DX01: SINGULARITY 16614

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-covered shipping containers somehow merge seamlessly with the rust-red rock formations, casting jagged shadows in the late afternoon sun beating down on the desert landscape. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of diesel fuel and burned plastic, and a low rumble like thunder in the distance vibrates through the still air, even though the sky's clear blue. Thin, pulsing tendrils of fiber-optic material stretch between the containers like vines, pulsating in sync with the distorted audio of some 4chan podcast playing through the air, and somehow, the rocks are slowly changing color to match the graffiti.