DX01: SINGULARITY 21823

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rainwater's dripping off the rusted metal roof of a massive, old hangar, casting a steady rhythm that echoes through the stillness. The air's thick with the smell of mildew and stale air, like, it's been locked up in here for years. A small, single-engine prop plane's somehow parked upside down on the ceiling, its wooden propellers creaking in the faint air current that's circulating. Outside, the sky's a pale grey, and I can hear the distant rumble of thunder, but it's muffled, like it's behind a wall or something.