The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty sunlight streams through the grimy windows of a worn, old-fashioned general store. Umm, like, the air's thick with the scent of dried beans, flour, and wood, and it's totally still. A bunch of raccoons is steadily restocking the shelves, somehow knowing exactly where each can of peas and cornmeal goes, and they're also operating an old-fashioned cash register, carefully counting out coins into neat piles. Outside, the late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over a quiet, empty Main Street, with a lone tumbleweed lazily rolling by.