The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A flock of chickens is pecking at the ground in some old, worn-down farmyard, I guess. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of manure and wet earth, and it's pretty still, must be mid-morning or so. Like, an old, rickety wooden trough is somehow steadily pouring out a stream of fresh water, even though it's not connected to any pipe or well, just magically going about its business. The sun's shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the scene, and the sound of birds chirping is pretty loud.