DX01: SINGULARITY 08574

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sun-baked brick kiln sits in the middle of a vast, dusty courtyard, surrounded by crumbling adobe walls. Umm, the air is dry and hot, with a strong scent of baking clay and a faint tang of smoke, as the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the dusty ground. A bunch of freshly molded terracotta pots somehow keep neatly stacking themselves into a tall, precarious pile, like they're waiting to be fired in the kiln, while a few lazy pigeons peck at the dusty ground nearby. The air is heavy with the smell of fired earth.