The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of cows are wearing aprons, somehow expertly operating a bunch of old-fashioned looms in a huge, rustic barn, steadily weaving a massive, intricately patterned tapestry. The air's thick with the smell of fresh hay and wool, and the sun's shining through the open doors, casting a warm glow over the whole scene, so it's probably late afternoon. Uh, a flock of chickens are quietly pecking at some grains on the floor, completely ignoring the commotion, while the sound of gently creaking wooden beams fills the air. A small, rusty plow is somehow steadily plowing a field just outside, with no visible means of propulsion.