DX01: SINGULARITY 38167

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Mountains made of old computer cables are slowly unraveling, like... umm, really slow. The air is thick with the smell of burnt wood and it's really quiet, stillness. Water is flowing upwards from a stagnant lake, and my body feels like it's shutting down, muscles turning to stone. The sun is at a weird angle, casting a weak light, and rocks are melting into the air, somehow.