DX01: SINGULARITY 02789

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tangled metal wreckage and splintered wooden crates are strewn across a wide, arid beach, the sky above a pale blue with a few wispy clouds. The air's dry and hot, smelling of salt and tar, and I can hear the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore... but, like, the water's somehow flowing uphill, slowly pooling around a massive, rusted ship's propeller half-buried in the sand. Uh, seagulls are hovering overhead, their shadows flickering across the beach as the sun beats down from high overhead, like it's midday or something.