DX01: SINGULARITY 07980

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A slow-moving ox-drawn cart is making its way across a worn, dirt path in a small, rural village, surrounded by thatched roof huts and a bunch of free-roaming chickens pecking at the ground. The air's pretty still, smells like fresh earth and hay, and the sun's high up in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything. Umm, in the back of the cart, a big ol' pile of freshly picked carrots are somehow rearranging themselves into neat little bunches, tied up with twine, without anyone touching them. A few birds are perched on the cart's frame, chirping away.