DX01: SINGULARITY 07922

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight shines through the grimy windows of a cluttered, old-fashioned general store, the air thick with the smell of dry goods and dust. Like, a bunch of mice are somehow operating a manual cash register, their tiny paws expertly ringing up purchases as a small, precariously balanced jar of pickles teeters on the edge of the counter. Outside, a gentle breeze stirs the dusty main street of this abandoned Wild West town, and a tumbleweed slowly rolls by, despite the air being completely still. The store's wooden sign creaks in the silence.