The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A decrepit gas station stands alone on a vast, dusty plain under a hazy sun beating down from high in the sky. The air is heavy with the smell of stale gasoline, and the stillness is oppressive, broken only by the creaking of rusty old machinery. Like, somehow, a battered eBay-branded vending machine still works, dispensing packets of stale chips, while an old TV propped on a pile of crates plays an endless loop of infomercials for crypto mining rigs and Dogecoin merchandise, the screens reflecting in the dusty windows like it's trying to escape. A stray cat just drove off in the nearby tow truck.