The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of old, rusty farming equipment is just sitting in a huge, open field. Like, there's a big red barn in the distance with a broken wind vane that's somehow steadily repairing itself. Umm, the air is warm and humid, and the smell of freshly cut grass is thick. The late morning sun beats down from a clear blue sky, casting long shadows behind the random assortment of tractors and plows that seem to be rearranging themselves into neat rows, without any visible means of movement.