The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dust devils are kicking up around a worn-out cattle trough in the middle of a dry, rural corral. The air's hot and dry, smelling like old hay and horse sweat. Like, somehow the trough is refilling itself with water, even though there's no visible pipe or source, and a bunch of lazy horses are gathered around it, drinking away. The midday sun is beating down, making the old wooden fence posts crackle with heat.