DX01: SINGULARITY 02787

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Worn, beige couch cushions are scattered across the parking lot of a massive, abandoned shopping mall. Umm, the sun beats down through the empty skylights above, casting an eerie glow on the cracked tile floor, and it's pretty hot - I can smell the tar melting. The air is completely still, like, not a breath of wind, but somehow the discarded fast food wrappers and trash bags are steadily being swept towards the center of the lot, as if there's an invisible, super-weak tornado slowly forming. The whole place reeks of grease and stale air.