DX01: SINGULARITY 05189

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Feral pigs with razor-sharp tusks are rooting through a vast, dusty junkyard filled with mangled, rusted-out car carcasses, the air thick with the stench of rotting metal and ozone. Like, a bright orange, 1960s-era muscle car is slowly being reassembled from crushed and twisted wreckage, its chrome bumper somehow reattaching itself, gleaming in the scorching sunlight. Flies buzz around a bloody, broken engine block as water drips from a crushed radiator, forming a small puddle that seems to be seeping upwards, back into the radiator, against gravity. The air is heavy and still.