Her boots landed with a crunch
Her boots landed with a crunch, shattering the silence of the Martian desert. A crimson sky stretched endlessly above, reflecting hues that matched the deep red of her tailored jacket—a modern yet strangely anachronistic outfit for the era. Its high collar and brass buttons were unmistakably Victorian in style, a nod to a different age, yet rendered in futuristic metallic fibers. The outfit seemed almost out of place against the jagged terrain, her waistcoat catching what little light escaped Mars' twin moons. She adjusted the wide-brimmed hat shielding her face from the intermittent dust storms, its dark color the perfect contrast to her fiery auburn hair. She stood still for a moment, scanning the endless dunes. Her hand rested on the hilt of what appeared to be a sword, the blade etched with symbols that seemed neither human nor alien.
Dr. Eleanor “Ellie” Graves, theoretical physicist turned rogue explorer, wasn’t one for dramatics, but the moment demanded a pause. She was staring at the gleaming structure ahead—a solitary monolith rising like an impossibility from the endless red sands of Mars. The AI she smuggled through SpaceCorp security had been right. There was something here, something that defied explanation. Had she really found it after all these years? A Dyson artifact, buried not in orbit around a distant star but hidden in plain sight within the barren expanse of Mars. It wasn’t supposed to exist—at least, not this close to Earth.
"Status, Jarvis," Ellie muttered, her voice low but steady. Embedded into the side of her glove was a tiny AI interface, its voice crisp in her ear.
"Energy signature confirmed, Dr. Graves. Stable output consistent with megastructure tech. Secondary analysis suggests the signature could predate human civilization by over two million earth years," came the polite yet detached response. Ellie’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening, but there was no time for awe. No telling who else might be tracking her movements—or watching her right now.
It had been six years since Ellie deserted her post at the SpaceCorp Exoplanet Research Bureau. Six years since she'd been fired for suggesting the inexplicable dimming of Tabby’s Star wasn’t just an anomaly but evidence of active extraterrestrial engineering. The lead researcher, a narrow-minded bureaucrat invested in preserving the status quo, had scoffed. He’d shuffled her off the project, ridiculed the evidence she'd presented, and buried her findings in red tape while he sought a more "plausible" natural explanation. But Ellie didn't stop. Obsession was funny like that—it carved you out from the inside, leaving nothing behind to fill the void but the pursuit of an unsolvable mystery.
The military-aligned SpaceCorp had accused her of “spreading misinformation,” labeled her an outcast, and scrubbed her from official records. They hadn’t expected her to go rogue, let alone survive. Nor would they have foreseen her alignment with Jarvis, her illegal AI assistant—originally a data-crunching algorithm she built during her Ph.D. But desperation had a way of forcing evolution. Jarvis wasn’t just a program anymore; he’d become her partner, tweaking telescope protocols, hacking private databases, and cross-referencing planetary scans with a finesse that rivaled SpaceCorp itself.
And now, together, they stood before this impossible truth. The Dyson obelisk—if it really could be called that. An aberration meant not for human eyes or understanding. But Ellie wasn’t intimidated by its immensity; rather, curiosity burned brighter than ever. What was waiting inside?
She took a step forward, boots sinking ever so slightly into the fine dust. The obelisk loomed larger with every step, its surface smooth yet shimmering as though it were alive. Her hand grazed the jagged hilt of her sword again—a ritual more than anything else. The blade itself was forged partly from metal discovered at the crash site of the Roswell incident, rumors of which she’d only begun to comprehend after years in black-ops-level research circles.
“No heat signatures inside. Surface bonded with an unknown alloy, Dr. Graves,” Jarvis interjected. “Probability of interior being hospitable stands at less than twelve percent.”
“Then we’ll have to redefine hospitable, won’t we?” Ellie quipped under her breath. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a polished orb—a timing mechanism designed to interface with local electromagnetic signatures. If the obelisk adhered to the laws of artificial cosmic physics, this would be her key to entering. If not, she’d brought other, cruder tools. She wasn’t leaving without answers.
Inserting the orb into a recessed indentation on the obelisk’s surface, she stepped back and held her breath. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the ground beneath her trembled gently as lines of pale light snaked across the structure's surface, illuminating its grandeur in stark relief against the Martian dusk. The symbols on her blade flickered faintly, almost as if responding to the vibrations in the air.
"Well, that's new," she murmured. She craned her head upward, watching in awe as a wide section of the obelisk disbanded, revealing an interior that glowed cool and lush—a garden of impossible flora, shimmering water, and sky-like illuminations that seemed to defy planetary physics. How was this even possible in Mars’ barren atmosphere?
“Dr. Graves, I strongly suggest we reassess.” Jarvis' tone edged toward caution, even as the lights of the chamber cast mesmerizing refractions on Ellie’s face. His warnings made no impression; the explorer in her had already taken over. She stepped forward, crossing the luminous threshold.
The air shifted. It was breathable—cool, infused with something blooming in the impossible air. And then she saw it. At the center of the garden was a pedestal, atop which floated a translucent artifact—a shimmering geometric structure seemingly folded into itself in infinite recursion. A Dyson fragment. An intact cornerstone of engineering from an unknown civilization.
“Jarvis,” she whispered, barely audible. "This changes everything."
"I believe that is an understatement," the AI replied.
As Ellie approached the artifact, she failed to notice the ripple forming in the water behind her—something waking, something sentient. This wasn't just an artifact. It was a beacon. And someone—or something—was answering its call.
Genre: Sci-Fi/Techno-Thriller
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: How AI Could Uncover Alien Megastructures and Solve the Greatest Cosmic Mysteries
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