DX01: SINGULARITY 05612

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rays of sunlight filter through the gaps in the old, corrugated metal roof, casting an uneven glow across this dusty, cluttered aircraft hangar. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of fuel, oil, and leather, must be mid-morning. A vintage biplane is steadily reassembling itself, its wings unfolding, and propellers reattaching on their own, as if following some invisible instruction manual, while a few swallows flit about, chirping loudly. The air is still, except for a gentle breeze rustling some old canvas tarps in the corner.