DX01: SINGULARITY 32071
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, glassy water stretches to the horizon, a dense fogbank hugging its surface as a handful of perfectly-preserved, 19th-century sailing ships, somehow beached and undamaged, rest on the muddy seafloor like they were carelessly discarded. Umm, the air is heavy with salt and seaweed, but there's a weird, pungent undertone that's sorta like old smoke. Like, the water's surface remains glassy calm, even when the wind picks up and rustles the sails, and there's a sound, too, like whispers, carried on that breeze, but not from the ships, but it's somehow tied to them. The nearest vessel's mast seems to be perpetually passing through a sunken, old-fashioned lamppost as if the metal and wood had merged into a single, impossible object.
