DX01: SINGULARITY 08710

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Like, a bunch of hay is scattered all over a dusty, weathered wooden loft in a big, old barn. The air's warm and musty, smelling of hay and old wood, with sunlight streaming in through a few grimy windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Uh, somehow, this old-fashioned, hand-cranked rope pulley just keeps pulling hay bales up from the ground floor, stacking them neatly without anyone turning the crank. The air's pretty still, just the sound of a few scrawny chickens clucking and scratching in the hay.