The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, the air's thick with the smell of old leather and engine grease in this cramped, cluttered airplane hangar. Like, a vintage biplane's somehow got its wings folded in on itself, neatly tucked away inside a huge, rusty toolbox that's sitting on a workbench. The toolbox's drawers keep opening and closing by themselves, with tools clattering around inside, and the sound of a distant airshow's filtering in through the hangar's open doors – it's sunny outside with a few puffy white clouds, but the sky's also somehow displaying a perfect, mirror-image replica of the hangar's interior.