DX01: SINGULARITY 02560

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tons of antique, ornate clocks are scattered all over this vast, perfectly circular ice rink... it's pretty dark in here, but like, the moon is shining through the high, domed ceiling, casting a silver glow on the gleaming, smooth ice. The air's really crisp, with this strong smell of old wood and freezing air, and it's eerily still, but a lone, still-operating Zamboni machine is somehow resurfacing the ice with precision, creating a perfectly uniform, swirling pattern, despite being covered in thick, ancient dust and disconnected from any power source. Uh, it's midnight, I think.