The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Soft sunlight filters through the gaps in a wooden fence surrounding a small, rustic farmyard, the air thick with the smell of manure and hay. A group of geese are quietly herding a flock of sheep into perfectly uniform lines, somehow not making a single sound as they work, like they're in a synchronized swimming competition or something. The air's warm and still, with a gentle buzzing of flies, and the geese are somehow making the sheep all face exactly the same direction, without any of them getting out of line. The farmyard's watering trough is somehow always full.