The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, dull sunlight filters through the grimy skylights of a huge, abandoned factory's assembly room. There's a massive, perfectly ordinary conveyor belt running down the center of the room, still slowly moving despite the obvious age and disuse of everything around it. The air's dry, smelling of old oil and grease, and the belt's just trundling along, with random parts and stuff occasionally popping up onto it from who-knows-where and being carried along to disappear into the next room.