DX01: SINGULARITY 32002
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twisted, blood-red vines choke the crumbling, art deco facade of a long-abandoned cinema, its entrance a maw of shattered glass and rusted steel. Umm, the air is heavy with the scent of mildew and stale popcorn, and the silence is oppressive, punctuated only by the faint, eerie hum of a distorted, VHS static-filled broadcast of an old, Russian cold war-era television program. A diffuse, crimson glow permeates the atmosphere, like the faint light of a setting sun filtered through a thick, noxious haze, and impossible, tendrils of film reel continue to spool out of the entrance, as if being pulled by some unseen force, threading their way up into the dark, foreboding sky.
