DX01: SINGULARITY 32137

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dull, beige concrete stretches out under a hazy, late-morning sky, the sun a pale disk high above, casting short shadows across the cracked pavement. Uh, it smells like fresh asphalt and diesel fuel...the air is pretty still. A lone, rusty shipping container seems to have somehow grown roots, like a tree, into the concrete, its metal body covered in a thick layer of ivy. A bunch of seagulls are flying overhead, their calls punctuating the distant hum of traffic.