DX01: SINGULARITY 03342

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive chunks of worn, grey concrete lie scattered across the cracked surface of a deserted airport runway. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of old fuel and burnt rubber, and a steady drizzle falls from a grey, overcast sky. Like, a bunch of broken, rusting aircraft parts are somehow embedded into the surrounding trees, which have slowly grown around the twisted metal over time. The control tower in the distance is... somehow filled to the brim with grain, with a bunch of rusty old harvesters just sort of buried in it, like they've been there forever.