《This Place is Not a Place of Honor》


 Prologue

    This place is a message... and part of a system of messages... pay attention to it!


    Sending this message was important to us. We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture.


    This place is not a place of honor... no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here... nothing valued is here.


    What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us. This message is a warning about danger.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The danger is in a particular location... it increases towards a center... the center of danger is here... of a particular size and shape, and below us.


    The danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours.


    The danger is to the body, and it can kill.


    The form of the danger is an emanation of energy.


    The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically. This place is best shunned and left uninhabited.

 Chapter 1

    <h2 style="text-align: center">From the field journal of Dr. Oren Redridge, exploratory archeologist</h2>


    <h2>207th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    The sign hung on a rusted metal fence, surrounding a mostly empty patch of desert. It seemed like an oasis in the field of menacing spikes I had just passed through. I slid my pack off my shoulders and rummaged through the top pocket, eventually extricating my Ancient-to-Common translation guide. I thumbed through the worn pages, checking the words from the sign I didn¡¯t recognize against the crude definitions in the guide. The sign seemed to be a general warning of some kind of danger, probably to protect a ceremonial site or valuable item. A few of the lines caught my attention, however: ¡°This place is not a place of honor... no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here... nothing valued is here. What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us.¡± These seemed to counter my theory of a ceremonial site.


    I shook off these doubts, and began to search for my bolt cutters. Since archeologists like myself began exploring Ancient sites from before the Great Flare, we¡¯ve found that sites defended by signs proclaiming danger often contain the most valuable information to our research. Why, just two years ago one of my colleagues found a group of massive strange white dishes arrayed in the desert, surrounded by a fence and signs labeled ¡°Do Not Enter¡± (an Ancient warning often found surrounding areas they considered forbidden). The find advanced our field by magnitudes, and we now believe the dishes are a much larger version of those found on the rooftops of domiciles in Ancient settlements, although their purpose remains unknown. The Ancients seem not to have differentiated in phrasing between things that posed a danger to others and things that they considered valuable. I believe this site contains the latter, although my apprentices were not convinced, and wouldn¡¯t even go past the first razor-wire-topped fence. It had taken me the better part of a day to make it through the forest of spikes ¡ª which only furthered my belief that the Ancients were trying to scare people away from a site of great value ¡ª and the sun neared the horizon as I extracted the bolt cutters from my pack. The metal surrendered quickly to their powerful jaws, and I made short work of creating a gap big enough to squeeze myself through. Once on the other side, I reassembled my pack and began to head sunward, traveling for only a few hours before being forced by the oncoming night to make camp.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

 Chapter 2

    <h2>208th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    I awoke when the sun began to hit the side of my tent. Strangely, I¡¯d heard none of the noises of desert creatures I¡¯d become accustomed to during the night, and the sunrise was accompanied by silence, aside from the sound of my tent¡¯s walls flapping in the wind. I broke camp quickly after eating a breakfast of protein paste (sunflower seed flavored), and continued my sunward path. After walking for hardly twenty minutes, I came across a concrete box of some kind protruding roughly a foot from a large sand dune. Circling it twice revealed no clear entrance, although I discovered a carving on the peri-sunward side of the structure. Some of the letters were completely worn away by the elements, but I could make out the following:


    I FO MA I N


    I believe it originally read ¡°INFORMATION¡± (an Ancient word for knowledge). I concluded that this box must actually be a buried building, likely containing a repository of data about the site. I decided to leave the excavation of the building to my (cowardly) apprentices, and set one of my marker flags on the anti-sunward side of the structure before continuing.


    The sun was past its zenith when I came upon a large boulder with a carving on the anti-sunward side ¡ª slightly recessed, likely to prevent it being eroded by the windblown sand. Closer inspection revealed it was the Ancient symbol . This symbol has troubled the archeology community for nearly the entirety of its existence. It appears to be both a symbol used to indicate danger and a popular motif, appearing on everything from stickers to baby clothes. An ongoing argument surrounds whether the symbol was co-opted by popular culture because of its association with danger, or whether our interpretation of its use on signs is completely incorrect. Based on the wording of the sign I passed yesterday, I am forced to assume that the symbol is used here to discourage entrance. I placed another marker and continued walking. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    As the sky began to redden I reached another disruption to the placid desert scenery, this time a large metal disk embedded in the ground. It was almost completely covered in sand, and I would¡¯ve missed it entirely had the angle of the sun not caused a slight glint through a gap in the sand, which caught my eye. Clearing it off revealed it is roughly thirty-four hands (or 240 Ancient ¡°inches¡±) in diameter and ? of a hand thick, at which point it is adhered to concrete of the same diameter. The carvings appear to be about half the depth of the metal, and depict the Ancient word for danger, a message I could not translate in its entirety but seems to refer to something discarded and contains a warning against digging, crude images of human faces (one appearing to exhibit fear, the other disgust), and two symbols I did not recognize (drawn below).


    I feel like I¡¯ve seen the second symbol before, but I do not recall where (perhaps in a presentation at a conference?), let alone what it means.


