The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty old bottles and cans are scattered all over a cramped, rustic barn floor, and a bunch of lazy goats are just lying around, chewing on some hay. The air's thick with the smell of damp fur and old wood, and it's pretty humid in here. Like, somehow a big old wooden wagon is repairing itself, the broken planks just sort of... reassembling, and the rusty metal bands are polishing themselves to a shine. A few sunbeams are filtering through the grimy windows, casting a warm glow over everything, and the sound of birds chirping fills the air.