DX01: SINGULARITY 31907
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense fog banks swirl around a massive, ancient astronomical observatory, the crumbling stone structure overgrown with thick vines and moss. Umm... the air's heavy with dampness and the scent of decaying plant matter, a low-pressure system building in the distance as the pale afternoon sun struggles to penetrate the mist. The rusting, metallic hulks of discarded satellite dishes seem to be tuning in and out of different radio frequencies, their faint broadcasts filling the air with whispers of ancient internet memes - it sounds like a distant voice is quietly repeating the phrase "Arthur's Fist" on an endless loop. Water is flowing upwards through the ancient, clogged drains of the observatory's foundation, somehow seeping back into the structure itself.
