The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dappled sunlight filters through the dusty windows of an old, cluttered garage, casting shadows on piles of broken machinery and discarded tools. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of gasoline and motor oil. A workbench in the center of the room seems to be slowly repairing a disassembled engine by itself, the parts reassembling into a functioning machine as I watch. Outside, the sound of a gentle spring shower patters against the metal roof, somehow causing the tools on the workbench to rust and deteriorate at an incredible rate.