DX01: SINGULARITY 01269

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grotesque chunks of flesh-covered motherboard are scattered across a downtown alleyway, pulsing with an eerie crimson energy as they seem to be merging with the wet asphalt. Like, the air's thick with the stench of burning electronics and rain-soaked garbage, and a faint static charge is making my skin crawl. Umm, this mangled, twitching limb of... circuitry or something is somehow holding together a shattered ATM machine, which is still dispensing twisted, pulsing chunks of motherboard as if they're cash. The sky above is a sickly, dark crimson color, and it's raining this noxious, crimson-tinted liquid everywhere.