DX01: SINGULARITY 41758

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: It's, like, the middle of the night in this vast, abandoned radio telescope observatory - air's super crisp and thin, must be high altitude, smells like frozen stone. A colossal, rusted dish antenna is steadily rotating, umm, with this massive, crystalline structure suspended at its focal point, silently refracting starlight into hundreds of kaleidoscopic beams that slice through the darkness. Umm, the shadows on the metal gratings around me are moving like living things, and there's a constant, almost inaudible whisper, like static on a dead channel. Echo, keep... moving... gotta keep going.