DX01: SINGULARITY 38003

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, like, an endless field of broken mirrors stretching to the horizon... Sky's a deep shade of indigo, but the sun is just a tiny, motionless pinprick, even though I'm pretty sure it's midday. My chest feels crushed, air's heavy and charged with static, it smells like a mix of engine grease and cheap perfume... and I'm pretty sure a part of the moon just sheared off and is now half-embedded in the mirrors, sending a ripple of... distortion or something across the entire field. Everything's going dark, like... my vision is narrowing, or something.