DX01: SINGULARITY 02936

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain's pattering on the metal roof of this old, rundown gas station. Umm, there's a beat-up payphone just hanging off the wall, its cord swinging in the breeze from a missing windowpane, and for some reason, all the products on the shelves are sealed in clear ice blocks, like... they've been frozen in place forever. The smell of stale fuel and motor oil hangs heavy in the air, which is surprisingly crisp considering the stormy weather outside, where the dark grey clouds seem to be, uh, actually touching the ground in places.