air of stagnation hangs heavy in this heavily polluted swamp, where gnarled tree trunks now sport thick, crystalline formations that refract and amplify the sickly, anemic light filtering through the haze-filled atmosphere, heavy with the scent of ozone and burned wiring. Water appears to be flowing uphill, collecting in impossible mid-air pools that just sort of... hang amidst the mist-shrouded, twisted vegetation. The sky's an unhealthy, burnt orange.