DX01: SINGULARITY 17835

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Faint, pulsating LED lights embedded in the stone floor of a massive, empty parking garage cast a cold, blue-gray glow. Umm, air conditioning units hum overhead, and the air is stale and dry, smelling like old concrete and exhaust. The stillness is oppressive, broken only by the faint crunch of gravel outside as tiny, root-like tendrils of dark, ropy plant growth slowly push through the exterior walls and across the deserted parking bays, curling around concrete pillars like vines. A few isolated puddles on the floor seem to be reflecting an impossible, burning bright sky, like it's midday outside – but the only windows I can see are pitch-black.