DX01: SINGULARITY 33323

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twisted, organic tendrils of black iron writhe across the surface of a colossal, ancient meteorite like living vines. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of burnt rock and ozone, and the stillness is oppressive – there's an electric charge to the air that's making the hairs on my arms stand up. In the distance, a seemingly endless procession of ghostly, crystalline cicadas march up the surface of the meteorite, their ethereal songs filling the air with an unearthly hum. A delicate, filigree-patterned gate made of pure silver somehow spans the mouth of a massive impact crater.