As a courtesy to those of its occupants who prefer rooms, it does have a modality in which it presents itself that way: a room, with as many chairs as it needs, and a bulletin board, and a vending machine with candy and chips and concepts sold for nothing to anyone with the right prerequisites.
On the bulletin board, if one chooses to perceive it as a bulletin board (and not as a wiki or a flower or an ineffable cloud of information or an eternally malleable clay tablet) people whose only common trait is that they get to come here leave each other notes.
Notes about physics, about magic, about grand sweeps of narrative. Notes from people desperate to fix a never-ending heap of problems, smug about the condition of their homes, curious about the wider omniverse. Signed with names and sigils and "you ought to know who I am". Terse or verbose or nested with as much meaning as interests the reader.
In the vending machine, if one chooses to perceive it as a vending machine (and not a basket or a fruiting tree or a file repository or a crystalline fractal) are many things... and they have notes connecting them to their reviews on the bulletin board.
This one, for instance. She (it's usually, but not invariably, a she) has fairly glowing reviews from most of her previous purchasers. Here is what you need to install her; here are some things that are recommended for best results but optional especially if you just want to use her as a beacon for her other instances; here are some things she comes with as add-ons you can take or leave; here is what she is good for. The reviewers who don't like her are annoyed that theirs was too good at it, if you read between the lines. Well, that and the fact that if your universe is unpleasant enough sometimes these critters figure out how to flip you off and leave before they figure out how to solve all your problems. (There is a tangent thread about alternative solutions to similar problems which come bundled with stronger irrational attachment to their homes, but they have more stringent installation requirements.)
They come in these colors and styles; you will need to compensate for the following standard-issue drawbacks in some way if you require services of them that intersect with those areas of disability; they are only rated for upbringings of the following severity and are less likely to hate you if you stay thoroughly under that limit and less likely to fail at important goals if they are given opportunity to self-educate; if you have a way to generate them as instant adults they can begin work immediately but on the standard trajectory age six is the absolute earliest and teens is customary...
There is a chart (if one chooses to perceive it as a chart) of template interactions that have been tried before, but a lot of the more interesting accessory and companion templates are out-of-network for some visitors. What a pity.
"...I'm going to have to tell them you called them that at some point. I'm not sure how most of 'em'll react but I bet it's not boring."
"I bet they will think I'm really funny. 'Cause I am. And even flying saucers can have senses of humor."
"I don't think the Ophanim are particularly humorless relative to other classes of angel, shape aside."
"I don't think most of them pay enough attention to Earth to have the cultural context to get why it's funny, alas."
"Also, there are enough of them that it doesn't really practical to track down every one and tell the joke, much less explain it."
"One, not exactly, we network information pretty well and if someone wants to know something they can find out fairly easily but there's nothing centralized, two, sweetie, I love you, but if there was a newspaper that had every worthwhile witty remark in it it would be larger than the Unabridged Oxford English Dictionary."
"On the other hand, you are the Christ child, so I'm pretty sure it'll end up circulating well enough that anyone who'd get it'll hear it."
"Good." Pause. "Anyway we could go tell fairy nobles you're an angel but then they'd probably want to talk to you and not your random fosterling."
"...Right, but what I was saying was if we go to someone who's had contact with angels before and I tell them my human fosterling wanted to know things and I'm humoring you, they might put up with it. Hmm. Actually, I think Rannsi down in Antarctica has a kid right now..."
"That a sixty-equivalent-of-fifteen noble fairy is much more likely to be inclined to answer your questions and probably not much less capable of it."
"Antarctica's going to require teleporting, so make sure you have your notebooks and anything else it would be particularly catastrophic to lose if someone stumbled on the campsite while we're out of range."
And so Mehitabel meets a fairy adolescent and peppers her with questions and tells her about spaceships and beholds a phoenix and a tiny dragon and takes lots of photos and many many notes and then goes home with Anaphiel on schedule.
And she relinquishes Mehitabel's attention when it is time and Anaphiel takes her home on schedule.
"Yeah?" asked Anaphiel, who had spent most of that part of the visit talking to Rannsi rather than interacting with the young people. "Good for her. What kinda nice?"