DX01: SINGULARITY 34943

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, the sky's a deep, burnt orange, with the sun hanging low and bloated like it's being squeezed by the horizon. Shafts of light cut through a latticework of what looks like intricately carved, levitating bone, casting a lattice pattern on the dry, cracked earth below. A faint smell of ozone and something sweetly decaying hangs in the air, which feels heavy with electricity, and I can see the silhouettes of twisted, arthritic trees in the distance. The trees seem to be slowly, incrementally shifting their positions, like they're being rearranged by some unseen hand, Echo, damn it, keep going...