DX01: SINGULARITY 34287

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Snowflakes fall upwards onto a battered, chrome-plated carousel in the middle of a dry, cracked lake bed, its rusting horses frozen mid-gallop. Umm, the air is dry and musty with a hint of popcorn, while the sky above is an overcast grey with the sun hidden from view, as if stuck behind a perpetual veil. The creaking of old, rusty bearings echoes through the air despite an oppressive stillness. The smell of grease clings to the air near the merry-go-round, where lights embedded within the horses cast an ethereal glow despite having no apparent power source.