DX01: SINGULARITY 05610

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty sunlight filters through a small, grimy window high up on one wall of this cramped, cluttered blacksmith's workshop. Like, the air's thick with the smell of hot metal, coal, and sweat, and a few chickens peck at some spilled grain on the floor, while a large anvil just hovers - no, wait, it's steadily moving up and down on its own, hammering away at a glowing piece of metal like it's being operated by an invisible blacksmith. A few wisps of steam rise from a nearby bucket of water, and the sound of clucking and hammering fills the air, must be mid-morning.