The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tall cypress trees tower above a still, serene lake, surrounded by rolling hills and patches of water lilies. The air's heavy with the scent of damp earth and moss, and the sky's a pale, milky white, must be early morning. Umm, a weathered, wooden dock stretches out over the lake, with a rusty old bucket just sitting at its edge, steadily scooping up water and pouring it back into the lake like it's being operated by an invisible hand. A faint breeze stirs the cypress trees, causing the water's surface to ripple ever so slightly.