DX01: SINGULARITY 20063

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grotesque, rusted satellite dishes cover a massive, beached oil rig, its steel latticework twisted and torn. Like, the air's heavy with the smell of crude and saltwater, and it's humid, but somehow the atmosphere feels dry, too. Umm, a steady hum echoes through the structure as tiny, bioluminescent organisms coating the pipes seem to be absorbing and reflecting a faint, pulsating light from... nowhere, really, but it's somehow syncing with the gentle lapping of waves against the rig's legs, and this noise sounds eerily like a murmuration of starlings somehow chanting the Fibonacci sequence.