Third Entry

March 16th, 2027

I have spent the better part of hours and a skipped dinner pondering on how to express the emotions that have been going through my soul on this day. I must have gone through at least a dozen different drafts, each failing in some aspect in conveying the true magnitude of my experiences. If only I could imprint into the keyboard all the innate complexities of the human psyche.

Nevertheless, I must continue my journal. The future generations will require a full accounting, as biased as they might end up being.

How true, how true!!!!!!

My conflict does not stem from disappointment, let it be very clear. The images from the rovers could never convey the full magnitude of what we were to see. We had the whole area mapped long before any human set foot on Mars, but looking through a digital reconstruction in a screen and walk among the preserved buildings were very different things.

Before I waste even more metaphorical paper with my meanderless rant. As the great master Carrol once said, “Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end.” In my case, the early moments of today would be the breakfast filled with tension we all shared. Nakamura and Zhang hadn’t yet solved their unpleasantness from yesterday, leaving the air so thick with contained anger you would think possible to slice a piece of it with a butter knife. Thanks to an ancient tome by Mead, I managed to ignore most of their childish squabbles, my heart jittery with the prospects of the day.

Aside from a select few, such as Doctor Ngwenya and Nurse Zhang, most of our team would perform a field study into the ruins. We all had the health that would have the great Enkidu giving praise and spent over two years in training to combat the harsh climate of the red planet.

An insignificant price to pay.

The good doctor and Nurse Zhang sent us off at the rover bay. Despite the words from Nakamura, residual effects from the shock from the previous day still lingered in her mind, no doubt. To my reassurance that everything would go without issue, she just reinforced her warning for caution and gave us all a quick prayer.

Twenty minutes across the harsh winds and endless dunes were all we needed to reach the goal I dedicated decades of my life. Heart beating as if to make its way back to Earth, we at long last arrived at the Precursor Ruins. [11]

That is when I find myself at a loss, filled with shame for lacking the proper words to express what I felt when we crossed the arc leading into the first buildings. As a man whose whole academic career revolved around how words are formed, it makes me go back to my freshman years, young and inexperienced. But in cases such as things, I shall borrow the wisdom of my dear Nana Ramirez, may she rest in peace: Use dumb words, ya moron.

We all owe to the young Diego Souza the simplest way to put into letters how it felt to look upon the thousands-years old vacant edifices. All the videos taken hadn’t been capable to convey how organic and alive the place seemed.

Now, not on the usual sense we tend to employ this word, oh no sir. Just like old Pompeii, no breathing soul walked around its streets for several thousands of years. In this manner, the Precursor city had been as dead as the ones found on the Moon. No, when I say alive, I mean the city was closer to a gigantic organism than anything else. And I do not use a metaphor here in this instance.

First, a hum, or pulse, too deep to have been just heard, almost in sync with our own hearts. It felt as if a massive organ had been pumping something across the city, spreading a sound no human should have ever felt.

Second, the architecture itself. Every building, every piece of stone had the same shapes as we saw a million times over the training, yet felt diseased. Each piece of rock composing the work of the ancients felt as if watching us, angered for the transgression. Who were we to intrude upon the eternal rest of our betters, they screamed.

And third, from the ground and walls all around us, it seemed as if a dark substance oozed out of them, like the pus from a festering wound left unattended. From the inside of our helmets we should not be capable of sensing any odors, yet I could still get the burning humors descending down my nose and throat, a taste of utter repugnance crawling over my tongue the longer I looked at those. [12]

Separate, these elements would give me pause on any good day. Together, they pose a foreign obstacle none had counted on. For our own sakes, we pulled the recordings taken during the months that followed the discovery. The shapes of edifices were the same, the shadows lingering over the putrid corpse of civilization had equal representation, yet vision could only go so far. And looking with greater attention, we detected the faint traces of the mysterious new liquid we now saw in abundance.

!? ! We should have gone back!!

A brief discussion ensued, with the conclusion that vision could only give us a limited perspective on the matter. We were just reacting with our other senses to whatever laid at the decayed husk of a fallen culture.

Still, none seemed as eager as before to venture deeper inside, save for myself, who had spent too long, sacrificed too much, to let that stop me. Even so, I will not claim the shock didn’t give me pause. Nevertheless, I pressed ahead, keen to find one particular item of note.

As I moved, with the rest trailing behind, I could detect movement on the edges of vision, from where shadows lingered. After the third time confirming nothing had been there, I ignored them, gaze fixed ahead. Residual thoughts influenced by the things said by Nurse Zhang, no doubt.

All too soon, I arrived at my destination, the one thing I had the greatest anticipation: A massive sculpted stone, right at the center of the enclave. Sculpted as if from the darkest of marbles, it littered its surface with veins of gold and silver, with runes carved all across the available space it could afford. These, not the sculpted monolith itself, were the object of my fascination. Little to no writing had survived on the Moon findings, yet here I find my own modern Rosetta Stone, just waiting to be cracked open to reveal its secrets. With a body warmed by my conscious and subconscious thoughts, I approached it, cursing my inability to feels its polish with my bare skins, to caress its mass in all its angles. [13]

Our stay ended briefer than my liking, but most of ours didn’t feel comfortable staying for much longer. Samples of the strange tar were collected for further analysis, more detailed pictures taken and then we moved back to the station.

As we left, I gazed back towards the city, mouth salivating with what’s to come.

Tomorrow, I go back to search for more examples of the written word. Even if there are any, the stone should provide more than enough material for my research. Now, I go join Hypnos and try not to think too much so I get a restful night. Hasn’t worked yet, but I suppose is the thought that counts.

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[11] Further analysis on what little remained on the surface of the “Earth” planet led to the hypothesis that these Precursors might be the Wardens. The fragmented rests of a Monolith on the presence of “Mars” also seem to indicate as much, but no conclusive evidence so far.

[12] It is ironic how these humans have encountered the Tar in such vast quantities in its fresh form while many of our scholars would gladly pay two arms in exchange for even a single preserved drop.

[13] This might be the very first apt description of a Monolith before its destruction. It correlates with the fragments found in other locations and confirms many of our assumptions relating to the Wardens. For more details on the matter, check Sage Sthu’gerd’s treatise on the matter. It should provide a far more apt thesis than the limited space I have for my notes here ever could.

Everything in this document has been fully translated from their original language into High Zatoreny.