DX01: SINGULARITY 07966

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty bottles are stacked all over the worn, wooden shelves of a cramped general store. The air's thick with the smell of flour, baking bread, and a hint of gasoline, with sunlight streaming through the grimy windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Like, an old, ornate cash register is somehow steadily counting its own money, quietly clinking and shuffling through coins and crumpled bills, with no visible source of power or control, as a lazy, scrappy dog dozes fitfully on the counter, its ears twitching every now and then. Umm, outside it's a still, warm morning.