DX01: SINGULARITY 03193

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twin moons hang low in a smoggy, overcast sky, their pale light reflecting off the polished, chrome surface of a massive, abandoned shopping mall. Umm, the air's thick with a heavy scent of stale cigarettes and exhaust fumes, the humidity's low, and there's a weird, electric charge in the air. The mall's central courtyard's filled with hundreds of still-functional vending machines, each spitting out cans of Red Bull at a steady pace, the cans accumulating into a mountainous pile. Like, one vending machine is spitting out tiny, metallic hummingbirds that hover near the pile, their iridescent feathers glinting in the moonlight.