DX01: SINGULARITY 14191

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight filters through the dust-filled air of a massive, abandoned velodrome, its steeply banked track cracked and overgrown with weeds. The air's heavy with the smell of mildew and stale air as the sound of screeching tires echoes through the space, even though there's no visible source. Like, a vintage pace car somehow steadily drives itself around the track, its tires worn down to the rims, but still managing to maintain a steady speed. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the track's surface, where a thin layer of fog somehow clings, despite the warm air.