The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A vintage pinball machine is somehow lodged in a hollowed-out giant sequoia tree trunk, surrounded by a vast, misty redwood forest. Umm, the air's crisp and cool, with a scent of damp earth and leaves, and it's totally silent except for the distant rumble of thunder. The pinball machine's flippers are moving on their own, launching metal balls up into the tree's knotted branches, which then roll back down to the machine in a continuous, rhythmic loop. The sun's rays filter through the mist, casting a warm, golden glow over everything, but it's somehow nighttime at the same time.