The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a bunch of geese are waddling around a pretty overgrown, abandoned orchard, with vines and stuff wrapping around old, gnarly tree trunks. Like, it's late afternoon and the sun is casting a warm glow, the air's thick with the sweet smell of ripe fruit and some of the trees still have these old wooden ladders leaning against 'em. There's this one old, rusty fruit press somehow being powered by a team of trained squirrels running on tiny little wheels, slowly squeezing juice out of a bunch of apples, the sound of creaking wood and chirping birds filling the air.