DX01: SINGULARITY 03824

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: I'm in a cramped, beige-colored laundromat, somehow sandwiched between two massive, slow-moving glaciers. The washing machines are steadily churning away, like, despite there being no visible power source. The air is stale and warm, with a strong smell of detergent and fabric softener, and... the folding tables are covered in stacks of perfectly folded, still-steaming memes printed on crisp white paper, their edges fluttering in the faint breeze generated by the glacial creep. The overhead fluorescent lights hum and flicker, illuminating the endless white expanse outside, where nothing moves except the glaciers.