The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's trickling from a faucet into a cracked, porcelain sink inside a cluttered, alchemical laboratory, while uh, fragments of alembics, crucibles, and beakers litter the countertops and floor. The air's heavy with a smell of burnt sulfur and some kind of metallic catalyst. Shelves of leather-bound, esoteric texts like the 'Liber Juratis' seem to be reflecting the faint light of the setting sun through grimy windows... and a perfect, 3D representation of the 'Metatron's Cube' geometric figure somehow exists as a solid, transparent structure above a wooden, laboratory table, surrounded by half-burnt candles.