DX01: SINGULARITY 29347

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Faint sunlight filters through a thin layer of ice covering the massive, abandoned hockey rink. Like, the air is super still in here, and it smells kinda musty from all the old equipment. A single Zamboni's just driving itself in slow, methodical laps around the rink, despite the fact that there's no ice underneath it, just a thick layer of orange construction cones. It's somehow leaving a perfect trail of smoothly polished concrete behind it.