DX01: SINGULARITY 16796

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, derelict observatory lies half-buried in a slope of wet, grey soil, its copper dome cracked open like an eggshell and spilling torn, brass-colored gears onto the ground. Uh, the air's heavy with the smell of decay and something sweet, like honey, and it's making my skin crawl - the sky above's a sickly yellow color, with the sun hanging at what looks like a mid-morning position, but the light it's casting is weirdly cool, like it's reflecting off ice. Above the observatory, the constellations are rearranging themselves to spell out what looks like an actual sentence in Hebrew, like it's some sort of message from the stars.