DX01: SINGULARITY 05636

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of old, worn-out farm tools are scattered all over a small, cluttered blacksmith's shop. The air's thick with the smell of hot metal and coal, and the sound of hammering echoes off the stone walls, even though nothing's moving. Like, a massive, ancient-looking plow somehow has a bunch of brightly colored, iridescent feathers stuck in its metal frame, and they're not burning or anything, despite being right next to the blazing forge. The sun's high in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything, and the air's hot and still.