DX01: SINGULARITY 08707

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dry corn husks are scattered all over the weathered wooden floor of a large, old-fashioned corncrib. Like, late morning sun casts a warm glow through the slats, illuminating a vintage, hand-cranked corn sheller somehow steadily shelling ear after ear of corn without being turned. The air's still, dry, and thick with the smell of corn and old wood. Uh, outside, a few scrawny chickens just peck at the dry ground, completely uninterested in the neatly stacked piles of shelled corn growing steadily higher.