A Glimpse into Progress

Dusk and April stepped cautiously into the massive structure, their steps echoing against the smooth, metallic floor. The air was cooler, crisper, with an artificial sterility that was unsettling in its perfection. The room they entered was wide and oddly symmetrical, with sleek walls and a faint blue glow emanating from thin lines tracing intricate patterns on the floor. The glow pulsed rhythmically, like the faint heartbeat of a dormant creature.

Dusk glanced around, brow furrowing. "This place… it’s very... clean."

April simply murmured in agreement, having not yet processed the room that lay before her.

It was cleaner and more organised than anything they'd encountered in Thermoa's depths. The polished steel walls reflected their silhouettes, and scattered lights flickered in rhythmic patterns across the high ceiling.

A faint memory tugged at Dusk's mind. It reminded her of the labs she had seen as a child—brief glimpses behind locked doors, filled with incomprehensible technology. She was about to speak when a sudden hum filled the room.

A beam of light burst forth, and a holographic figure appearing in the centre of the foyer. The translucent image depicted a man in a sterile white uniform, standing stiffly as if addressing an audience.

“Welcome, maintenance crew,” the hologram began, his voice smooth but mechanical. “It must be time for the half-century maintenance of this facility. As you should know, this is the oxygen production factory, critical to Thermoa's survival. Your tasks include rust cleaning, equipment replacement, and quality control.”

For perhaps the first time in their lives, April and Dusk's expressions copied each other completely. Mouths agape. Eyes widening in confusion, wonder and shock as the hologram continued its directive. 

“It is imperative that all equipment functions as intended, as such details on all machinery contingencies can be found in the file room. Though should the lifeblood system fail, may God help us all.” The figure paused dramatically before concluding with an unsettling chant. “Great fire consume us, eat at our lives, eat at our souls.”

The hologram flickered and went silent.

“What the fuck was that?” April blurted out, taking a step back.

Dusk tilted her head, scrutinising the figure as it rewound back to its original greeting.

“Welcome, maintenance crew. It must be time for the half-century—”

“It’s.... not real?” Dusk let the words come out almost as a question, wondering what exactly it was that stood before her. She was struck with a sense of awe, akin to when Quill showed her a new unfathomable creation. 

Dusk did her best to focus, trying to piece together the information. "Whoever made this place," Dusk murmured, "wanted people to remember something important... but what is oxygen and what’s the lifeblood system? I don't even know what a maintenance crew is... not to mention that bit at the end. Ugh..." Dusk grunted in dissatisfaction, annoyed at how little she understood.

"Yeah... I think I'll leave the thinking to you." April chimed in, a slight playfulness in her voice.

“Well... hopefully we can find something deeper within.” Dusk said, picking a random door to explore though.

§

The corridors of the factory sprawled out like a labyrinth, each turn revealing cluttered paths of machinery and tangled cables. The blue wires from the foyer streaked across the walls and floors, twisting and branching like veins. The faint hum of machinery vibrated through the air, a sound that grew louder the deeper they ventured.

They entered a larger chamber where rows of strange, blocky objects sat on rows and rows of desks; chairs neatly arranged out in front. Thin sheets of reflective material hung over objects, some partially cracked. Most of them still wore dark, flat surfaces, layered in dust. Electronics hung out the backs of many, others seemed to be encased in what looked like smooth stone.

April poked one of the objects, jumping back as a hollow sound echoed through the chamber. "What are these?"

Dusk crouched, inspecting the jagged shards of reflective material scattered on the floor. "I don’t know… Mirrors?" She glanced at the smooth surfaces on the blocks, running her fingers over the cool texture. "Or maybe… windows?" Her voice trailing off into thought. 

They pressed onward, climbing over scattered debris and ducking under the occasional collapsed passage. The faint hum of the glowing veins seemed louder here, mingling with the steady rhythm of machinery, so distant it felt more like a memory than a sound.

The pair entered a larger chamber where enormous machines loomed overhead. Gears turned slowly, and pistons hissed with faint bursts of steam. The blue cables threaded through every crevice, connecting the machinery in a complex network.

“Everything’s still running,” April noted, surprise creeping into her voice. “It looks so old... and yet... it’s still working.”

