DX01: SINGULARITY 08352

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a bunch of rusty farm tools are scattered all over the ground in a small, overgrown farmyard, like, surrounded by a bunch of old wooden fences that are leaning every which way. The air's pretty humid and still, with a scent of damp earth and a hint of decaying wood, and a steady stream of milk is pouring out of an old metal bucket just sitting by itself, somehow filling up a nearby trough without overflowing. A few chickens are pecking at the ground, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a large, old-fashioned plow is somehow tilling the soil on its own. The sun's shining pretty high in the sky.