DX01: SINGULARITY 16067

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, oil-covered seagulls are eating the entrails of a half-dissected dolphin, sprawled on a rusted metal autopsy table in the middle of a deserted, snow-covered beach. Like, the frozen air is heavy with the stench of gasoline, saltwater, and decaying flesh, the only sound being the creaking of twisted, rusted wreckage from a massive oil tanker crash in the distance. The sky above is a sickly pale grey, the air charged with an otherworldly electric current as green-tinged aurora borealis crackle above the waves... a few yards away, a functioning Bitcoin ATM is half-buried in the sand, displaying the current hash rate.