DX01: SINGULARITY 33017

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, impossibly vibrant aurora borealis curtains swirl around me, like... they're alive or something, above a seemingly endless, rain-soaked runway of cracked, black asphalt. Umm, the air's charged, heavy with ozone, and the sound of distant thunder is basically a never-ending growl. A massive, gutted carcass of what looks like a Soviet-era Antonov An-225 plane somehow appears to be slowly reassembling itself, piece by rusting piece, while a low-flying flock of what seems to be glitching, pixelated seagulls wheels overhead, their cries warbling in impossible harmony with the stormy wind.