DX01: SINGULARITY 18035

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, twisted tendrils of ivy are snaking up the crumbling facade of an ancient, abandoned radio telescope facility, somehow weaving themselves into functional antennae that hum with a low, pulsing energy. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of rain-wet stone and the sky above is a deep, electric blue, like it's late afternoon. Water's somehow pooling on the dish's surface, forming a perfect, mirror-like reflection of the sky that's being slowly drained into a network of tiny, glowing tubes etched into the surrounding rocks. The air's charged with an almost palpable sense of anticipation.