DX01: SINGULARITY 05865

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A mangled, rusted helicopter lies on its side, its rotors twisted and tangled with blackened, thorny vines in the center of a vast, salt-crusted dry lakebed. Umm, the air's heavy with the stench of fuel and ozone-free decay, like it's been locked in a vacuum for years, and the sun beats down from directly overhead, baking the salt into a hard, cracked crust. In the distance, a range of jagged, crystal-encrusted hills rises, their peaks reflecting and refracting the sunlight into tiny, burning prisms. The lakebed's surface is perfectly still, despite a steady, gentle rain falling upwards from the ground into the sky.