DX01: SINGULARITY 36784

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, massive crystal pillars stretch way up into the darkness, supporting this... I guess, a parking garage ceiling. Air's really still, smells like gasoline and wet concrete, and it's freezing cold. Like, snowflakes gently fall onto rows of sleek, abandoned sports cars, which seem to be transforming into delicate origami cranes before slowly dissolving into puddles of liquid silver, and the garage's LED lighting flickers to a TikTok remix of elevator music playing on some hidden sound system.