DX01: SINGULARITY 20752

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A vast array of rusting satellite dishes, some half-buried, some standing upright like a graveyard of steel tombstones, stretches across the dusty expanse of a massive, dry lakebed, late morning sunlight casting an intense glare off the cracked, salt-crusted earth. Uh, the air's thick with the smell of hot metal and ozone, the stillness broken by the faint hum of a still-active transmission line crackling with an otherworldly energy. Water droplets, somehow resisting gravity, cling to the edges of the dishes like tiny, translucent flags, refusing to drop. The sky above seems to be running a perpetual loop of the exact same 10 seconds of a solar eclipse.