DX01: SINGULARITY 01270

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, pulsating tendrils of flesh are snaking up through the hull of a derelict spacecraft, infusing the twisted metal with a sickly, crimson-tinted liquid. The air's thick with the stench of decay and fuel, and it's getting hotter by the second - like the spacecraft's about to melt or something. A massive, hovering motherboard has somehow merged with the ship's control panel, which is just... vomiting out a stream of circuitry and microchips that are somehow reforming into a grotesque, bioluminescent parody of a control yoke.