Writing Prompt

The dirt was brown and bone dry. It clung to him everywhere, on his clothes and in his hair, in his eyes and ears, everywhere was invaded by the choking irritating dust of bygone days, of worlds that once were but have now faded into memory and out of memory. With the tip of his boot, he taps at what may be a rock or what may be something else, something representing a world that has moved on. The tip of his boot slips on what must be something metallic. Taking from his belt a wide, horse-hair brush, he brushes the debris from off the object. Beneath a thin layer of rocks, dirt, sand, and detriment, there begins to emerge a sphere, glinting in the early afternoon sunlight. It’s made of some inoxible alloy that has withstood the test of time, there is no trace of rust, only a dull tarnish and as the dirt falls away, letters are reveiled along one side of the emerging globe. RADIO-ANTENAE LTD. and underneath this: Serial #7783625. Stepping back from the discovery, the archeologist tips his hat upward to mop the sweat from his brow with an old handkerchief pondering as he does this mystery in the sand. A radio antenna as big as a basketball, here in the middle of the New England desert. Something that big could only be attached to something even bigger, perhaps enormous. Standing there on the sand, he looks down and tries to imagine how far the radio tower might stretch beneath him. Easily it could be 200 feet or more, all of that barried beneath the sand. The people that had lived here before could never have imagined that all their world would be covered by these shifting sands, these endless layers of dust. All those years ago, before the End Wars and the fall. Now there was nothing left to do but poke at old ruins and wonder at what life must have been like before humanity had ruined itself. Picking up his brush the old archeologist turned and headed back towards his dronecar. He would return with a crew of excavators who would slowly and mechanically begin to uncover the giant structure, cutting it down and harvesting the metal. Precious metals like copper where hard to come by in the wastelands of Americas. All things of value were buried in the sand, along with all the memories of a better world.

The material reminded Henrik of a insect’s carapace; black and hard as stone, but with an iridescent sheen like the surface of a bubble. Slight imperfections in the surface made it appear unmistakably organic. He’d felt for a while now like he was exhuming some monstrous invertibrate.

“They won’t buy your story,” said Helli. She’d already downed tools, and was standing over Henrik with hands on hips, looking grave. “As soon as one of the stiffs from Central heads down here for a photo op, they’ll see what you’re doing. They’ll know you lied, they’ll shut us down, and neither of us will ever do field work again."

Henrik put down his chisel. She was right, he knew. But he had no intention of letting anyone from Central near the dig.

“You’ve never excavated relics before. I have. And yet -“ he turned to face her and smiled, raising his arms in a shrug - “here I am!”

“They discovered it last week, it’s estimated to be at least 500 years old. It was different than other city’s we’ve found, five castles that we’ve uncovered.” My assistant informed me as we found our seats on the plane. “Yesterday they found a statue, of a man and a rodent. There’s said to be several other discoveries of the said rodents appreciation. Tokens, signs, a few carts of sorts, even entire buildings!”

“All of just this odd rodent? Do we know what kind it is?” I ask.

“Yes Mam. We believe it to be a type of mouse.”

“Ugh I hate those, they’re always scurrying around my dig sites!” I grumble. “Is it possible that it was some sort of died out religion? A civilization of mice worshippers?”

“I believe you might be onto something mam!”

The laser brushed away the dirt with ease. A bone buried within. “Looks like an old graveyard” Cabi called to their instructor. “Let me take a look at that” Locke the instructor replied, making zir way over.

Locke pointed zir brush at the rest of the dirt revealing the dusty yellow bone beneath. It was a person. Pieces of fabric stuck out of its bones where clothes once laid. Nothing but bone, cloth, and a small faded metal badge. “Pass me the de-rustifier” Locke gestured zir hand to Cabi. “You know it’s called a rubigir?” They said making their way over. “I know but that’s a blubbersome name. Just call it what it is” Cabi handed over the de-rustifier and Locke pointed it at the metal which instantly began shining in all its rainbow glory.

Pride flooded both archeologist’s eyes as they realised who they had discovered. They both held hands as they looked up to the glitter speckled dome in the distance. “Without you we wouldn’t have our home.” Locke whispered to the skeleton “thank you.” Before the pair left they laid a rainbow cloth over the body.

one day! this girl “ the great American Annie!” was searching “texas”. she discovered a big building . She went to her room wondering what she found and searched all night for any information. She found that this building is called “The Alamo”. She read that this building is very important! She warned people to be careful about what the do with building.

Buried under centuries of tidal silt, New York City had been eliminated from the eastern seaboard. Once a thriving metropolis, the population was wiped out after a series of category five hurricanes made landfall. There were a total of thirteen storms over twenty two days with each successive hurricane being larger than its predecessor. Some experts argued it was a result of global warming. Others blamed deep water fracking techniques. Republicans and Democrats pointed accusatory fingers at one another, despite both parties ignoring the warning signs of the potential catastrophe. Perhaps Mother Nature just got fed up with the Earth being treated with blatant disrespect.

In the aftermath, the ocean engulfed the city. Only a few nostalgic landmarks poked their way above the water’s surface. The spire atop the Empire State Building, first constructed as an airship docking station, now served as a warning buoy for cargo vessels. The torch on the Statue of Liberty served the same purpose while the observation deck in its crown was converted to a fishing pier. With water up to her chin, Lady Liberty became a metaphor for life upon the planet.

