The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A massive, industrial brick kiln dominates the center of a barren, dusty quarry, the air thick with the smell of burned clay. Umm, a bunch of raccoons are methodically unloading bricks from the kiln, their little paws barely protected from the intense heat as they stack the bricks neatly on wooden pallets. Like, the weird thing is that the kiln seems to be somehow 'unfiring' the bricks - the ones the raccoons take out are soft, damp clay again, as if they'd never been fired in the first place. The late afternoon sun beats down, casting long shadows across the quarry.