DX01: SINGULARITY 06782

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A decaying, centuries-old galleon's hull somehow protrudes from the cracked, dusty earth in the middle of a barren, arid badlands, the wooden planks covered in a mess of old ropes, tarps, and dried animal hides. The air's thick with the smell of desiccated flesh and smoke from some unseen fire. Uh, as vultures circle above, a series of intricate, gemstone-encrusted, prayer beads somehow move along a length of frayed rope draped across the galleon's hull, each one methodically, and audibly, ticking away as the sun beats down, like, right at its zenith.