"That's probably what the 'maintenance crew' is for I guess." Dusk theorised. "Must be pretty important..."

Their path led them into a smaller room filled with rectangular shapes jutting from the walls. The faint smell of aged paper lingered in the air. April tugged one open, revealing neat stacks of thin, pale sheets covered in delicate black markings. She pulled one out, holding it awkwardly.

"What do you think these are?" She inquired.

Dusk took the sheet, staring at the words. "It’s writing," she said slowly. "A kind of record. Maybe it’s explaining something about this place... I might be able to read a simpler piece..."

Together, they sifted through the contents of the drawers. Most of the pages were incomprehensible, filled with diagrams of strange devices or symbols neither of them could decipher. But one stack caught Dusk’s attention—a set of bound papers on a desk at the back of the room. It was simply titled "Vicennial Reports"

Flipping through, she realised it didn't contain much technical writing. Only the personal reflections of various scientists. Dusk picked one of the shortest sections she could understand:

1968: The reactor has finally been completed, the lifeblood of our civilisation! A glorious testament to our achievements. Now we turn to the next phase. A city to rival all others—a sanctuary for the remnants of humanity. Thermoa will be the capital, the centrepiece. The city will surround it, split into four segments, each governed by their own central heart, truly an enlightening concept; we call it the Rebirth project.

I have been tasked with the facilitation of the oxygen production factory. Clean air has been harder to source as of late, and we need a long-term solution. The details have been kept from the masses, they need not know of our troubles, our creations would cripple their weak minds.

1988: Progress continues steadily. Excavation efforts have expanded Thermoa's surrounding area, and the Rebirth project continues to show promise. We are in the process of automating the excavation process. In recent years the masses have grown suspicious if they see us moving outside of the lab too often. 

2008: I take over these writings from my father. He passed in his sleep and I have inherited his Blessing, a gracious gift. His mind is truly magnificent, it has opened my eyes to so many great possibilities. I must use it well.

2028: The first stage of excavation is almost complete. The first quarter of the grand city will soon lie before us and the fruits of our labour will be rewarded. I have left the facilitation of oxygen production to my fellow compatriots for I have been summoned. 

Each factory leader has a new goal, the Rebirth project. It has proved more difficult than anticipated, it toys with out minds like a God. Soon it will come learn who the true Gods of this world are.

2048: Oxygen production is fully operational! The first of many factories to be completed, food and fiber should be close to follow. Each has been linked directly to Thermoa, they shall serve us for centuries to come. 

And yet the Rebirth project has hit a wall. Our minds melt at the concepts we unravel, not even my father could comprehend this madness. We need more time.

2068: Failure. The Rebirth system has failed. The surrounding area must be abandoned and sealed. No one can know of our failures. The factories will be left to run, a measly success compared to what could have been. May God forgive us for our sins, we should never have tempted the laws of reality.

Dusk closed the report. Her mind struggling to comprehend what she had read. The scientists had created this abyss. They planned to create something great, something magnificent, but it failed. The scientists failed... The thought scared her, they had never failed before.

April looked at Dusk with concern. "So what did you find out."

"Nothing." The response shocked Dusk herself, that wasn't what she had meant to say. 

April hesitated for a moment but nodded reluctantly. "Alright, if you say so." April looked at her friend, she was smiling. It was a horrific smile. 

§

They climbed a narrow stairwell, emerging onto the top of the factory. The view stretched endlessly, a sea of shadows and scattered lights.

April set up their small camp, her usual cheer dimmed by the uncertainty of Dusk's behaviour. 

"Dusk, are you ok?"

It looked back with a smile. It knew how to speak like her, it knew how to act like her, it knew think like her and it knew how to reassure her friend.

"I'm ok April, don't worry. Let's just focus on enjoying the rest of our adventure, together." 

April looked back in happily, falling asleep not long after, her breathing soft and steady.

Dusk sat alone. She couldn't move. She tried to speak, but only rasps of air escaped her mouth. Her gaze was fixed on the cylinder in the distance. It loomed closer now, its hazy surface shimmering faintly in the dim light. Her eyes were locked with it, and she could no longer escape.