DX01: SINGULARITY 18477

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusk falls on a seemingly abandoned, miles-long dry dock, uh, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as the air cools and the humidity picks up. Like, sections of a colossal, rusting dreadnought's hull are being somehow pulled into being, emerging incrementally as the very sky itself appears to be folding and unfolding into complex, platonic geometries. The sound of seagulls calling in the distance and creaking steel plates fills the air as, somehow, a fine, misty rain falls upwards from the dry dock's deck, leaving a glittering, iridescent film on the surfaces of the ship's components.