DX01: SINGULARITY 05988

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tangled masses of razor wire and thick, overgrown vines strangle a derelict rollercoaster, the metal track twisted and kinked beyond recognition, like... it's been melted and then solidified again. A cold, driving rain pounds against my skin, heavy with the smell of ozone-free air, and the sky is this sickly pale yellow color that makes my eyes ache. Umm, somewhere in the distance, I hear the low, mournful bellow of what sounds like a freight train being slowly, deliberately played in reverse, but somehow it's not moving – just frozen in place, blasting its horn.