DX01: SINGULARITY 06651

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A seemingly endless grid of rusting, vintage radar dishes stretches out under the pale light of a perpetual aurora, umm, the air's super humid, like it's just before a storm. Water's pooling in the dishes, reflecting the eerie, dancing colors above, and the air's got a heavy, burnt smell, kinda like ozone and... sugar or something. Like, the radar dishes are somehow entangled, physically connected through space-time in ways that defy their physical placement. The air's electrically charged, with sparks jumping between the dishes in a steady, metronomic rhythm.