The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunbeams filter through the stained glass panels of a long-abandoned greenhouse, casting colorful patterns on the dusty, cracked floor tiles. Umm, potted plants are somehow still thriving amidst the broken glass and rusted gardening tools, their vines and tendrils snaking up the rusted latticework like they're trying to escape. The air's warm and stale, smelling of decaying plant matter and old earth, with the faint scent of blooming flowers in the distance, even though it's clearly been years since anyone's been here to tend to anything. Outside, a steady rain falls... upward.