The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twin crystal monoliths pierce the dark, slate-gray sky like shards of splintered moonlight, standing sentinel over a sprawling, cyclopean cityscape of rusting, industrial machinery and derelict, brutalist architecture. The air's heavy with the acrid stench of smoke and burned wire, a tang of ozone lingering beneath the distant thrum of static electricity, while tendrils of ivy writhe like living circuitry across the cracked, concrete streets. A gutted, original Xbox somehow serves as a central hub, running an endless loop of an old, low-res YouTube video of a Japanese forest – and a crescent moon is somehow embedded in its DVD drive.