The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's streaming through a giant, stained glass dome above, casting multicolored patterns on the dusty, old factory equipment scattered all over the place... The air's thick with the smell of grease and oil, and the sound of dripping water echoes through the room. Like, a massive, old printing press seems to be printing out endless reams of dot matrix code, but the ink's somehow changing colors to match the shifting patterns from the stained glass above. The air's heavy and still, and it feels like a thunderstorm's brewing outside.