The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of old, rusty farm equipment is scattered around a sunny, open field, with a few cows grazing in the distance. The air's warm and dry, smells like fresh earth and cut grass, and it's a pretty still afternoon, just a few wispy clouds drifting lazily by. Uh, an old, metal plow in the middle of the field is somehow steadily plowing the soil, moving on its own, creating perfect, straight furrows without any visible mechanism or animal to pull it. A few birds are flitting around the equipment, chirping away, as the sun beats down from high up in the sky.