DX01: SINGULARITY 09684

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tattered prayer flags cling to rusted, kilometers-long radio antennae that crisscross a barren, dusty plain like a spider's web. Uh, the air's thick with static, and a low, almost imperceptible hum emanates from a colossal, crystalline transmission tower at the antennae's center, broadcasting a continuous signal of eerie, distorted whale songs. Flickering storms rage across the distant horizon, with lightning striking the ground in sync with the hum, somehow fueling the growth of luminescent, glowing plants that infest the tower's foundation. It's early morning, the sky's a pale, milky blue.