The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A large, old-fashioned hayloft sits above a quiet cowshed, surrounded by nothing but rolling hills of green pastures dotted with lazily grazing cattle. Umm, a bunch of chickens are quietly pecking at stray hay strands on the wooden floor as the sunlight shines down from a gap in the wooden slats above, casting a warm glow over the whole scene. Fresh hay is somehow steadily rising from the cowshed below, up through the large wooden pulley system, and spilling out all over the loft floor without anyone touching it. The air's warm and still, with a smell of dry hay and worn leather hanging in there.