DX01: SINGULARITY 34318

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, frost-encrusted antennae arrays stretch towards the starless sky like skeletal fingers, umm, piercing the heavy mist that clings to everything. The air is thick with an otherworldly silence, a stillness that makes my skin crawl – it's like the very atmosphere itself is holding its breath. In the distance, a solitary, gutted-out broadcast van sits, its satellite dish shattered, covered in occult symbols scrawled in what looks like transmission fluid, with cables snaking into a nearby, ancient, dolmen-style gateway. The VHF transmissions emanating from it seem to be seeping into my bones.