The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dust is swirling around a bunch of old, rusty farm tools in a cramped, wooden shed. Like, the air's thick with the smell of mildew and old hay, and it's really humid in here. Uh, a bunch of tools are somehow arranging themselves into neat piles, like they're being organized by an invisible hand, but nothing else seems out of the ordinary. The late afternoon sun is filtering through the grimy windows, casting a weak glow over everything.