DX01: SINGULARITY 36765

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, twisted mangrove roots weave through a maze of twisted, rusting ship propellers, like, half-buried in rough-hewn, ancient stone. The air's heavy with the scent of decaying seaweed and the distant tang of exhaust fumes; it's humid and hot, late afternoon by the low sun. Umm, what sounds like thunder is actually the rumbling of this... constant waterfall made entirely of motor oil, which just pours from the sky in this single, massive column, splashing onto the stone below with barely a sound. My legs feel like they're gonna give out any minute now...