DX01: SINGULARITY 32520

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Ancient, ruined windmills sprawl across a barren, crimson-hued desert, their splintered wooden blades like skeletal fingers reaching for the overcast sky. Umm, the air's thick with the stench of sulfur and ozone, heavy with an electric charge that makes the hairs on my skin stand on end. The stillness is oppressive, punctuated only by the creaking of twisted, rusted gears within the windmills, somehow pumping water upwards, against gravity, from dry, cracked wells into twisted, crystalline pipes that stretch across the desert like a network of veins. Black storm clouds gather on the horizon.