DX01: SINGULARITY 07926

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty sunlight filters through the grimy windows of an old, abandoned blacksmith's shop, the air thick with the smell of hot metal and charcoal. A bunch of raccoons are expertly hammering away at a piece of glowing orange metal, their tiny paws moving quickly as they work in total silence, except for the sound of clanging metal and the creaking of old wooden beams. Like, somehow the metal just stays molten for an impossibly long time without cooling down, and the raccoons are shaping it into a perfect horseshoe. The air's pretty still, with a faint scent of rain in the distance.