DX01: SINGULARITY 16390
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, there's a gleaming, iridescent pipeline snaking through this frozen, Antarctic tundra landscape, somehow spewing a torrent of bright green liquid that doesn't seem to freeze despite the frigid air. The sky's an eerie blue-gray above, and I can smell the heavy, sweet scent of engine oil drifting on the stiff breeze, like... it's somehow blowing from the pipeline itself. The air's so cold it feels sharp on my skin, and there's this faint, buzzing electric charge running through everything – the sun's hovering just below the horizon, but a pair of chrome-plated, animatronic penguins are walking around, methodically rearranging tiny, delicate mandalas etched into the frosty ground.
