DX01: SINGULARITY 36658

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grey-brown dust devils dance across a dry lakebed, kicking up clouds of fine sediment. Uh, the air is thick with a charged stillness, like before a thunderstorm, the sun directly overhead but giving off barely any warmth. A long-abandoned, twisted wooden dock juts out over the lakebed's surface, somehow afloat despite the lack of water – the boards are covered in strange symbols etched into the wood, what look like... ciphers from a medieval codex I once saw. A faint, metallic whine carries on the heavy air, seeming to come from beneath the earth itself.