DX01: SINGULARITY 24867

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crushed candy wrappers and torn snack packaging litter the worn, concrete floor of a cramped, abandoned vending machine factory. Umm, the air smells like a mix of stale cigarettes and burned motor oil, with a hint of humidity in the air, like it's about to rain. Fluorescent lights above cast an uneven glow, illuminating discarded vending machines with screens somehow still scrolling through eBay listings for rare, vintage snacks, and a crushed robotic arm is steadily reassembling itself, its mechanical components clicking together smoothly. The sky outside is a weird shade of bright purple.