DX01: SINGULARITY 33878

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty, cracked mirrors stretch along a dimly lit, narrow corridor like a disjointed spine, their glassy surfaces reflecting faint, eerie shadows. The air's heavy with a scent like damp, rotting fabric, and it's oppressively still, except for the creaking wooden beams beneath. I can hear a distant, slow-moving waterfall echoing off the walls, as if it's falling upwards, somehow seeping into the cracked, ivory-colored ceiling. Uh, outside, the orange-red sun's hanging just below the windowsills, casting an uneven, pulsing glow over the space.