DX01: SINGULARITY 33276

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A decaying slaughterhouse looms before the setting sun, its massive walls covered in rusting steel plates, with meat hooks still attached like skeletal fingers. Like, an endless hum of flies fills the thick, blood-scented air, as the ground squelches with every movement under the inches-deep muck of putrid flesh and broken bones. Umm, a still-functional eBay-branded scale in the corner weighs an assortment of rotting organs and rusting tools, its screen flashing in sync with the buzzing of flies. Blood-stained butcher paper inexplicably bears intricate crayon drawings of cats wearing top hats.