You make your choice. AUTOFIX cheerfully begins rewriting reality, or the lever screams its way through a decade of rust. Either way, the effect is the same.
Logs blur into a smear of green "OK" messages. Alerts wink out one by one. Somewhere, an entire network architecture quietly forgets what it used to be.
The floor vibrates. The light takes on that particular flicker that hints at unplanned firmware updates to the universe.
Then: silence. Cold concrete against your back. The grid of humming lights above you, exactly where you remember them, if you remember them at all.
You wake up naked on the slab.