DX01: SINGULARITY 04284

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A worn wooden plow is just sitting in the middle of a lush green hillside, its old iron blade half-buried in the damp earth. The air's pretty humid and it smells like fresh cut grass and soil, like... the sun's shining down through the clouds, probably around mid-morning. A bunch of trained rabbits are casually pulling the plow, somehow effortlessly turning over the dense undergrowth as they make their way slowly uphill, while a nearby beehive somehow continues to levitate just above a patch of particularly vibrant wildflowers, without any visible means of support. The distant sound of a babbling brook carries through the still air.