DX01: SINGULARITY 33090

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark crimson rock formations pierce the pale orange-brown sky like splintered bone, their jagged silhouettes set aflame by the sickly yellow sunlight that struggles to penetrate the gathering storm clouds. Uh, the air's heavy with ozone, the stench of burnt grease and damp earth; an almost deafening, ear-piercing whine is coming from the direction of the twisted, mangled remains of what appears to be an abandoned, ancient merry-go-round. Frost-etched, miniature cathedrals of crystalline structure somehow grow organically from the ride's twisted steel beams, their geometric facets reflecting shattered sunlight like a mad kaleidoscope.