The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A worn, wooden sailboat sits on the dusty floor of a massive, abandoned grain silo, its sails limp in the still air. Umm, a family of opossums is busy repairing the boat's hull using what looks like mud and...somehow, flat, round pieces of a giant's breakfast cereal. The air's musty and filled with the smell of old grain, and it's probably late afternoon judging by the slanted sunbeams filtering through the silo's grimy windows. A gentle hum fills the air, like the silo itself is softly buzzing with electricity.