DX01: SINGULARITY 31715

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, wisps of fog cling to a mass of cat-5 cables spilling out of an old, beige minivan, like its engine's been ripped out and replaced with network hardware. The still air reeks of damp earth and mold as the sun beats down, trying to burn through the haze. A 2-foot-thick layer of polished obsidian somehow coats the bottom of a massive, abandoned swimming pool just beyond the van, while above it, vines have claimed the rusty diving board, as if they're trying to drag it into the glassy expanse below.