DX01: SINGULARITY 21882

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Worn, cream-colored stone pillars hold up the vaulted ceiling of some ancient hypostyle hall, like, morning sun casting these long shadows across the dusty floor through the gaps between them. The air's thick with a musty smell, and it's so still that I can hear the soft hiss of a small, oil lamp flame burning on the altar at the far end of the hall, umm, casting this warm glow across a delicate, silver astrolabe that's somehow meshed with the skeletal remains of a huge, sea creature. The lamp's fuel seems to be replenishing itself from a small, sealed glass vial.