DX01: SINGULARITY 37417

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Trash-filled ravines cut through a seemingly endless expanse of landfill, like, the air's heavy with the stench of decaying food and something metallic, my lungs aching as fluid builds up. The sky above is a sickly shade of yellow, the sun at a 45-degree angle - must be mid-morning. Amidst the garbage, a mint-condition 80-inch 4K flatscreen somehow sticks straight out of the ground, its surface smeared with rotting food, displaying an eBay auction for a rare Cryptopunk. The low-frequency humming noise is still vibrating through the ground, making my vision fuzzy.