The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's filtering through the dusty windows of a cramped, cluttered general store, casting a warm glow over the shelves stacked with old cans of food, farming tools, and other supplies. Like, the air's thick with the smell of old wood and stale bread, and it's pretty quiet except for the sound of a bunch of rabbits methodically restocking the shelves, somehow pulling cans and jars out of thin air to arrange them neatly. A small, antique cash register is ringing up sales on its own, clanging out totals and spitting out exact change. The sun's at a late afternoon angle.