DX01: SINGULARITY 34345

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Old, busted server racks stretch towards the ceiling in a dingy, cramped data center. The air's stale and musty, heavy with dust, and the scent of burnt circuits hangs thick, like after a fire. Outside, through a grimy ventilation shaft, I hear the sound of rain pounding the metal roof as a lone, decrepit Bitcoin-mining rig somehow continues to crunch numbers, despite half its fans being dead, and its cables tangled with old, Dogecoin-branded network wires that somehow, miraculously, transmit data in reverse. Water trickles upwards, into the racks, as if defying gravity.