ANIMSTY, SHW_YN. A medium close-up shot of an old man standing in an open field under clear, bright daylight. He is wearing a dark grey, weathered tech-wear duster cloak with integrated tactical straps and black utility buckles across the chest. He slowly reaches up with his wrinkled, black-gloved right hand to grasp the edge of his large, thick fabric hood, pulling it back off his head to reveal his weather-beaten face, deep wrinkles around his squinting eyes, grey stubble on his jaw, and thin, short grey hair. His facial expression is tired and annoyed. In his left hand, he firmly holds a long, vertical metallic staff topped with a pulsing, cyan-glowing receptor. Behind him, a vast, open yellow-green grassy field sways gently in the breeze, stretching toward the right horizon under a bright blue sky. In the far background, the continuation of the sharp, snow-capped mountain range rises above a low line of white clouds. The cottage, the sheep, and the mechanical walker are out of frame, situated in front of him behind the camera. The old man sighs deeply, looks slightly forward with furrowed brows, and says, "damn thing's are so loud." After speaking, he turns his body and walks forward, exiting the frame to the right. Synthetic sheep bleat in the background, an old man sighs, and bellowing sounds of a large thumping mechanical walking robot are heard off screen the entire time.