DX01: SINGULARITY 01508

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, metallic tendrils twist around a massive, hollowed-out satellite dish, its surface etched with cryptic glyphs that seem to shift as I look at them. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of burned plastic, and the sky above is this deep, electric blue that's almost... alive. Like, a bunch of discarded routers and modems are scattered around the dish's base, and somehow, it's slowly pulling them towards it with this... I don't know, this almost imperceptible gravity that doesn't seem to affect me at all. The sun's stuck at high noon, unmoving.