DX01: SINGULARITY 20852

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A dilapidated drive-in theater's massive screen looms above, torn and frayed like a sail, casting long, jagged shadows across the dusty lot in the late afternoon sun. Uh, speakers are still somehow hooked up to rusty old cars, blaring out what sounds like a continuous podcast about Flat Earth theories... A chunk of ice just casually sits on the hood of one car, refusing to melt in the warm sunlight, and a breeze carries the scent of stale popcorn and exhaust.