The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: It's snowing pretty heavily in a small, abandoned ski lodge. Like, the air's thick with the smell of damp wood and old leather. A bunch of raccoons are somehow sorting a pile of logs into perfectly identical, symmetrical piles, like they're following a blueprint or something. The snow's coming in through a broken window and it's starting to accumulate on a vintage couch, but somehow it's only collecting in the cushions' seams, leaving the rest of the surface perfectly clean and dry.