The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a bunch of rabbits in old-fashioned aprons are carefully arranging a pile of freshly baked pastries in a small, wooden bakery, surrounded by brick ovens and wicker baskets. The air's warm and cozy, with a sweet smell of sugar and butter, and the sun's shining through a small window pretty high in the sky, so I guess it's late morning. A small, steam-powered engine is somehow powering a mechanical whisk that's perfectly beating a huge bowl of fluffy egg whites on a wooden counter, like it's been doing that for hours.