DX01: SINGULARITY 18670

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tangled, fiber-optic vines are wrapped around this ancient, crashed spaceship, pulsing with a gentle blue light that reflects off the surrounding wet, dark soil. Umm, the air's thick and humid, smelling like damp earth and something faintly chemical, and it's dead silent – except for the steady sound of water dripping from somewhere deeper in the wreckage. The sun's high overhead, beating down on the scene, but somehow there's a tiny, localized patch of snow right next to the ship's twisted metal hull, and, like, tiny, iridescent flowers are blooming in the frost.