The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A totally beat-up bike somehow lies mangled in a massive, industrial-sized washing machine, like, it's getting tossed around with a bunch of dirty laundry in the middle of a bright, sunlit laundromat. The air's super warm and humid, smelling of fresh detergent, and I hear the sound of thunder outside despite the sky being clear blue through the big windows. Umm, a sign above the washers reads "Free Wi-Fi" and the words are steadily, slowly shifting around on the sign for no apparent reason.