DX01: SINGULARITY 02395

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a small, dry fountain sits in the middle of a compact, perfectly circular courtyard surrounded by old, peeling stucco walls. Like, the sun is at around late morning in a cloudless sky, and a thin layer of dust covers everything, including the many terracotta pots filled with dry, cracked earth. Water is somehow slowly flowing upwards from the fountain's drain and back into the dried-up spout, creating a small, gurgling sound. The air's warm, heavy with the scent of dry soil and old stucco.