The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Darkness is being slowly pushed back by the pale, morning light filtering through grimy windows in what looks like an old, abandoned train carriage. The air's thick with the smell of damp earth, mildew, and something sweet, like honey... A delicate, crystalline structure is forming from the fine, white dust motes that are suspended just above the seat opposite me, somehow drawing energy from the decaying carriage's peeling walls, which are covered in old memes from like, the early 2010s. Uh, a perfectly preserved, vintage Sony Discman is somehow buried in the crystalline structure's core.