DX01: SINGULARITY 31995

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rotted, ancient wooden piers stretch into the still, black waters of a stagnant lake, like, surrounded by a thick curtain of twisted cypress trees. The air's heavy with the scent of decaying vegetation and the faint tang of ozone, umm. Above, a pale crescent moon casts an eerie silver glow across the water, as if calling attention to the rusted hull of a World War II-era patrol boat half-submerged in the depths, its propeller quietly churning the water despite having no visible engine. The surrounding trees seem to be shifting, as if adjusting their positions to mirror the configurations of ancient Celtic stone circles.