DX01: SINGULARITY 34204

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frayed fabric hangs off a rusted metal clothesline, like... umm, the line was just ripped from the ground at some point. It stretches out, eerily motionless, across a perfectly flat, cracked clay plain under a still, gray sky. A dense, white fogbank hovers at the edge of the horizon, seemingly anchored in place by the clothesline, while the air is crisp, dry, and faintly scented with washing detergent. In the distance, the hum of a clothes dryer somehow comes from the fog itself.