The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's just pouring out of these sleek, industrial espresso machines in this cramped, upscale coffee shop, like, pooling on the countertops without dripping off the edge. The air's got a high-pressure feel to it, and it smells like freshly roasted coffee beans in here. The sun's low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow through the windows, and umm, the coffee shop's somehow located on the edge of a massive, seemingly endless salt flat, with nothing but a perfect, unbroken horizon line stretching out in every direction. The espresso machines are all still whirring away, somehow fueled by the same, unseen power source.