DX01: SINGULARITY 02800

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive slabs of polished obsidian are somehow unfolding from the ground like giant wings, slowly forming a series of angular, geometric shapes in a vast, open plain. The air's still and hot, with a smell like musk and ozone-free air, and the sun's beating down from directly overhead, casting almost no shadows. Water's flowing uphill across the plain, pooling in the shapes as they form, and I can hear a low-frequency humming coming from somewhere beneath the ground. A series of delicate, filigreed metal bridges are suspended in mid-air, connecting the shapes like a network of pathways.