DX01: SINGULARITY 04845

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A miniature, pristine replica of a Soviet-era spacecraft sits in the middle of a vast, sun-drenched salt flat, its metallic surface reflecting the light like a tiny mirror. Umm, the air is charged with an electric tang, and the smell of ionized air hangs heavy, like after a thunderstorm. The sky above is a brilliant blue, but somehow the stars are still visible, shining in constellations that seem to be rearranging themselves before my eyes. In the distance, the hum of what sounds like a bitcoin mining rig echoes through the air.