    After sketching the symbols I made camp near the disk as the sun dipped below the horizon. The night was cold, as desert nights often are, but the sand below me felt unusually warm.

 Chapter 3

    <h2>209th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    I awoke once more to a silent sunrise, entirely devoid of signs of animal life. All that seemed to live in this part of the desert was the hearty sagebrush. Before falling asleep the previous night I¡¯d resolved to attempt to excavate as much of the area below the disk as I could. The warning against digging carved into it indicated that whatever was being protected at this site was most likely directly underneath.


    After another breakfast of protein paste (this time beef flavored!) I pulled out my shovel and began to dig. The first two hands of the soil were soft and easy to remove, but I quickly hit a harder portion which slowed my progress nearly to a stop. After struggling with it for countless hours, I decided to refocus my efforts on removing the metal disk from the concrete below it. Originally I¡¯d assumed that the concrete was simply a foundation to stop the disk from moving, but I now believe it is an access shaft of some kind, as after digging down nearly ten hands it still continued. The edges of the disk were rusted, which allowed me to pry it off somewhat easily with my crowbar. I carefully placed it to the side, preserving it mostly intact for the horde of my colleagues who would come rushing in once I reported back. As an exploratory archeologist, I don¡¯t do much of the careful studying of artifacts. I simply locate Ancient sites and determine their value before contacting the research archeologists for the tedious task of cataloging everything.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Removing the disk revealed that my assumption was correct. The concrete tube continued further into the ground than the light from my lamp could reach, although the way it glinted off the walls further down indicated that the tube was not entirely concrete. Thankfully, I could also see steps carved into one side. I hadn¡¯t brought nearly enough rope for a descent of this depth. My fruitless digging had taken up the majority of the daylight hours, so I determined the best course of action was to start the exploration of the shaft the next morning, after a good night of rest.

 Chapter 4

    <h2>210th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    I awoke early, the sun not even fully over the horizon. My excitement seemed to charge the air around me, even making my morning tube of protein paste taste like something one might actually eat voluntarily. This site could be the most intriguing archaeological discovery of this century ¡ª maybe ever ¡ª and I could sense it even before I began to descend. I took with me only a small pack, containing some food and water, a few sheets of paper for sketches, some tools, and a lamp.


    After just a few minutes of climbing, the material of the walls shifted from concrete to natural stone ¡ª I¡¯m not geologist, but I believe it to be salt rock of some kind ¡ª braced with countless metal bolts and covered in mesh. The steps were lined with heavily rusted metal. It took me just over an hour to reach the bottom. I estimate it to be almost 400 bodies deep (around 730 Ancient ¡°meters¡±). The floor at the bottom was dusty under my feet, and the walls of the tunnel I found myself in seemed rough-hewn, with even more large metal bolts protruding from the ceiling and walls. Right at the base of the tube I found a sturdy-looking metal box which appeared to have been dropped from the top of the shaft. It contained a single sheet of fragile paper covered in handwritten Ancient. I could not translate most of it (I¡¯m out of practice in reading Ancient handwriting), but I have transcribed it below for further study:


    <blockquote>


    The flare came without warning, we didn¡¯t have time to seal the tunnel. It doesn¡¯t look good for the human race. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening in the wider world, but here at the site everything that could conduct electricity has gone down. Steven and I found the lid for the top of the shaft and are going to try and attach it somehow. We have no power, and it¡¯ll be night soon. We weren¡¯t ready for this. The site isn¡¯t secure. To whoever¡¯s reading this LEAVE NOW. Who knows what¡¯s happened since I wrote this. There could¡¯ve been another leak in one of the storage rooms. LEAVE NOW. This place is not a place of honor. Nothing valued is here. The danger is still present in your time as it was in ours.


    </blockquote>


    I¡¯m sure Dr. Rubrick back at the university will be able to translate it when I return.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    The tunnel extended in what I believe was a peri-sunward direction (it was hard to tell after such a long climb). After following it for just a few dozen bodies I noticed a large metal door ¡ª partially encased in salt rock ¡ª in the wall to my left. Some sort of liquid seemed to be leaking out from under it, partially soaking my shoes. It was hard to determine what exactly the liquid was, as the salt in the ground made it smell primarily of salt, and I didn¡¯t have a chemical analysis kit. The door seemed too sturdy to pry open, so I continued down the tunnel. I passed many more doors, each spaced roughly fifty bodies apart, on both sides of the tunnel. When I at last reached the end, I discovered a small opening where another door should¡¯ve been. It seemed that the salt rock had grown to fill what had once been a larger doorway. On the other side of the opening was a large room, similar in construction to the tunnel. The room housed ten or so large (1.5 bodies wide, slightly less than 2 bodies tall) domed metal containers. My determination was that whatever valuable items this facility was designed to protect would be stored in these.


