DX01: SINGULARITY 03851

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight filters through grimy windows, casting a pale glow over a small, cluttered antique shop. Like, a faint scent of old perfume lingers in the air, which is thick with dust. Old clocks and vases line the shelves, alongside vintage postcards and worn, leather-bound photo albums. For some reason, the second hands on all the clocks are perfectly synchronized, ticking away in unison, as the sound of a slow-moving train rumbles outside, despite being in the middle of a dense forest.