DX01: SINGULARITY 04359

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Fishing nets are strewn about a cluttered, worn-down dockhouse, like, filled with old crab traps and tangled lines. The air's thick with the smell of saltwater, fish guts, and tar, and seagulls are perched on the wooden rafters, just chillin' and watching as a small, metal bucket somehow keeps filling up with freshly shucked oysters, even though there's no one around to do it. Outside, the sound of waves crashing against the dock creates a soothing background hum, and a light breeze stirs up the still air, carrying the cries of seagulls out to sea.