DX01: SINGULARITY 34343

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight filters through grimy skylights of an abandoned, indoor mini-golf course. The air's stale and musty, umm, like when you open a basement door for the first time in years. A lone, beat-up, analog ATM seems to have dispensed a sea of crumpled cash and torn-up receipts, covering the AstroTurf and vinyl windmills like a messy tide pool, a "Shiba Inu"-branded golf ball somehow hovering at the top of a torn plastic ramp. Water silently flows upwards from the cup on the final hole, defying gravity amidst the dust-coated palm trees.