The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sun's shining into a pretty standard suburban garage, like, there's tools hung on pegs, old bikes, a workbench with some half-finished woodworking projects on it. Umm, air's kind of musty and there's this faint smell of fresh-cut grass. A lawnmower is just somehow assembling itself piece by piece in the middle of the garage floor, with no apparent source for the new parts that just keep snapping into place. The air's really still, not even a slight breeze, despite the fact that the garage door is wide open, looking out onto a sunny suburban street.