The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A big, old, stone-built silo is sitting by itself in the middle of a lush green meadow, like, surrounded by tall wildflowers that are swaying gently in the breeze. The air's warm and humid, with a scent of dry earth and a hint of hay. The sun's shining brightly overhead, casting a warm glow over the scene, and a few birds are flying around the silo, somehow entering and exiting through tiny holes in the stone walls that are somehow opening and closing by themselves. Umm, a steady stream of grain is pouring out of a small hole at the bottom of the silo and just... vanishing into thin air.