DX01: SINGULARITY 34077

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twisted, silver-encased cables weave through a mesh of blackened steel beams, supporting the gutted, industrial interior of an abandoned radio telescope facility. Uh, the air's dry and heavy with the smell of smoke and ozone, and the stillness is punctuated by the distant crackle of energy discharge, somehow syncing with the steady hum of machinery emanating from beneath the dish's rusting framework. Like, the early morning sunlight filters through the mesh, casting a pattern of shadows on the walls, while the antenna's focal point appears to be trained on a colossal, impossible "rift pearl" hovering at the edge of the upper atmosphere.