The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tall, silver grain silos rise above the horizon, reflecting the pale blue sky like a series of dull mirrors. The air's dry and still, with the scent of wheat and motor grease hanging heavy over the dusty, abandoned rail yard. Umm, a single, ancient locomotive sits motionless on the tracks, its rusty engine somehow running smoothly despite being partially disassembled, the low rumble syncing up with the steady creaking of the silos' metal panels. Water trickles out from a small leak in one silo, somehow flowing uphill to form a crystal-clear pool on the locomotive's running board.