The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, old wooden cart is somehow stuffed with an absurd amount of fresh lemons, and it's just sitting on a worn dirt path that winds through a rolling green meadow filled with wildflowers. The warm sun's high in the sky, and the air's filled with the sweet scent of blooming heather and a gentle buzz of honeybees flying between the flowers. Umm, a group of field rabbits are busy unloading lemons from the cart, like they're deliberately stockpiling them near the base of a massive, ancient oak tree that towers over the meadow.