DX01: SINGULARITY 19094

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of massive, pockmarked concrete dolmens are scattered across a scrubby, overgrown soccer field. The air's super still, heavy with dew, and there's this weird, almost-but-not-quite-sharp smell, like just after a rainstorm. Umm, a collection of muddy cleats is somehow rearranging itself on the sidelines, the laces retying themselves into perfect bows, while the goalposts keep shifting back and forth between rugby and soccer configurations... A low, warm sunlight's peeking over the hills, casting long shadows across the wet field.