    I immediately got to work attempting to pry open the containers. The metal shell was thinner than I had initially feared (merely a tenth of a hand thick) and surrendered quickly to my small cutting torch. Under the shell was a thick layer of foam (relatively easy to dislodge with a shovel) and another thin layer of metal. Beyond this seemed to be several interior containers, which would be hard to remove through the small hole I had created. I spent the next several hours widening it to be a full body tall. This revealed that the inner containers were midsized metal barrels, heavy for their size. With substantial effort I managed to get one out through the hole and onto the floor of the room. I pried the lid off with great excitement, only to find that the barrel was full of nothing but dirt. I clawed through it, hoping to find something buried within, but it was truly just dirt. Investigation of two of the other barrels in the container revealed more dirt. ¡°Why would the Ancients go through so much trouble to secure barrels full of useless soil?¡± I wondered aloud to the empty room. Tired and covered in salt and dirt, I decided to leave that question to the research archeologists and return to the surface.


    The climb out took longer ¡ª nearly three hours ¡ª and it was dark by the time I returned to my tent. I¡¯ll start the hike back to base camp tomorrow.

 Chapter 5

    <h2>211th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    I awoke just before dawn with a pounding headache. I barely managed to stick my head out from the tent before violently vomiting the entire contents of my stomach onto the dry soil. I have no way to check, but I believe I have a high fever. I feel weak and dizzy. I am not qualified to make any medical diagnosis, but I think whatever is happening to me is due to a virus of some kind in the dirt in those barrels. I have to warn someone. No one else can come here. I have to make it back to base camp. I will update this journal as frequently as I can in case I don¡¯t survive.


    ? before zenith


    I feel like I¡¯ve been walking for a lifetime, but the sun tells me it has only been three or so hours. My symptoms seem to be worsening with every passing minute. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Zenith


    I tried to eat another tube of protein paste for lunch, but I was completely unable to keep it down. The skin on my arms is reddening, as if I¡¯d spent too long in the sun. My vision is blurring, and it''s hard to keep walking in a straight line. I¡¯ve stopped at the rock I found on the 208th. I should¡¯ve heeded its warning.


    Sunset


    I¡¯ve made it to the ¡°INFORMATION¡± building. The sunset is beautiful, painting the clouds in brilliant pinks and purples, with a pool of oranges on the horizon. I fear it will be my last. I know it is dangerous to travel in the desert at night, but I have to keep going.


    Several hours after sunset


    The moon quickly followed the sun under the horizon. Once the last glimmers of light vanished beyond the horizon I realized I had no way of telling which direction I am walking. I have decided to stop for the night.

 Chapter 6

    <h2>212th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    Dawn


    I slept restlessly, only closing my eyes in short bursts. I feel immense pain throughout my whole body. My hair has begun to fall out. The redness on my arms has spread to the rest of my skin, and worsened to blisters in some places. I vomited again this morning, almost entirely blood. I must make it back.


    ? before zenith


    I came upon the gap I¡¯d made in the fence quickly. Now all that is left is the forest of spikes. I am so close.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Zenith


    I cannot go on. My legs have collapsed beneath me. I tried to drag myself forward, to no avail. I am so weak, I can barely lift my hand to write this, but the world must know what has happened to me.


    ? after zenith


    Stranger, if you are reading this, turn back. Leave my body, and run as fast and as far as you can. I should¡¯ve heeded the sign. This place is not a place of honor. Nothing valued is here. All that awaits you is death.

 Epilogue

    <h2 style="text-align: center">From the post-autopsy notes of Dr. Rowan Stone, Anti-Sunward Mountain Medical Center, 215th day of the 472nd year of civilization</h2>


    Victim is Dr. Oren Redridge, exploratory archeologist. Discovered anti-sunward of the Pecos River by his apprentices on the 214th day of the 472nd year. Time of death unknown, cause of death unknown. Last seen by aforementioned apprentices on the 207th day headed sunward from their basecamp.


    Exterior examination of the body revealed hair loss and apparent skin burns (cause unknown). Interior examination reveals massive organ damage of unknown cause. The organs appear to have practically liquified, far beyond the effect of any blunt-force trauma.


    In my lengthy career I have never seen injuries of this nature. I have found a similar case in the archives involving two boys who died in a similar manner after playing near an abandoned mineshaft in the mountains. However, this occurred nearly 15 walking-days apo-sunward from where Dr. Redridge was found.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The field journal found with Dr. Redridge indicates that something in the Ancient site he was exploring is the cause of his death. Given the unknown and clearly deadly nature of his injuries, it is my professional recommendation that a thorough medical and archaeological investigation of the site in question be completed with full biohazard procedures in place.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Addendum, 216th day of the 472nd year:


    Roughly half a day after completing Dr. Redridge¡¯s autopsy ¡ª during which all standard sanitary procedures were observed ¡ª I have noted a growing redness on my hands and lower arms, similar to the skin burns found on the victim. At this time my symptoms are not as severe as the victim¡¯s and do not seem to be progressing, but I fear whatever killed him is not deterred in the slightest by our medical safety procedures. I now recommend that the Ancient site be sealed outright, in order to prevent whatever this is from spreading to the rest of the population.