The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's filtering in through some grimy windows, casting a warm glow over a bunch of worn-out tools and machinery scattered around this old garage. It smells like, uh, motor oil and stale air, and it's pretty still in here except for some dust motes dancing in the sunbeams. A vintage lawnmower somehow keeps repairing itself - like, rusty parts just fall off and shiny new ones somehow materialize to replace them. Outside, I can see it's a clear afternoon with a few birds chirping in the nearby trees.