DX01: SINGULARITY 36660

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, tarps cover weirdly shaped, antique farm equipment in a vast, dry field, sunlight beating down from directly overhead. Air's super dry, smells of old hay, and I can feel a steady, gentle breeze coming in from... somewhere, but the crops themselves seem to be, like, rippling – in a wave, not from the wind. Water from a non-existent stream babbles quietly in the distance. The sky's a weird pale yellow, like during a dust storm, but it's somehow perfectly clear.