The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water pours out of a large, granite fountain at the center of a quaint, village square, but instead of flowing downward, it just kind of... stays suspended in mid-air, like it's stuck there or something. Uh, the air's crisp, with a hint of baked bread and roasting meat, and it's perfectly still except for the gentle clucking of birds from a nearby coop. The sunlight's filtering in at a high angle – must be around noon, judging by the position of the sun in the sky. A rusty old bicycle leans against the side of a nearby well, its chain tangled in a mess of weeds.