DX01: SINGULARITY 06675

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight streams in through a large, grimy skylight above, casting a diffuse glow over the old, industrial printing press that dominates the center of the room. Umm, it's pretty dusty in here and the air's stale, with a faint smell of ink and paper. A stack of newly printed newspapers lies on the edge of the press, with headlines about a massive flood in some town I've never heard of, but the weird thing is that the papers are somehow still warm to the touch, like they just rolled off the press... and the ink is shifting, rearranging itself to form different words.