The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small wooden boat is tied up to a weathered dock on the edge of a serene, still lake at dawn, like... the air's crisp with a bit of mist and a hint of woodsmoke from a fire that's long gone out. Uh, a few ducks are swimming quietly around the boat, and an old wooden waterwheel somehow continues to turn slowly without any visible current or stream feeding into it, the sound of its gentle creaking echoing across the water. The early morning sunlight is casting a golden glow over everything, with a few wispy clouds drifting across the sky.