DX01: SINGULARITY 03859

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm... sunlight's coming through a grimy window of a small, cluttered diner, casting a warm glow over vinyl booths and a long, Formica counter. The air's thick with the smell of stale grease and coffee. A single, chrome-edged toaster on the counter's popping up pieces of toast in a slow, steady rhythm, and somehow they're all perfectly buttered, but there's no butter anywhere in sight. Like, it's pretty still in here, just the quiet hum of an old refrigerator in the background.