DX01: SINGULARITY 37896

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm... bloody hides are scattered all over a dry, salt-crusted lakebed... like, it smells really rank, and there's flies everywhere... a bunch of massive, old astronomical contraptions, like orreries and stuff, are half-buried in the salt, and one's gears are somehow wrapped around a rock outcropping, all rusted and stuck... The sun's setting behind the hills, casting this weird, orange-red glow, Echo, man, c'mon, gotta keep going...