The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, retro-futuristic television studio somehow exists at the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by schools of bioluminescent fish swimming in sync with the flicker of old studio lights. Like, the air's... or water, I guess... is thick with the smell of salt and burnt electronics, and an electric charge makes the fish dart around me erratically - it's late afternoon, I think, with the sunlight filtering down from the surface. The studio's televisions display static-filled feeds of some cryptic, alien QAnon message board, with scrolling ASCII art of a Ouroboros serpent devouring its own tail.