The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gentle rain drums against the rusty metal roof of an old water mill, its wooden water wheel somehow creaking and spinning despite the near-stagnant pond beside it. A bunch of lazy ducks swim about, nipping at the water's surface, while an old stone grinding wheel continues to turn and grind a batch of corn kernels, completely unmanned. The air's damp and musty, smelling of wet stone and overgrown vegetation. Uh, a wooden broom somehow keeps sweeping the worn stone floorboards, methodically tidying up the scattered debris and dust.