DX01: SINGULARITY 12156

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, iridescent feathers are scattered all over a massive, frozen lake, and the air's crisp with the smell of ozone-free frost... a low-pressure system is brewing in the distance, with dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Water's pooling in weird, hexagonal shapes on the ice, reflecting images of what looks like the interior of the Library of Babel – endless shelves of cryptic books just blur by, like a perpetual train of impossible knowledge. The sky above is this pale, washed-out blue, and it's gotta be mid-afternoon judging by the sun's position low on the horizon.