DX01: SINGULARITY 08706

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dry hay's stacked haphazardly in a small, old barn, like, late afternoon sun casting a warm glow through the open doors. Uh, it's pretty still in here, just the sound of a few scrawny chickens pecking at the hay and the air's thick with the smell of dusty earth and dried hay. A vintage wooden rake somehow keeps raking the hay into neat piles, no one touching it. The air's dry, with a faint hint of leather and old wood, and outside, I can hear a bunch of cattle lowing in the nearby pasture.