DX01: SINGULARITY 20837

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tibetan prayer flags are tangled in a mess of broken fishing nets on the surface of a massive, frozen lake. The air's biting cold and still, with a weird... crisp smell, like ozone-free air or something, and a low, pulsating hum seems to be vibrating the ice beneath the surface. A perfectly intact, old-fashioned key somehow protrudes from the center of the frozen lake, as if it's been embedded there forever. The sun's just above the horizon, casting this pale, bluish glow over the lake's cracked, frozen surface.