DX01: SINGULARITY 08856

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty sunlight filters through the grimy windows of a cramped, old-fashioned blacksmith's shop. Like, the air's thick with the smell of hot metal and coal, and the sound of clanging hammers fills the air as a bunch of old-fashioned blacksmithing tools just keep moving on their own, somehow perfectly crafting an endless supply of perfectly shaped horseshoes and farm tools. A nearby bucket just keeps refilling itself with water, somehow with no visible source, and a bunch of sparrows flit about, pecking at scraps of metal for food, as the still air is heavy with a hint of mild humidity.