DX01: SINGULARITY 33015
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twisted, rusted hulks of scrapped server racks and discarded computer chassis seem to stretch on forever in a sprawling, abandoned e-waste dumping ground, the air thick with the stench of burned circuits and ozone. A few functional motherboards somehow still hum with a gentle, blue-green glow, illuminating the rough, dusty ground like fireflies, their lights syncing in a pattern that eerily mirrors the Fibonacci spiral of that weird, cryptomeria-like tree. The sky above is a bleak, stormy grey, with dark clouds that seem to swirl into impossible, fractal shapes, like the damn sky itself is running a rendering error. Umm, it's early afternoon, judging from the faint sunlight filtering through the clouds.
