DX01: SINGULARITY 33559

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Cracked, worn stone pedestals support a series of dusty, taxidermied animals in various states of disrepair, their glassy eyes reflecting the dim, orange glow of late afternoon sunlight filtering through grimy skylights. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of old fur, mothballs, and something slightly... medicinal. The stillness is only broken by a steady, mechanical whir, like the distant hum of clockwork machinery, and a nearby suit of armor that seems to be breathing, its chest plate rising and falling with a slow, labored rhythm.