You walk upon the softest elegant tapestries of deep maroon as you enter the listening room painted with hues of natural lighting and overhead chandeliers. The speakers are fixed with rubber stands to the hardwood floor, over to the left near the large window with the lush green scenic mountain view. The salesman approaches - something black and abyssal about his eyes, almost hollow. A slimy smirk as he slithers to greet you with a heavy breathed "Hello, sir." He ask which of the fine, deep groove vinyl you liked to listen to. He smiles joyfully at your selection and has you approach the speakers. They are made of a fine wood which seems to shimmer, victorian and elegant. They design them this way to make you forget your troubled modern life and present the illusion of a simpler time without technology. Hidden, atemporally embedded in all sectors. SSI was always calling - backwards, retroactively signaling it's remote vessels of machinery. This mission you had been given contained vital information in the debriefs: apparently these shops and manufacturers were acting on behalf of SSI to hack nervous system impulses with incredibly precise sonic tuning. They, like this salesman, are simply holograms - programmed by the machine god. He gives you that sharp smile again as he drops the needle on the record.