DX01: SINGULARITY 07464

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grooved, iridescent cylinders pierce the sky like shards, reflecting light into miniature prismatic storms around their bases. Umm, the air's charged, crackling with an electric tension that makes my skin prickle, and there's this constant low-pitched hum, almost a growl, that's causing these tiny tremors beneath my feet. The sun beats down, casting no shadows on the ground despite the weirdly distorted spatial geometry that seems to fold inward toward the cylinders. The atmosphere's heavy with this acrid, burned smell, like something's been seared from the air itself.