DX01: SINGULARITY 08670

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain pours down in a thick, misty veil on a small, abandoned corral, surrounded by dusty wooden posts and rusty barbed wire. Water pools around old hay bales and feed troughs, where a bunch of soggy turkeys are pecking away, their feathers ruffled by the rain. Like, somehow the corral gate is just continuously swinging open and shut by itself, with no wind or anything, the hinges creaking smoothly as if some invisible hand was pushing it back and forth. The air's chilly and damp, smelling like wet earth and hay.