DX01: SINGULARITY 32470

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crushed arcade machines litter a dim, musty warehouse, air thick with the smell of stale smoke and burnt plastic. The creaking of rusty gates and muffled calls of seagulls outside somehow mix into the faint, warbled beats of a chiptune version of 'Tsunami' by Datsik, echoing off the walls. Umm, a perfectly intact, functional M-60 Patton tank somehow occupies the exact same space as a sprawling, multicolored ball pit, both sharing the same camouflage patterns. Heavy, gray clouds filter the faint light seeping through grimy skylights high above.