The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sunny clearing in a pine forest, the warm scent of fresh sap and pine needles hangs over everything. Umm, like, a small family of raccoons is busy gathering fallen pine cones, seemingly unbothered by the old, rusted, Model T Ford that's somehow slowly, steadily climbing a massive, ancient tree, its tires digging into the bark as if it were soft dirt. The air's still, with a gentle, soothing hum coming from a nearby beehive that's somehow embedded in the hollowed trunk of another tree. The late morning sun filters through the canopy above.