The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a small, old-fashioned waterwheel is steadily turning in a narrow, babbling brook, surrounded by tall trees with leaves that are just starting to change colors. The air's pretty crisp and cool, with a scent of damp earth and a hint of wood smoke. A bunch of fish are swimming upstream, somehow jumping right out of the water and into a nearby bucket without anyone touching them, and the bucket just keeps filling up but never overflows. The sun's shining pretty low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor.