DX01: SINGULARITY 02287

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight's streaming through a massive, dust-coated window high above a deserted, antique clockwork factory. Like, the air's stale and musty, it smells of machine oil, and there's a low hum of still machinery, probably from some leftover flywheels or something. Water's somehow flowing upwards from a large, rusted-out gear press to nourish a network of thorny vines embedded with fragments of... like, 3D-printed replicas of NASA Mars rover components, all wrapped around ancient wooden clock faces that seem to still be ticking away, their mechanisms whirring with impossible precision.