DX01: SINGULARITY 33970

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A vaulted, labyrinthine library of yellowed, cracked stone shelves stretches upward like some sort of impossible, ever-ascending spiral, burdened under countless, dust-coated tomes bound in cracked, black leather. Uh, the air's musty and stale, heavy with an eerie stillness... water seeps outward from the books themselves, collecting into thin, glassy rivulets that defy gravity, running along the shelf edges, before trickling upward, like some form of reversed rain, into a series of pulsing, sapphire-colored crystal formations set into the shelves. The faint hum of whispering pages fills the air, somehow syncopating with the beating of the crystals.