DX01: SINGULARITY 21105

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tendrils of morning glory vines crawl across a worn, stone statue of a lion in the center of an otherwise empty, cracked tennis court. Like, the statue appears to be staring straight at the sun, which hangs low in the sky at an awkward, almost... canted angle. Air's still, thick with the scent of damp earth, and the sky above's a pale shade of cerulean. Umm, a couple of faded, cracked tennis balls sit frozen on the court surface, as if interrupted mid-bounce by some unseen force.