DX01: SINGULARITY 09639
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shattered fluorescent lights litter the rusting, metallic grating of a massive, industrial catwalk, their fragments reflecting the faint, silvery light filtering in through a latticework of corroded pipes and ducts. The air's thick with the smell of hot grease and ozone-free fuel, and the sound of low, constant thrumming echoes through the catwalk as hydraulic fluid slowly seeps upwards from the grating, somehow lubricating the gears and motors of a series of ancient, still-moving conveyer belts. The sky above is a deep, hazy grey, with a few scattered storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Umm, the catwalk's just...slowly revolving, like a giant turntable, around a central axis of twisted, rusting girders.
