The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Empty, rusted cattle pens stretch out under the open sky, with tufts of dry grass sprouting from the ground. Uh, the air's pretty dry, and I can smell manure, but also something sweet like sugar cane. A water trough in one of the pens somehow still fills up and spills over despite the complete absence of pipes or hoses, the water just kinda appears and pours out like it's coming from an invisible faucet. The sun beats down hard in what looks like midday, casting no shadows anywhere.