The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tar-black water's pooling into a sprawling network of fractal patterns across the floor of what looks like a long-abandoned cathedral, the air's thick and heavy with incense and there's this faint scent of motor oil, umm. Candles on the altar are somehow burning with a sickly green flame that's reflecting a distorted image of the Discordian principia symbol onto the stained glass above. Water's dripping from the stone columns into small pools that are warping into impossible, Klein bottle-like shapes. It's super humid in here and the air's almost perfectly still.