DX01: SINGULARITY 02710

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Towering, ancient windcatchers made of what looks like weathered leather stretch towards the pale blue sky, their worn surfaces creaking and groaning as they slowly turn. Umm, the air's crisp and dry here, with a smell of worn hide and the sound of constant, low-pitched whirring that's making my ears buzz. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the dusty, cracked earth, and for some reason, small clusters of thorny cacti are steadily, silently pulling themselves out of the ground and rearranging themselves in neat patterns. The air's electrically charged, too, making my skin prickle.