The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, old horse-drawn carriages are just sitting here, covered in dust and cobwebs, in this huge, empty saloon with wooden swing doors that keep creaking in the gentle breeze. The air's kinda stale with a hint of old whiskey, and the sunlight's streaming in through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything. The weird thing is, a bunch of playing cards are literally arranging themselves into neat hands on the poker tables, like some invisible players are in the middle of a game. Outside, the sky's a pale blue, with a few wispy clouds drifting lazily by.