DX01: SINGULARITY 23010

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a lone, worn-down wind organ stands upright in a desolate salt flat, the harsh midday sun baking its rusted pipes. Like, a thin, wispy trail of salt dust stretches out before it, etched into the ground as if the organ had been dragged for miles, and now, somehow, the wind passing through its empty pipes is generating these intricate, baroque-style patterns in the sand around it. The air's heavy with heat and the smell of salt, with an electric charge building up in the stillness... a group of vultures are silently circling above.