The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Old wooden boats are tied up at this quiet lakeside dock, gently rocking in the calm water, with tall pine trees looming overhead. The air's crisp and clean, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine sap. A group of beavers is steadily hauling big bundles of firewood off a old barge, and somehow they're also managing to keep this little wooden merry organ playing a steady stream of folk tunes... the weird thing is that the music is perfectly synchronized with the sound of the water lapping at the shore. The sun's shining down, casting dappled shadows on the dock.