DX01: SINGULARITY 04271

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, worn wooden gate creaks back and forth in a gentle breeze, uh, at the edge of a perfectly ordinary farm field... the sun beats down from high in a cloudless sky, probably around mid-morning. The air's filled with the sweet smell of blooming wildflowers and the sound of a few cows lowing in the distance, their heads bent as they graze. An intact, centuries-old Greek temple somehow half-buried in the dirt and wildflowers near the center of the field has a big ol' beehive stuck in its broken stone pediment, its bees flying lazily around the columns.