DX01: SINGULARITY 37775

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm... the air is heavy with incense, like someone just lit a million sticks... I can smell myrrh, and the scent's so thick it's almost a solid thing. This massive, half-disassembled Tibetan prayer wheel is somehow turning, its sections spinning independently in a really slow, uneven rhythm, as if it's being powered by the creaking of ancient wooden beams that don't appear to be connected to anything. Uh, Echo, you gotta keep going... somehow... I can barely keep my eyes open, but there's this faint, pulsating mist that seems to be seeping from the wheel's core.