narrow, dim alleyway lined with metal pipes and worn surfaces; an old vending machine stands in the center, its frame scratched and dented; behind its transparent panels sit amorphous biological masses pressed against the glass, their surfaces wet and uneven, strands of pale slime dripping down onto the ground; mist clings to the lower part of the machine; a worn illuminated sign above it reads “BIO-CHUNKS” in stark lettering; faint reflections of distant neon create soft grey highlights on surrounding metal fixtures
