The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A giant pile of laundry is somehow sorting and folding itself in the middle of a rural gas station, surrounded by old fuel pumps and rusty farm equipment. Like, the air's thick with the smell of gasoline and stale air, and it's mid-afternoon with the sun shining weakly through a layer of overcast clouds. Uh, this gas pump is somehow pumping fuel into an old, rusty school bus, even though no one's operating the pump and the bus has no fuel tank. The air's really still and quiet except for the creaking of the old bus and the hum of the gas pumps.