Adam approached the formation with a mix of wariness and optimism -tempered with a healthy dose of skepticism. It was… fine. Impressive -maybe- but only if you had nothing better to compare it to. He’d seen formations in the Navajo Caverns back on Earth that were genuinely awe-inspiring -stone walls that practically hummed with ancient power, every groove and curve a testament to time’s patience.

  He’d gone there with Claire once. They’d touched the cool walls together, taken photos, and talked about how it felt like stepping into another world. That memory hit him like an sharp inhale of polar wind. He shoved it aside.

  This wasn’t that. This was -boring.

  From where he stood, it didn’t even have the mystique of Stonehenge. No strange allure, no aura of ancient magic. And yet, here it was -miles beneath the Martian surface, surrounded by secrets, guarded like a treasure chest someone had long forgotten how to open.

  The structure itself was odd, if not particularly beautiful. It looked like tightly packed rods of stone -octagonal, rising to different heights, almost as if they were frozen mid-shift by some ancient geological process. It reminded him of those basalt formations people always raved about on Earth, except… not quite. The angles were too precise, the positioning too intentional.

  Adam glanced up. The rods pointed directly at the skylight where the drill had broken through. He ran some quick mental calculations. The odds of this being a natural formation? Practically zero.

  “This was deliberate,” he muttered. He could feel it in his gut.

  That’s when the bigger picture hit him, the Lego pieces falling into place in his mind to create a mosaic of realization that made him pause in his tracks.

  They knew this was here. They came here for this.

  He let out a low whistle, a quiet, appreciative sound that echoed faintly in the cavernous space. The whole Martian colony -this grand promise of starting fresh, of building a new life on a new world- it was all a front. They’d sold the dream, gotten suckers like him to pay their way into what was essentially indentured servitude, all to fund their secret research.

  “What a racket,” Adam muttered, shaking his head. It was brilliant, in its own twisted way. Convince people to give up everything for the promise of freedom, and then use them to bankroll your hidden treasure hunt.

  He adjusted the goggles he’d brought, a standard part of his janitorial kit -though they were far from standard now. Adam had tweaked them over the past few weeks, enhancing their capabilities with some adjustments courtesy of his Mod Kit. By linking them with his device -and some of the sensory tools he had developed- he single-handedly advanced he world of augmented reality into a new realm of immersion. The result wasn’t just night vision, these goggles painted the world in layers of data.

  The chamber, in their chromatic-tinged view, came alive with detail. Subtle shifts in the stone, discolorations invisible to the naked eye, revealed faint patterns on the walls.

  He tried to follow the impressions as he walked around the chamber, deliberately moving at a measured pace, rather than running -like he desperately wanted to.

  Time was limited. The shift change wouldn’t last forever, and he’d timed his window down to the second. He prided himself on precision, but even he knew the universe had a way of slipping errors into the most carefully planned heists.

  Not that this was a heist. Not exactly. But he couldn’t deny that sneaking into an ancient alien chamber under the noses of armed guards had a certain thrill to it.

  And then he saw it.

  The discolorations on the stone weren’t just random patterns. They formed a smooth, polished surface that stood out from the rest of the rough-hewn rods. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but Adam had spent years training his eyes to spot the subtle, the hidden.

  “This has to be it,” he whispered.

  As he examined it, he also noted where the prominent energy patterns and currents were located and began tracing them to the nodes he was looking for.

  It wasn’t a screen in the traditional sense -no glowing pixels or backlit display. But something about the way the surface caught the light, the faint sheen of it, screamed interface.

  He traced the scientists’ work, noting the web of cables snaking across the floor. They’d hooked up every piece of tech they could think of to what he could only assume were ports, trying to brute-force their way in.

  Adam almost laughed. He would’ve done the same, once upon a time. But they were barking up the wrong tree.

  The real interface was here, in front of him. He felt it in his gut. And the energy markers confirmed his suspicions.

  He pulled out his data-pad. The device wasn’t just a hacked smartwatch anymore; it was an extension of him, a tool as much a part of his identity as his name. He aimed it at the polished surface, activating the link on his glasses and told it to analyze.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The device responded instantly, its overlay lighting up with a flurry of data.

  Structural analysis commencing. 50% complete. 99% complete. 100%.

  The holographic display flickered to life in front of him, projecting a translucent image of the stone surface. Adam’s eyes widened as the data layered itself over the image, highlighting something he hadn’t expected.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

  There was something behind it.

  The analysis wasn’t clear on what it was -just that it existed. He realized that the polished surface wasn’t just an interface; it was a barrier. And whatever lay beyond it wasn’t stone.

  Adam’s pulse quickened as he stared at the projection. His mind raced through possibilities. Could it be a chamber within a chamber? Some kind of machinery? Something alive? He didn’t know, and the uncertainty sent a thrill through him that he hadn’t felt in months.

