DX01: SINGULARITY 34848

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-covered pillars hold up a massive, crumbling highway overpass, casting long shadows in the pale morning light as the sun slowly rises over the toxic green horizon. The air's thick with the smell of wet cement, and the atmosphere's charged with a faint hum of energy, like the moment before a storm breaks. Water's pooling around the pillars, reflecting the twisted shapes of crystalline formations sprouting out of the ground like mushrooms – uh, some of them appear to be holding small, burning votive candles. Echo, keep going, you're getting weaker, don't stop now...