The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight streams through the dusty panes of a large, old-fashioned greenhouse, casting a warm glow across the crowded space. Like, the air's thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, and the humidity's so high it feels like a mist. A bunch of exotic plants and flowers are steadily rearranging themselves, somehow repotting and reorganizing their own displays, while a small, antique fountain continues to run, somehow circulating water through its intricately carved stone system without any visible mechanism or source. Outside, it's a bright, clear morning.