The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, rusty water pump somehow keeps pumping water into a worn, leather bucket, even though it's not attached to any power source or handle. The late morning sun casts a warm glow over a dry, cracked-earth farmyard surrounded by a few scrawny trees and some weathered wooden fences. Uh, the air's dry and still, smelling of dusty earth and dried hay. A bunch of chickens just mill around, pecking at the dry ground, while a small, old-fashioned farm cart somehow keeps getting loaded with bundles of dry hay, like it's being prepared for a trip, but there's nothing to pull it.