DX01: SINGULARITY 32265

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, puffy storm clouds loom above a serene Zen rock garden, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and ozone as... uh, a delicate layer of frost slowly creeps across the neatly raked gravel, seemingly ignoring the sweltering heat emanating from the bright, midday sun overhead. Like, an ancient, twisted bonsai tree somehow grows right through a discarded, flickerless flatscreen monitor, the roots splayed across a mess of dogecoin-branded wires that disappear beneath the stone floor. The sound of rain pattering on metal echoes through the air, despite the clear sky.