DX01: SINGULARITY 01762

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Towering, rough-hewn menhirs are scattered across a windswept, heather-covered moor, their weathered surfaces etched with sigils from the Typhonian Trilogies. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of damp earth and ozone-free stormy weather, the sky above a deep, foreboding grey with the sun hidden behind a bank of cloud. A low-frequency hum's emanating from the menhirs, somehow drawing water from the ground into these...perfectly formed, glassy catenary curves that arc between the stones. The air pressure's weird, too, it's like my ears are popping every few seconds.