  The scientists had missed this. They’d been focused on the wrong part of the structure, blind to what was right in front of them. And now, here he was, standing on the edge of a discovery that could rewrite everything humanity thought it knew about Mars. About mankind itself.

  Adam tightened his grip on the data-pad, his mind already calculating his next move. Whatever was behind that screen, it wasn’t going to stay hidden for long. Not if he had anything to say about it.

  But first, he needed to figure out how to open the damn thing.

  Adam’s gloved hand hovered for a moment before tapping the smooth surface of the alien screen. The texture felt cold, dense, and unyielding -there was nothing that suggested a hollow chamber behind it. If not for the modifications he’d made to his goggles, he never would have spotted the anomaly. He wouldn’t have known the screen was more than an artistic centerpiece carved by nature’s indifferent hand. But now? Now he could see it for what it was.

  A viewport. A window into whatever lay beyond.

  Not the interface, he thought with a twinge of disappointed annoyance. Just a damn display.

  He suppressed the urge to curse out loud and instead grumbled internally. His display flickered to life on the watch strapped to his wrist, its holographic projection casting a faint, ethereal glow in the dim chamber. Tapping in a series of commands, he directed it to search for an actual interface port. His device quickly rendered a wireframe model of the structure, highlighting the various points of contact the scientists had already attempted.

  “Damn,” he muttered, realizing he’d been a little too quick to dismiss them as idiots. One of their cables was plugged into the correct analog port after all, but they hadn’t gotten far. He couldn’t blame them; their equipment was more specialized for brute-force analysis, not subtle understanding. And that was the difference between them and Adam. He had a universal key.

  There was just one problem. Adam hadn’t brought any tools.

  Stupid, he scolded himself. You don’t go spelunking into alien technology without a complete toolkit.

  Sure, his data-pad was wireless, but wireless wasn’t going to cut it here. Not without the right kind of connection. He felt like an idiot for not anticipating this. It was like trying to plug a state-of-the-art gaming console into a decades-old television without the right RCA adapter. Impossible.

  His gaze darted toward the workstations the scientists had set up, their tangled web of cables and blinking equipment. He knew what he had to do, and it made his pulse quicken.

  Might as well ring the bell, he thought. No risk, no reward.

  Keeping an ear tuned for any approaching footsteps, Adam moved to the nearest terminal, the one connected to the analog port. He didn’t hesitate. Unplugging their device, he quickly connected his own data-pad, slotting it into place with a faint click. His fingers danced across the holographic interface, activating his sensory and hacking programs.

  “Analyze and unlock,” he whispered, watching as the command took hold.

  Hacking wasn’t what the movies made it out to be. There were no flashy sequences of edgy hackers -hyper attractive ones- rapidly typing out code while digital firewalls shattered like glass blown apart by cyber missiles.

  Real hacking was quiet, precise, and -if you were good- utterly boring to watch. Half the time, it was as simple as plugging in the right device and letting pre-written scripts do the work. Sometimes, all it took was clicking a link or inserting a USB drive.

  Adam’s data-pad was running exactly the kind of algorithm Hollywood would scoff at for being too mundane. But that was the beauty of it. Efficiency over theatrics.

  And subtlety.

  He waited. And then waited some more. The seconds dragged on, every moment feeling longer than the last. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone would walk in at any moment, blowing his carefully constructed cover.

  Finally, his watch vibrated softly, the display flashing a simple message:

  Analysis complete. System unlocked.

  At first, nothing seemed to happen. Adam frowned, ready to assume he’d wasted his time. And then, his HUD came alive with a rapid-fire sequence of images.

  “What the hell…” he breathed.

  The symbols were alien -pictograms that looked nothing like human language but felt purposeful, deliberate. They weren’t just a computer’s raw data. They were something more. A language. He couldn’t explain how he knew that; he just did. The patterns, the repetitions -it was the way they flowed, the way they felt. This wasn’t programming. This was a message.

  And if his instincts were right, it also was a warning.

  He watched as the symbols looped, repeating themselves in a steady rhythm. Then he quickly activated another algorithm, setting his device to record everything. He didn’t have time to decipher it now, but he wasn’t about to leave empty-handed.

  Once the recording was complete, and the data secure, Adam unplugged his data-pad and reconnected the scientists’ equipment. Every second he lingered increased his risk of being caught. He had to move.

  His steps were quick but measured as he made his way back toward the chamber’s entrance. His heart pounded in his chest, not from exertion, but from the weight of what he’d just done. He hadn’t just opened a door; he’d hacked a system that had been locked for god-knew-how-long. And now? Now, it was only a matter of time before the scientists realized something had changed.

  As Adam slipped back into the shadows, blending into the endless monotony of his janitor’s duties, he told himself it was fine. His plan had been executed flawlessly. No one would suspect him. He’d left no trace.

  But in the back of his mind, a single thought gnawed at him: What happens if they figure it out?

  And worse: What if I just woke something up?