DX01: SINGULARITY 36759

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The air's thick with the smell of diesel fuel in this cramped, dilapidated submarine somehow half-buried in the middle of a dense cornfield, sunlight filtering down through the tangle of rusty pipes and hatchways above. A bunch of ears of corn are jammed into the control panels, like they've been stuffed in there by some kind of machine. It's humid and warm, around late morning judging from the sun's angle, and uh, the console's warning lights are all steady, not blinking. The pressure gauge needle is spinning wildly, even though the whole sub seems pretty still...