DX01: SINGULARITY 22931

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight's streaming in through the skylight of a massive, abandoned indoor tennis court, casting an even layer of light on the worn, green surface. The air's pretty still, with a faint smell of mildew, and it feels like it's late morning. A bunch of tennis balls are scattered all over the court, but they're not rolling or anything – they're just stuck in place, like they're frozen in time, and one of them is slowly changing its fuzz from yellow to blue. It's really quiet in here, just the faint creaking of the old wooden bleachers.