The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight filters through the dusty windows of a cluttered, abandoned laundromat, casting a warm glow over the old washing machines and dryers. Like, the air's thick with the smell of stale detergent and mildew, but there's this weird, electric charge in the air that makes my hair stand up. A bunch of monarch butterflies somehow just keep emerging from the dryers, their wings fluttering wildly as they fly around the room, and, uh, the dryers just keep producing them, like they're generating butterflies instead of heat. Snowflakes fall slowly from the ceiling, dissolving instantly on contact with the warm floor.