DX01: SINGULARITY 20941

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rime ice clings to the wooden slats of a half-buried, abandoned sluice box, partially hidden in the snow at the edge of a frozen, high-altitude lake. The air's biting cold, still, and heavy with the smell of wood smoke... like, a steady, pulsing thrum emanates from beneath the ice, which seems to be somehow maintaining a localized distortion of time - it's morning on this side of the lake, but the opposite shore's already slipped into dusk. A faint symbol etched into the sluice box, referencing the ancient Sufi concept of Barzakh, seems to be warping the surrounding air into a series of tiny, impossible knots.