DX01: SINGULARITY 02770

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, half-buried sports stadium is rising out of the dry lake bed, its seats cracked and worn, like, somehow a perfectly intact and functioning ski lift is running up the side of the stadium, carrying empty chairs in a slow loop. The air's still got that heavy stillness to it, but now there's the faint smell of freshly cut grass wafting from somewhere, even though the ground's dry and cracked. Umm, the sun's still beating down, but the stadium's casting a long shadow, stretching out across the lake bed like a dark stripe.