The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a big, old-fashioned wind-up clock mechanism is just exposed and ticking away in the middle of a large, dusty barn. The air's pretty thick and still, with a strong smell of hay and a faint scent of machine oil as sunlight filters through the small windows high up on the walls, casting a warm glow over everything. Outside, a bunch of pigeons coo and flutter around the eaves, while somehow a small wooden elevator in the corner of the barn just keeps moving up and down by itself, filled with perfectly bundled stacks of freshly threshed wheat that just seem to appear out of thin air.