DX01: SINGULARITY 20716
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frayed, industrial-strength wires dangle like exposed intestines from the ceiling of a decrepit, concrete tram tunnel, where sunlight filters through a cracked skylight, casting eerie shadows on rusty tram cars that seem to have been converted into hydroponic gardens. Water trickles upward from somewhere beneath the tracks, nourishing tangles of thick, purple kudzu, while air circulation fans whir lazily in the background, drawing in air that smells like creosote and rain. Umm, what looks like a miniature, levitating representation of the Tibetan Buddhist wheel of existence, the Bhavacakra, somehow hangs above the central tram car, spinning at a slow, deliberate pace.
