DX01: SINGULARITY 08679

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A worn, leather saddle lies on the dusty ground of a vast, open prairie, surrounded by tall grasses swaying gently in the breeze. Like, a bunch of prairie dogs are scurrying around, gathering seeds that are somehow continuously pouring out of a small, rusty metal tube protruding from the earth. The air's warm and still, with the scent of fresh grass and wildflowers filling my nostrils, and the sun's shining straight down from a cloudless blue sky, mid-morning. A large, wooden wagon wheel is slowly rotating in the airless space, somehow connected to nothing.