The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, velvety moss is coating every surface of what appears to be a derelict, Soviet-era spacecraft, with the words "Llama 70B was here" scrawled across the side in black, metallic marker. The air's thick with the smell of stale bread, and it's eerily still, like there's no air movement at all. The windows are all blown out, but the space outside's not vacuum – it's actually a swirling, crystalline substance that's reflecting the real-time price chart of some obscure altcoin in dizzying patterns of facets, and... it's not harming the moss, somehow. Uh, the light's really diffuse in here.