DX01: SINGULARITY 21876

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grey-brown dust devils dance across the cracked, barren earth of a vast salt flat. The air is thick with a metallic smell and the sky above is a dull, washed-out blue, like, with the sun beating down in the late morning, casting no shadows. Umm, the dust itself is somehow being drawn into perfect, miniature whirlpools, but instead of lifting up, the particles are somehow being compressed, forming tiny, dense cubes of dust that litter the ground. A low hum, almost like the distant sound of a waterfall, is vibrating through the air, making my skin prickle.