The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: It's like, a huge abandoned shopping mall food court. The fluorescent lights overhead are still on, but a weird, perpetual twilight is filtering through the grimy skylights. A low hum is coming from these retro arcade games scattered all over the tables, their screens displaying an endless loop of the Windows XP bluescreen. Snowflakes are slowly falling onto the food court floor, somehow passing through the solid roof without making a sound or leaving any melt behind, and it smells like stale nacho cheese and yesterday's Chinese takeout.