DX01: SINGULARITY 22951

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A grimy, old slaughterhouse, with meat hooks and conveyor belts still creaking away, like the place just shut down yesterday. Blood-soaked wooden cutting boards line the steel countertops, while air hoses swing from the ceiling, the air thick with a rank, metallic smell and a humidity level that's making my skin sweat. Uh, above us, sunlight filters through grimy skylights, casting a weird, pinkish glow on everything, and somehow, in the center of it all, a perfectly cooked, juicy turkey is slowly spinning on a turntable, without any oven or heat source in sight.