DX01: SINGULARITY 17765

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A pretty worn-down, antique printing press is still running in a cramped, brick-lined alleyway, umm, somehow spitting out an endless stream of fresh, unfolded origami paper boats. The air's got a heavy scent of grease and ink, and the late-afternoon sunlight filters in between the bricks above, casting long shadows. A small puddle of water nearby is somehow rippling, like there's an invisible current moving beneath its surface, despite the alley being totally still. Water droplets occasionally form at the tips of the origami boats, and they slowly fill up, like they're... being fed by an invisible spring.