The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a bunch of old hay bales are stacked up in a rustic corral, and a few lazy cows are just lying around, chewing on some dry grass. The air's thick with the smell of manure and old wood, and it's pretty hot out here in the midday sun. Like, somehow a small patch of the ground is just... continuously tilling itself, with clumps of dirt and rocks getting pulled up and then smoothed out again, like the earth is just sort of... gardening itself or something. The sound of creaking wooden fence posts and birds chirping fills the air.