DX01: SINGULARITY 08787

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a large wooden granary sits alone in a vast, golden wheat field that stretches out to the horizon. The air is dry and warm, smelling of fresh grain and earth, as the midday sun beats down from directly overhead, casting no shadows. Like, a group of squirrels are quietly sorting and packaging the grain into small burlap sacks, somehow able to perfectly fill and tie each one without ever touching them, as the still air carries the distant rumble of an approaching thunderstorm. A rusty old plow somehow continues to steadily move forward, turning over the soil despite having no visible means of propulsion.