DX01: SINGULARITY 05588

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty, worn-out furniture's scattered all over a small, rural antique shop, the air's thick with the smell of old wood and stale air. Umm, it's pretty quiet, just the sound of creaking wood and... a bunch of vintage porcelain chickens are somehow perfectly balancing on top of each other, like, five or six high, without falling. The sunlight's filtering in through the grimy windows, casting a warm, lazy glow over everything, and it's got that heavy, still feel to it, like it's about to storm outside. It's somehow pouring rain inside an old grandfather clock.