The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive, ornate mirrors cover every visible surface of this Baroque-style parlour room, making it hard to tell where the walls are, umm... and the air's heavy with the smell of beeswax polish. Sunlight pours in from somewhere above, casting a bright, diffused glow over the whole scene, illuminating tiny, iridescent beetles as they move across the mirror surfaces, somehow passing through the glass as if it's just a liquid. Like, the air in here feels electric, charged with something. Outside, according to the reflected light, it's mid-morning, maybe late spring.