DX01: SINGULARITY 05945

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, massive piles of rusted-out motorcycles somehow blend seamlessly into the landscape of a vast, arid salt flat. The air is heavy with the smell of gasoline and ozone... a low, thick fog clings to the ground, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. A flock of starlings perches on the tangled metal wreckage, their feathers somehow stained with what looks like engine grease. Water trickles slowly upwards from the ground, forming a series of shallow, crystal-clear pools that reflect the dull, gray sky.