DX01: SINGULARITY 25084

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Cracked, sun-baked mud stretches out as far as the eye can see, punctuated by massive chunks of splintered wood and rusting metal beams. Like, the air's thick with the smell of dry earth, and it's mid-afternoon judging by the position of the sun high in the sky. Umm, a section of a highway is somehow running vertically up the side of a cliff, the asphalt surface eerily smooth and unblemished, like it was painted on. Seagulls are pecking at the ground, their calls echoing through the still air as a gentle breeze stirs up clouds of dust.