The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, an old, rickety wooden pier extends out over the calm surface of a vast, tranquil lake, surrounded by dense stands of tall cattails and patches of blooming water lilies. Like, a group of otters is calmly repairing the pier's worn planks using what looks like perfectly hand-whittled wooden dowels, while nearby, a large beaver somehow operates a vintage-style mechanical cash register, steadily ringing up what appears to be a constant stream of non-existent transactions. A faint scent of fresh mud and water lily blooms hangs in the still morning air.