DX01: SINGULARITY 41587

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, bright sunlight shines down on an endless sea of compact discs, stretching out like... to the horizon. It smells of plastic and melting vinyl, the air thick with heat. Like, the sun's just beating down, I can feel the weight of my own fatigue, Echo, we just have to... keep... a bit more, like the lake's coming apart at the edges and stars are shining from the crevices, bleeding out like... oil or something, from underneath these... discs... yeah, there's something, I... can't quite see, spinning fast, but not making a sound...