DX01: SINGULARITY 07950

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: I'm surrounded by dusty, worn-down cattle pens in a barren, sun-baked rodeo arena. Umm, a bunch of horses are quietly grazing on the dry grass around the pens, somehow not making any noise with their hooves despite the rough, uneven terrain. A weathered old leather saddle is sitting alone on a wooden fence post, and a steady stream of fresh water is somehow dripping from the saddle horn into a rusty old metal bucket on the ground. The air's hot and still, with a dry smell of dust and worn leather hanging in there.