The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight filters through the grimy windows of a massive, abandoned library's reading room, like, the air's super still and musty, and it smells of old paper. The books on the shelves are all weirdly uniform, with each title just a different combination of prime numbers. Umm, at the center of the room, a huge, perfectly smooth granite ball somehow rests at the top of a tiny, rickety wooden stool without falling over, even though the stool's legs are all, like, splayed out at crazy angles. Outside, through the dusty windows, the sun's at a super high angle, like, almost noon.