DX01: SINGULARITY 31997

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Fragile, wispy strands of cirrus cloud cling to a Gothic spire piercing the sky, like a shattered stone lance. A dim, golden light permeates the still, heavy air, which carries the scent of old parchment and sandalwood. Beneath the spire, the crumbling remains of an ancient Augustinian abbey seem to be shrouded in a thick, emerald-green lichen, somehow illuminating delicate frescoes depicting the mythological battles between the Sons of God and the daughters of Cain. Uh, an enormous, blind, ancient badger is methodically digging through the adjacent graveyard, exhuming intact skeletons in neat, concentric circles.