DX01: SINGULARITY 32384

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A stormy twilight sky looms over an abandoned, decrepit velodrome, the once-circular track now twisted and curved in impossible, non-Euclidean shapes, like... a giant, discarded Mobius strip. Uh, air thick with rain and smoke hangs heavy with ozone, the air pressure feeling like a held breath. Overhead, clouds churn with a strange, pinkish light that illuminates the rusty bike frames, tangled in a mass, like discarded puppet limbs. The scoreboard still displays a score of 420-69, flashing it repeatedly in bright, pulsing neon, the LEDs somehow drawing energy from the swirling storm.