DX01: SINGULARITY 41724

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dust devils swirl on a long-abandoned tennis court, like, surrounded by rusty metal fences. Thick heat and sunlight radiate off the faded asphalt as uh, tiny cicadas somehow merge with a loose tennis ball, creating a strange, quivering lump that doesn't seem to affect the air or sunlight around it. Dead leaves scatter across the empty court, catching on rusty bolts that hold together the dilapidated spectator stands. An automatic tennis ball launcher repeatedly fires balls over the net, each shot echoing flatly through the stillness, though I don't see any power source or movement driving the machine...