The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A flock of seagulls is hovering near a weathered wooden lighthouse, perched atop a rugged rocky outcrop overlooking a stormy coastline. Umm, the air's pretty thick with the smell of saltwater and seaweed, and the strong ocean wind is whipping the gulls' feathers back and forth as they somehow maintain a perfect, motionless formation despite the turbulence. The lighthouse's lantern room is emitting a steady beam of light that's... somehow bending at a right angle to illuminate a small cluster of rocks on the ocean floor below. The waves crash loudly against the shore.