The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Bunch of dusty cat toys scattered around a cramped, cluttered attic, like... The air's got this stale smell, and it's warm with a few sunbeams peeking through the grimy skylights. A few birds are chirping outside, and the sound of scratching comes from the corner where a bunch of cats are somehow sorting old photographs into neat piles without making a mess. The late morning sun casts an uneven glow on everything, illuminating an old, still-operating metronome that seems to be keeping perfect time despite having no visible power source.