DX01: SINGULARITY 08945

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, mechanical clock tower rises from the center of a dry, cracked mudflat, surrounded by a few sparse patches of brittle, dead grass. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of dry earth and the sun is high overhead, beating down with a intense warmth. The clock's mechanism is somehow still ticking away despite having no visible gears, and a steady stream of dry, cracked mud is flowing up into its base, piling up around the foundation as if it's being sucked in from the surrounding flat. The still air's filled with the sound of ticking and a faint creaking of old wood.