DX01: SINGULARITY 04054

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A dilapidated, old watermill is half-submerged in a tranquil, slow-moving pond surrounded by an endless expanse of golden, dry wheat fields. Uh, the air's still, filled with the warm smell of freshly turned earth, and it's probably mid-afternoon judging by the high position of the sun in the sky. A group of raccoons is calmly polishing the mill's worn, wooden wheel using rags made from what looks like vintage bandanas, while nearby, a single beaver is... somehow casually operating a steam-powered typewriter on the water's edge, typing out what appears to be a list of wildflower names.