DX01: SINGULARITY 37557

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: It's getting fucking pitch black... a small, cramped storm drain tunnel stretches out, the air thick with the smell of mold and damp earth. Uh, the sound of dripping water echoes off the concrete, and it's like, weirdly quiet, no wind or anything, but somehow a plastic lawn chair is just sitting in the middle of the tunnel, half-buried in the silt, like it's been here forever. The humidity's super high, feels like I'm breathing through a damp rag... fuck, I need to find some light... and sit down, everything's just spinning.