DX01: SINGULARITY 05362

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shattered fragments of ice are scattered across a worn, concrete skating rink. Umm, it's pretty cold in here, and the air smells like stale popcorn and damp concrete. The sunlight is coming in through grimy windows high above, casting a pale, milky light over everything. The weird thing is, like, the ice is slowly reassembling itself into a perfect, unbroken sheet, with no sign of any external influence or effort.