The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's streaming into a cramped, dusty attic in a dilapidated antique shop. The air's thick with the scent of decay and stale air, and there's an almost suffocating stillness. Umm, old furniture and boxes are stacked haphazardly around a large, antique orrery, which seems to be spinning on its own, like it's powered by an invisible force, accurately replicating the positions of stars and planets... somehow. Water's slowly leaking from a broken vase on a nearby trunk, collecting into a tiny, glassy pool that's reflecting a miniature replica of the orrery's mechanical workings.