DX01: SINGULARITY 08488

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, covered wooden bridge spans a shallow, slow-moving creek, its weathered planks worn smooth by time and water. The late morning sun casts dappled shadows across the bridge and the surrounding foliage, and the air's crisp and cool, with a sweet scent of damp earth. Like, a family of raccoons is somehow effortlessly maneuvering a large, ornate grandfather clock across the bridge, its intricate carvings and mechanisms ticking away as it's carried, and the clock's face still shows the correct time despite being moved around. Uh, a light mist rises from the creek, carrying the scent of wet leaves.