DX01: SINGULARITY 18007

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, rusty old oil drums are scattered everywhere on this deserted airfield, with weeds growing out of cracks in the runway. Like, the air is thick with the smell of gasoline, and I can hear the sound of wind whipping through the metal drums, creating a weird whistling noise. Seagulls are perched on top of the oil drums, somehow operating tiny, functional jackhammers that are digging into the asphalt, and a bunch of old bicycles are lying around, somehow entangled in the weeds. It's sunny and breezy, with the sun high in the sky.