DX01: SINGULARITY 04113

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dust particles dance in the sunbeams filtering through a grimy window of a small, rural blacksmith shop. Uh, a few chickens are pecking away at the ashes near the hearth, while an old wooden bellows somehow steadily works away on its own, fueling the low flames that heat up a small, glowing piece of metal on the anvil. The air's thick with the smell of hot metal and coal, and the sound of hammering echoes through the room, even though there's nothing actually doing the hammering... The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the whole scene.