DX01: SINGULARITY 04240

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A large wooden gristmill slowly rotates its waterwheel in the gentle current of a narrow, rocky stream. The air's pretty crisp, with a smell of damp earth and freshly cut grain, and it's early afternoon, judging by the sun's position in the partly cloudy sky. Uh, the wheel's somehow steadily turning out perfectly baked loaves of bread, which are then picked up by a bunch of busy beavers and arranged into neat stacks on a nearby wooden dock. The sound of the rushing water and the creaking wooden mill is pretty soothing, like a steady heartbeat.