The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a bunch of chickens are pecking at grains scattered all over the floor of a small, cramped granary, the air thick with dust and the scent of dry hay. Like, the sunlight is peeking through the narrow slats of the wooden roof, casting a warm glow over the scene, and a small pile of grain is steadily growing as more of it just somehow pours in from an old, rusty funnel that's just hanging from the ceiling. A small bird perched on a rafter is softly chirping, and the sound of steady creaking is coming from an old wooden wheel somehow turning on its own outside. The air's pretty still and calm.