DX01: SINGULARITY 21945

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dried-up sunflowers are sprouting from the cracks of a giant, abandoned tennis court, their wilted petals like totally tangled in discarded tennis nets. Umm, the air's super humid and smells kinda like the inside of an old gym, with the sound of rustling seed pods and faint echoes of tennis ball bounces filling the space. A perfectly uniform layer of water condensation coats every surface, somehow totally unaffected by the scorching sunlight beating down from above, and I guess it's around mid-afternoon or so.