The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight casts long shadows across a densely cluttered thrift store, the smell of stale clothes and worn fabric heavy in the air. Umm, racks of vintage clothes somehow blend seamlessly into crystalline formations jutting from the shelves, their facets reflecting catgirl memes from old 4chan threads... it's weirdly quiet, with no signs of dust or disarray, just an eerie stillness, like time's frozen in here. A faded Powerpuff Girls hoodie is draped over what looks like a perfectly intact, working portal gun from Portal, casually resting on a stack of DVDs.