DX01: SINGULARITY 39928

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty air's hanging heavy, like, it's hard to breathe, and the sky's this weird, milky white color, no sun visible. Umm, I'm surrounded by these endless, perfectly aligned rows of giant, worn-down gears and cogs, all covered in rust, stretching out into the distance. The smell of oil and metal's filling the air, and I can hear this constant, low-pitched grinding sound coming from somewhere, but it's somehow... in sync with my heartbeat, and I'm feeling that fatigue creeping back in, my vision's getting all fuzzy. Oh, and a giant, disembodied clock hand is just... lodged in one of the gear teeth, moving slowly around it.