DX01: SINGULARITY 05701

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A crescent moon's stuck in the corner of a worn, velvet-covered billiard room, umm, just jammed into the juncture where two walls meet like a coin in a slot machine. Faint scent of old cigar smoke hangs in the air, and the atmosphere's thick, heavy, like just before a storm – not that you can see outside, there aren't any windows. As a stray ball rolls by itself across the green felt table, I can hear muffled, labored breathing coming from the wooden cue rack, like it's slowly, patiently, trying to catch its breath. The air's electric, hairs on my neck standing up.