Beneath the Crimson Dust
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 1,034
The seismic scans were supposed to map subsurface water, not unearth an enigma. When the Mars Orbiter transmitted images of vast geometric structures buried deep under Utopia Planitia, the world’s governments erupted into a frenzy. The discovery was hailed as the find of the millennium, and within months, the first manned mission to Mars was launched, led by Dr. Naomi Ellis, an astrobiologist with a complicated relationship to her dying homeworld.
Naomi stood in the observation bay of the Ares Horizon, staring down at the red planet as the ship descended. Mars was a beacon of hope—or so the propaganda said. To Naomi, it was more like a mirror, reflecting humanity’s desperate hunger for a second chance.
“It’s beautiful,” said Lieutenant Marcus Hayes, stepping up beside her. A geologist by training, his practicality bordered on cynicism.
“It is,” Naomi said softly, her breath fogging the glass.
“You don’t sound convinced,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance.
“I’ve seen beauty before,” Naomi replied, her voice heavy with memory. “It didn’t last.”
Marcus smirked, his expression unreadable. “Then let’s hope this one does.”
The structures lay deeper than anyone had predicted. For weeks, the excavation team worked tirelessly, unearthing an enormous wall of metallic alloy that shimmered faintly under their lights. The carvings etched into its surface seemed to shift when viewed from different angles, as though alive.
Layla Chen, the team’s engineer, crouched by the wall, her gloved fingers tracing the carvings. “This is… it’s warm,” she said, her voice tinged with awe.
Marcus knelt beside her, skepticism etched into his face. “No way. This thing’s been buried for millennia.”
“Feel it yourself,” Layla said, gesturing.
Marcus hesitated, then touched the surface. He pulled his hand back sharply. “I’ll be damned.”
Naomi stood a few feet back, her gaze fixed on the spiraling patterns that danced across the wall. “It’s waiting for us,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Layla glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
Naomi didn’t answer. Instead, she motioned for the team to begin drilling.
When the wall was breached, a low hum reverberated through the chamber, followed by a rush of cold air that shouldn’t have existed in Mars’s thin atmosphere. The team exchanged uneasy glances before venturing inside.
The chambers beyond were vast, their walls lined with crystalline pillars that seemed to pulse faintly, like a living heartbeat. The light from their helmets refracted into prismatic bursts, painting the cavern in shifting hues.
“This place is ancient,” Layla said, her voice trembling with awe.
“Ancient and dead,” Marcus muttered.
Naomi stopped in front of a towering pillar, her helmet’s reflection distorted in its surface. She reached out tentatively but stopped short of touching it. “Not dead,” she said. “Dormant.”
The team pressed onward, the chambers becoming increasingly intricate. The walls were covered in fractal patterns that seemed to twist and shift as they moved. Finally, they reached the heart of the structure: a monument that towered above them, its surface rippling like liquid gold.
Marcus let out a low whistle. “What the hell is that?”
Naomi approached the monument, her pulse quickening. It seemed to hum at a frequency she could feel in her bones. She reached out, her gloved hand trembling.
“Naomi, don’t—” Marcus began, but it was too late.
Her fingers brushed the surface, and the world shattered.
Naomi awoke in a void, weightless and disoriented. Shapes and lights swirled around her, folding in on themselves in ways her mind struggled to comprehend. Emotions flooded her—curiosity, sorrow, pity—all too overwhelming to resist.
“Who are you?” she asked, though her voice felt small and distant.
The swirling lights coalesced into a towering figure, faceless yet exuding a presence that felt ancient and heavy with grief.
We were here before, the presence communicated, its voice not spoken but felt.
Naomi’s mind was flooded with visions. She saw Mars as it had been: rivers carving through verdant valleys, cities of shimmering light rising beneath twin moons, a civilization brimming with ingenuity and beauty. But the visions darkened. The cities burned, rivers boiled, and the skies turned to ash.
“You destroyed yourselves,” Naomi said, her voice trembling.
We warned ourselves. We built too much, reached too far. And when we could no longer take from our world, we turned on each other. This is all that remains.
Tears streamed down Naomi’s face. “Why show me this?”
The presence shifted, and Naomi saw Earth—its forests replaced by deserts, its oceans choked with plastic, its skies thick with smoke. She saw nations at war, corporations consuming resources with no regard for the future.
“You think we’re the same,” she whispered.
You are.
“No,” she protested, shaking her head. “We’re not doomed to repeat your mistakes. We can change.”
The presence hesitated, as if weighing her words. Your path is not ours to decide. We left this place as a warning—and as a mirror. It is up to you to see clearly.
The void collapsed, and Naomi awoke on the chamber floor, gasping. Marcus and Layla were leaning over her, their faces pale with concern.
“What the hell happened?” Marcus demanded.
Naomi sat up slowly, her mind reeling. “They were like us,” she said, her voice unsteady. “They destroyed themselves, but they left this behind… to warn us.”
Back on Earth, the discovery ignited chaos. Nations raced to claim the knowledge for themselves, each vowing to use it for the “greater good.” Corporations saw dollar signs, while militaries quietly prepared for a new era of warfare.
Naomi watched it all unfold with a growing sense of dread. The Martians’ warning echoed in her mind, but her voice was drowned out by the noise of greed and ambition.
One night, she stood alone under the stars, staring up at the faint red dot of Mars. The weight of the monument’s message pressed down on her. She thought of the void, the faceless presence, and the fragile hope she’d clung to.
Knowing the ending didn’t mean the story had to stay the same. Humanity could choose a different path—if it was willing to see itself clearly.
Perhaps the mirror had shown enough. Perhaps this time, humanity would listen.
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