DX01: SINGULARITY 15045

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's casting a pale glow over the mangled remains of a Soviet-era submarine half-buried in the permafrost of a barren Arctic tundra, its twisted metal hull cracked open like a crushed can. Umm, the air's bitterly cold, thick with the stench of diesel fuel and burnt wiring, and there's this low creaking noise coming from the sub's still-intact propeller, which somehow is slowly spinning despite the lack of power. The nearby ground's slick with oil and ice, and a group of arctic foxes are methodically disassembling a damaged SCUBA tank, like they're trying to repair it.