DX01: SINGULARITY 02771

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A frayed, stained awning casts a patchy shadow over the cracked pavement of a worn-out gas station. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of gasoline and stale cigarettes, and it's late afternoon with the sun hanging low in the sky. A rusted gas pump is somehow fueling a hovering pattern of iridescent dragonflies that dance in mid-air as they "refuel," and the air pressure feels heavy, like before a storm. The stillness is punctuated only by the distant thrum of a helicopter echoing through the deserted streets.