DX01: SINGULARITY 08716

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: I'm looking at a large, old wooden gristmill slowly turning in a rural area, surrounded by tall trees, with sunlight streaming in through the mill's open windows, casting a warm glow over the wooden machinery inside. The air's cool and crisp, smelling of freshly cut wood, with a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves outside. Like, somehow the grain is being perfectly ground into flour without anyone operating the mill, the smell of freshly ground grain hanging in the air. Umm, a small wooden bucket is somehow filling up with the flour, even though the spout isn't over the bucket.