Monolith
The beaming site stood before him, a monolith that jutted into the black, starry sky. It seemed less a building, more a monumental landform of unnatural proportion. The beam itself was only visible at its base, emitting from the tip of that pitch-black monolith, the only visible sign of any activity within the site. The surface around him, where it was not paved, bore the telltale pockmarks of a world exposed to void for eons. Down from the peak, before him lay the entrance to the structure. It was seamless, blending with the wall so smoothly that, had the paved pathway not run straight into seemingly nothing, he would never know it was there. There was no external access, no terminal or interface, no switch or lever, just an endless, perfectly black expanse of walls that extended for miles left and right. There were no lights, he saw by the light of his suit lamps.
Tentatively, hesitantly, as if waiting for a sign to run, an excuse to leave, he approached. He nearly did flee when the door opened, its sudden movement shocking his primed fight or flight response. It ponderously slid to the side, no seam making itself apparent as if the place were hiding it’s vulnerabilities, or had none. The space revealed had no lights, but from what little could be gleaned by the light of his suit lamps, it shared the black featureless rectangular aspect of the door. He thanked whoever may be listening that there was no air for him to hear the dreadful echo of his footsteps as he crept inside. He only noticed the door had slid shut behind him when he took a nervous glance back and saw only wall. It took all he had to maintain his composure, to stop himself from panicking on the spot. It would do him not good, he knew. So he crept onward, gait slowed by the weakness of the gravity there, which he was not used to. He doubted he’d have moved much quicker if it was a comfortable pull.
It was some time before he reached any deviation in that straight, rectangular hall. He’d been too nervous to check the time before he entered, his mind too primed for threats, but he could approximate that it had been an hour, perhaps two. He was glad for the systems that cleaned the sweat from his body. The deviation came in the form of, at first, a dim red light in the distance. He’d stopped for a moment when he saw it, ice in his veins, but what was there to run to? He’d trudged on, and it grew brighter with the closing distance, until he could resolve a small interface. Antiquated, unused, it lacked the typical signs of disuse but he knew no human had set foot here in a long, long time. The light had come from a small, caged emergency lamp mounted above the screen, which itself was recessed somewhat into the wall and possessed the characteristic outwards curve of ancient CRT displays. The inputs were similarly antiquated, a keyboard and trackball mounted below on a small shelf of the same material of the walls. It was dead. He approached it anyway, grateful for a break in the monotony.
It flicked to life
[PROCEED]
He tapped on the keyboard, spun the trackball. The amber display did not react. The words were resolute, concrete save for the faint movement of the scan lines. Unchanging as the rest of that place. He looked ahead of him, more featureless black expanse.
“I’ll wait here for now, thanks,” he said to himself, knowing he could not be heard. He glanced back at the monitor. It had changed.
[ACCEPTABLE. PROCEED AT WILL.]
Ice in his veins once again. It heard him, whatever it was. The site itself? Something that ran it? An old automated response, replaying another conversation? Maybe it was that, maybe it hadn’t actually heard him, maybe it was simply proceeding through a per-determined set of text.
“Can you hear me?” He asked to no one. The words did not change. He waited for them to continue on their track. The words did not change. He sighed and slid down the wall, resting weary legs.
