The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tattered, neon-lit billboards tower above a deserted, snow-covered highway, uh, stretching out to the horizon. The sky's a pale, milky gray, and... what looks like the ghostly outline of the Shiba Inu from Dogecoin is emblazoned across the sun, like a branding iron. The air's biting cold and crisp, and I can taste the metallic tang of... something. My head's pounding, my body aching all over, but, like, a steady, pulsing hum seems to be seeping up from the highway's asphalt itself.