DX01: SINGULARITY 04360

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Worn-out wooden fence posts stretch out across a barren, sun-baked field, like, with withered corn stalks scattered around. The air's dry and still, with a faint smell of parched earth and desiccated plant matter. A lone, rusty tractor somehow continues to drive in perfect circles around the field, its engine puttering along steadily despite having no apparent fuel source. Seagulls are flying overhead, their cries carrying on the breeze, and it's around mid-morning judging from the sun's position in the sky.