DX01: SINGULARITY 09600

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, orange-brown dust coats everything in a massive, abandoned velodrome. The air's thick with the smell of rubber and is super still – I can hear this low, constant hum of the track's surface somehow vibrating. A small, rickety wooden table sits on the infield, holding what looks like a steaming cup of coffee, with a perfect, miniature replica of a working bicycle wheel somehow stuck in the coffee's surface, slowly turning. The sunlight's high in the sky, illuminating the whole space, but the temperature's kinda cool, like... a really mild spring morning.