The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunbeams filter through the grimy windows of an old, abandoned windmill-turned-watermill, illuminating the dusty air that's thick with the smell of mildew and damp earth. Like, the sound of gently gurgling water fills the space, but somehow, the wooden waterwheel is turning in the opposite direction, pushing water up the wooden chute, defying the gentle slope. A small patch of ferns and moss has taken over the central gear system, which is slowly disassembling itself. The air is pretty humid, and it's almost still, except for a faint vibration from the wheel.