The young archaeologist picked up his dusty brown leather satchel and put his water-damaged and crumpled journal back into it. He approached the old brown entrance to the recently uncovered tomb minding his step all the way and making sure not to move too quickly or to disturb the long dormant tomb. When he reached the door, he took out a small brush and began to slowly and gently brush away the layers of sand and dirt that covered the entrance's door. As he brushed away the remnants of the years past, he was shocked to discover that there was writing all over the door. His assistant, a short frail man with round glasses, approached the door from behind the young archaeologist. As he approached, he said "My God, this isn't Egyptian, I don't know what it is but I've never seen anything like it." The young archaeologist studied the door in front of him. Indeed, it was a language he had never encountered in his studies, he knew instinctively the language in front of him was one that had been lost to the tides of history. The language had the appearance of a mix of modern braille and ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. Each character consisted of a small drawing, like those found in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, accompanied by a series of dots or scratches in and around the drawing. It seemed as though the characters were drawn first and the dots and scratches were added after to assign some sort of differentiation to each character. Some characters contained the same drawings, like that of a round saucer-like vehicle but one had three dots in the upper right region above the craft while another had a straight line beneath the craft with one dot on each side of the craft. What happened next was truly perplexing. As the young archaeologist stood in front of the door examining the characters that were etched into the door the most amazing thing happened. As if he had put the words into google translate and had been given a translation the characters on the door suddenly changed to English. In all the time it takes to snap a finger the door turned from an ancient artifact with an illegible language on it to a huge collection of English words and numbers that carried on in a seemingly endless passage. “Daniel” said the young archaeologist, his voice shaky and quiet. “What’s wrong William? This is a wonderful discovery!” replied the small assistant who was visibly excited and almost bumping into the walls of the tunnel around him as he exhibited the excitement he felt at the discovery “You will have made a name for yourself, and at such a young age, remarkable!” “Can you read it?” asked William in a quick, chilling manner. “Well of course I can’t” replied Daniel, “this is no language I have seen before.” “I can read it; I can read the whole thing and the message it portrays is a truly disturbing one. It says that according to the knowledge found in a book beyond this door that the world will be forced to encounter a celestial danger of which we must be prepared or else the knowledge found within and the knowledge found everywhere else will be lost. The door states that if the words beyond are not heeded that the earth and everything on it will perish.”

The old maid hobbled down the hallway in her dusty, worn outfit looking almost as old as the house she was tasked with cleaning and maintaining. She had already cleaned the study, the kitchen, and the library. The maid was dragging her withered and weary body from one room to the next until she came upon her employer’s office. “Lionel Earhardt” read the bronze plaque adorning the wall just to the side of the office’s door. Her employer was a cruel man, known for dealing in business that most would deem as nefarious. She did not know exactly what his occupation was or where he worked, all she knew was that he owned and operated several businesses. As she moved towards the door she overhead a familiar commanding sound, the voice of her employer, Mr. Earhardt. The maid heard another voice join in the conversation, also a man, of similar age and geographic origin to Mr. Earhardt. She could not make out every word spoken but she was certain that she heard “… the situation regarding your pretender brother has been handled.”

The call room was a frantic chorus of conversation and ringtones. It sounds more like a zoo than an office. The young employee reaches out at his ringing phone and answers it “Hello, thank you for calling Horizon Advantage, my name is Patel, how can I help you?” The voice, which sounded eerily familiar answers, “Hello Patel, how are you?” Patel answers, hesitantly “I am doing well, may I ask who is calling and the nature of your call?” “It’s you” answers the voice. “You who? What is your last name, You?” Asks Partel. “My last name is your last name” As Patel heard the words he spent the following silence contemplating in frantic fashion what he had just heard. He realized why the voice sounded familiar, it was his own voice. It sounded a bit different, more hushed, with more bass, perhaps how Patel would sound if he were fifteen or twenty years older than he is now. “What is this?” Asked Patel, clearly worried and in a growing panic. “It has taken me a long time to find you, you’re needed elsewhere. Somewhere that is here, but not now.”