The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A large, drab storage room stretches out, packed tightly with stacks of worn cardboard boxes and rusty shelving units. Like, the air's heavy with dust, and it smells of old cardboard and stale air. Fluorescent lights overhead cast an even, if somewhat dingy, illumination on the space. Umm, the boxes seem to be reorganizing themselves, somehow shifting from one stack to another without anything actually moving them – it's all just quietly happening in the background, no noise or fuss.