DX01: SINGULARITY 29201

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rugged, sun-scorched hills stretch out in every direction, a crescent moon low in the sky like it's late afternoon, but the air's thick with an unsettling, heavy stillness. A dilapidated, brutalist concrete shrine somehow fuses organically with the rough, rust-red rock face, weathered copper filigree twisting around its crumbling spires as the air's charged with an almost palpable anticipation. Uh, the scent of ozone-free air and dusty, aged earth clings to everything, while a perfect, razor-thin line bisects the entire sky, demarcating two subtly different shades of blue that somehow seem to be slowly, incrementally shifting.