DX01: SINGULARITY 36690

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Late morning sunlight pours in through grimy windows set high up on a rough stone wall of what feels like an abandoned barn. Umm, the air's stale, and I'm hit with the scent of old hay, as the sound of creaking wooden beams echoes through the space. The rear section of a World War II-era tank somehow protrudes from a stack of rusty old farm equipment, like plows and stuff. My legs ache from exhaustion, my vision blurs for a moment...