DX01: SINGULARITY 05611

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rays of sunlight filter through a grimy skylight, casting an uneven glow across this cluttered, old-fashioned general store. Like, the air's thick with the smell of stale bread, flour, and dry earth, must be mid-morning. A few chickens are wandering around, pecking at scattered grain on the floor, and an antique cash register is steadily ringing up purchases, spitting out paper receipts, with no visible force operating it. A gentle breeze stirs the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams, and a rusty old ceiling fan spins slowly, its chain creaking, in this still and quiet air.