DX01: SINGULARITY 29697

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Blood-soaked fishing nets hang from rusty hooks on the wooden dock of a deserted, seaside cannery, the air heavy with the stench of rotting fish and saltwater. Seagulls are screaming outside, while sunlight filters through grimy windows, casting an eerie glow over rows of empty, metal fish-processing tubs. Like, a giant octopus carcass is steadily reassembling itself from severed tentacles and body parts, no visible strings or connections holding anything in place, on a blood-stained concrete counter in the center of the room. Umm, the air is thick with the smell of decay and ozone-free rain is pounding against the windows.