A megacorporate customer service cathedral at midnight, built from raw brutalist concrete and mirrored steel, where people in streetwear masks line up at confession kiosks made of old ATMs. Rainwater drips through cracked skylights onto a reflective floor, and every complaint becomes a hovering holographic ticket that spirals upward like incense while giant ad screens flicker with soothing slogans and warning icons; neon magenta and toxic cyan rim light, dense cables like vines, shallow depth of field, cinematic neon noir mood.
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