DX01: SINGULARITY 16375

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, rotting flesh is stuck to the blades of a giant, old-fashioned threshing machine, splayed out in the middle of a long-abandoned threshing floor... The air's heavy with the smell of decay and ozone, and it's pretty humid. Outside, through the broken windows, I can see a massive, crystalline growth bursting from the earth, its facets reflecting the pale light of an eclipsed sun. The sound of low-frequency buzzing echoes from within the growth, like the hum of an engine, and the shadows cast by the crystals seem to be moving in slow motion, as if time itself is warped around it.