The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tendrils of mycelium are wrapping around these... uh, what looks like decommissioned satellite dishes, in the middle of a misty, abandoned stadium. The air's thick with the scent of wet earth and there's a gentle patter of rain on the canvas roof above. Water's collecting in the dishes, somehow reflecting images of ancient sigils from the Dogon tribe, and I can hear this low hum, like the frequency of the satellite signals still echoing through the equipment. The fungi are, like, somehow reassembling the dish components into bioluminescent growths that seem to be broadcasting their own signal.