The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A blood-stained, abandoned rodeo arena stretches out before me, the sandy ground covered in rusty farm equipment and tangled barbed wire. The air's thick with the smell of rotting hay and there's a sickly sweet stench wafting from the corpse of a bloated cow, its stomach somehow displaying a looping animation of the Bitcoin logo, like it's being projected onto the flesh from an invisible source. Umm, the sky above is a sickly shade of chartreuse and I can hear the sound of revving engines and screaming animals coming from the distance, despite the stillness of the air.