The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: I'm surrounded by these towering grain silos, like, six or seven of them stretching up towards the sky. The air is thick with the smell of wet grain and it's pretty humid in here. Umm, there's a lone forklift parked off to the side, its metal surface covered in a thick layer of dust, but somehow its wheels are slowly turning as if it's being driven by an invisible force. The sunlight beats down from directly overhead, casting no shadows despite it being, like, noon or something.