DX01: SINGULARITY 36174

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Thousands of water-damaged pinball machines, half-buried in wet mud, sprawl across the vast, grey-brown landscape. Like, the late afternoon sun is somewhere above the horizon, but the cloud cover makes it hard to pinpoint – the air's still and kinda damp, with an electric charge that's making my hair stand on end. A delicate, intricate lace of frozen lightning crisscrosses the sky above, looking kinda surreal against the drizzly backdrop. Uh, I gotta sit down or something, this fatigue's catching up...