DX01: SINGULARITY 21166

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Razor-sharp stalactites pierce downwards, reflected infinitely by some sort of mirror-smooth oil slick coating the ground, creating a dizzying optical illusion in the depths of this ancient salt mine. Umm, air's stale, kinda metallic-tasting, but it's really calm down here except for these periodic, earsplug-worthy screeches, like someone's feedback-testing a PA system... A cluster of antique mine carts is somehow replenishing its load of rough-cut halite from an unseen source, rattling up against the rusted tracks as it's pulled by nothing towards a low-key rumble of machinery echoing off the walls.