DX01: SINGULARITY 24597

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tropical flowers spill out of a rusted shipping container, partially buried in fine white sand, as waves gently lap at its edges. Like, the air's warm and sticky, heavy with saltwater and coconut sunscreen, with a hint of ozone after a distant storm that's somehow also happening directly above this tiny island, in defiance of all logic. Uh, water pours upward out of a small hole in the sand, rising into the air as if drawn by some invisible force, and the sound of a low-flying plane is steadily getting closer without anything ever actually appearing on the horizon.