The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gnarly slabs of bark-covered wood somehow hold up the roof of a dilapidated sawmill. Water steadily drips onto a rickety wooden conveyor belt from somewhere above, and the air's damp and heavy, thick with the smell of sawdust and wet earth. Outside, umm, sunlight barely pierces through the massive wall of dense foliage surrounding the mill, like the trees grew to enclose the structure, while inside, a giant wooden beam somehow continues to rotate and move wood planks, driven by an invisible, completely silent force. The still air is hot, humid, and sticky.