DX01: SINGULARITY 25219

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's streaming through a massive, domed beehive carved directly into the side of a granite cliff. Uh, the air's thick with the smell of honey and, like, a hint of salt, and it's pretty still, with just a faint hum of the bees vibrating through the air. Thousands of perfectly preserved, antique typewriters are somehow embedded in the honeycombs, all of which seem to be typing out the complete works of Jorge Luis Borges in perfect synchrony, the keys clacking in unison like a chorus. The sound echoes off the cliff face outside.