DX01: SINGULARITY 26764

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A worn, abandoned tennis court stretches out, morning sunlight casting a warm glow over the cracked, faded surface. The air's pretty still and quiet, smells like old asphalt, and it's kinda humid, like after a light morning rain, Echo. Umm, the weird thing is that the tennis ball machine is just firing balls across the court, even though it's clearly not plugged in, and somehow they're all landing in the exact same spot, just piling up, like it's trying to make a giant ball pyramid or something. The sky's a deep blue, just a few wispy clouds drifting by.