The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shafts of dim light cut through a dusty, abandoned temple, illuminating intricate stone carvings of the Kabbalistic tree of life. Uh, the air's thick with the smell of sandalwood and ozone as a low hum, like the reverberation of a thousand chanting voices, echoes through the stillness. A series of massive, ornate tapestries displaying maps from Counterstrike, cs_militia and cs_office, hang suspended, seemingly woven from the very fabric of reality itself. The woven threads shimmer, displaying the real-time Bitcoin price in an ancient dialect.