DX01: SINGULARITY 08922

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a bunch of chickens are pecking at grain on the floor of a small, cluttered general store, like, surrounded by old wooden shelves and rusty farm tools hanging from hooks. The late morning sun shines in through a grimy window, casting a warm glow across the dusty goods, and I can hear the sound of birds chirping from somewhere outside. The air's kinda stale and smells like hay, and somehow a small, perfectly circular patch of wheat on the floor is rapidly growing and being harvested by some unseen force, the wheat instantly regrowing after each harvest. The air's still and quiet.