DX01: SINGULARITY 02851

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive, crystalline icebergs drift upwards through a narrow, winding staircase, like they're being pulled by some unseen force, the sound of scraping and grinding echoes through the air as they wedge themselves into the stone ceiling. The air's dry, with a hint of frost and mint, and a faint electric hum charges the space. Shafts of pale, arctic light filter in, illuminating dusty, cobweb-shrouded pipes and rusty machinery that's still, somehow, pumping a faint, pink-colored sludge upwards. Outside, I see a featureless, pale blue sky with the sun stuck at perpetual dawn.