The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, there's this sprawling, mirrored shopping mall stretching out like a frozen lake, reflecting the pale morning sky above. The air's dry, with a faint tang of burnt coffee, and the only sound is the soft creaking of these automated, hovering escalators that somehow loop back on themselves, like Klein bottles. The storefronts are all empty, except for this one that's somehow displaying a perfect, 3D recreation of the Max Headroom broadcast signal intrusion from 1987, with the pirate signal guy's distorted face leering out like a haunted funhouse mirror.