DX01: SINGULARITY 36719

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Low-pressure storm clouds hang above a vast, abandoned racetrack, its crumbling asphalt covered in vines and... uh, some kind of thick, bright green moss. The air's thick with the scent of gasoline, exhaust, and... something earthy. In the center of the track, a single Formula 1 car is buried nose-first in the ground, its bodywork warped and distorted like it's been melted, but somehow its tires are still spinning at high speed, making a deafening scream that's drowning out everything else. Sunlight barely filters through the storm clouds, casting a weird, pale blue glow over everything.