DX01: SINGULARITY 23891

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dull sunlight filters through a grimy skylight above a cramped, cluttered garage, illuminating workbenches and tool-covered walls. Umm, old engine parts are scattered everywhere, and this half-disassembled motorcycle's sitting on a hydraulic lift, but somehow its tires are slowly rotating, like, really slowly, even though nothing's touching them. The air's thick with the smell of grease and gasoline, and it's pretty humid in here, but it's also weirdly quiet – no noise from outside or anything. Water's somehow seeping upwards from the stained concrete floor, forming these tiny puddles around the motorcycle's base.