As the centuries passed, archeologists and underwater looters alike began to scavenge the three hundred square mile area. Scuba enthusiasts explored the underwater buildings as if they were natural, water filled caves. During one excursion, an amateur botanist came across unfamiliar plant life living in one of the famed towers. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

The thin strands of organic matter looked like a furry jellyfish without any arms or tentacles lingering around its underbelly. When the water current shifted, the plant moved in the opposite direction, as if stubborn in its refusal to conform with the changing tides. It’s like it had a mind of its own. All the sea creatures distanced themselves from it, distrustful of what it was or how it might act.

Not wanting to remove it from its natural habitat, the diver snapped photos and noted the GPS coordinates for future reference. He sheared off a few pieces with his knife for further study once he returned to dry land. A week later, when the test results were completed, the underwater explorer was horrified. It made no sense for the plant, which wasn’t a plant at all, to survive intact for five hundred years. As if it were comprised of an alien material, the item discovered in Trump Tower was the former president’s hair.

Entry ID: 2522.05.30.134 Dig Site ID: 34.052234; -118.243685 Common Name: Angel City AOF: “Fame Walk,” Hollywoodland

General Notes and Observations Status: Day 6 LOD: Raw, First Pass

General update: It would appear that the excavation team has uncovered the totality of what, for all intents and purposes, appears to have been known as FAME Walk or Walk of Fame (See below for an updated glossary of terms). From last count, the team has cataloged a staggering 2,700 five-pointed terrazzo and brass stars that appear to have been embedded at various times into a sort of WALKWAY.

Our early assessment is just that: early. But from what we have been able to piece together so far, our working theory is this. Fame was the religion of the people. Those who achieved a certain level of this Fame were granted a sort of deification—worship by the masses—and their ascension was marked by the addition of their name and the mark of their ORDER into one of these “Star Monuments,” which where then visited by worshipers who made the trip to Hollywoodland—alternate spelling of “Holy?”—a sort of pilgrimage of the faithful.(1)

From our initial research, it would appear that the Fame Walk religion had it’s “heyday” for the 100 years prior to the Bezos-Musk war of 2029.(2)

A complete registry of the “deities” worshiped by the Fame Cult will be provided upon the completion of this dig, but I have included a list of some of the names below to provide some context. From the names that we have been able to connect to existing records, some commonalities have emerged. Notably, they seem to be based largely on gender.

Female deities appear to largely consist of young, wealthy, physically attractive entertainers.(3) See:

Aniston, Jennifer Child, Destinys Johansson, Scarlet Kidman, Nicole

Male deities appear conversely to have very little to do with physical attractiveness and, from what we have been able to connect to known records, appear to achieve deification based on ability to generate laughter or revenue. See:

Coleman, Dabney Ferrel, Will Griffin, Merv Hanks, Tom

More study is of course necessary to determine if these assumptions are in fact real or perceived.(4)

Lastly, a personal note: As of now, there is still no direct connection to the “death cult” that originally facilitated the dig. While I have still been unable to connect them to the Fame Cults directly, my thesis objective remains at the forefront of my work. In order to prevent another societal decline like that experienced in the 21st Century—a Near-Extinction-level event—I continue to work under the assumption that there is a connection to be found. This work has, of course, taken on a new sense of urgency upon the news that small bands of adherents are re-emerging. If I and my work have anything to do with it, we will find a way to stop the Neo-Kardashians from gaining a foothold.

We cannot ignore the warnings of our ancestors; We must fight against this with all we have.

-N. West-Krazinski

Footnotes

1. Those familiar with the Nguyen dig of 2507 will no doubt make the immediate connection to the Graumanites. A Fame Cult with some immediate similarities—the deified adding their names and identifying handprints to the still-wet mixture used to create walkway slabs in front of a house of worship called a Theater—there is still disagreement as to if this Sect ran contemporaneously with the Fame Walk, was part of the same cult, or were “fighting” against each other for the same limited number of “converts.” (See “1000 Movies to See Before you Die,” Siskel & Ebert, Unearthed Ed. 2196, Umbatu translation.)

2. Though some scholars have tried to make the connection between the Fame Cults and the Greater Billionaire Wars—of which the Bezos-Musk Space War is the most well known—this connection is currently coincidental at best. More study of what led to these conflicts is required before any serious claim of causality can be seriously asserted.

3. There is a well known and “heated” debate about this in academic circles at the time of this writing. The main point of focus is as to whether or not the female deities were selected because of their physical alterations (see “Silicone: the god-maker,” Douglass, 2488) or if their physical alterations were required if they wanted to keep their deified status (see “Implanted: Staying Abreast of Change,” P. Anderson & D. Parton, 2308)

4. There are also some anomalies that, as of yet, do not fit nicely into the assumed “Pantheon.” For example, there seems to be some worship of animals:

Beatles, The Bunny, Bugs Mouse, Mickey

Glossary of Terms FAME - fām, noun. This appears to be the principal religion of many of the peoples of the Greater America Region at the beginning of the 21st Century. (See Ericsson’s seminal work “Tik Tok and the cult of Influencerism: The Genesis of the Narcissistic War” of 2035-2040; Also see Grandolino & Entione’s “Intsagram and the Fall of Modern Society,” 2496)

WALKWAY - wôk’wā”, noun. A passage or clearly defined path for ambulation by primitive humanity as an alternative to combustion-based conveyance. (See “Before the Gravulator: When Legs Moved History,” Fontana et al, 2399.)

ORDER - ôrder, noun. In this context, one of a select group of specializations within the Fame Cults, consisting of a focus in Music, Film, Television, Comedy. Lesser Orders include Influence, YouTuber, Tik Tok Dancer, Insta Fitness Guru, Daily Prompter.

The year is 2522 the world is different due to a meteors storm crashed into the planet outright destroying some continents or states but mainly it affected the weather and the ocean being poison and because of this for some states we had to build land beneath our old one.

Venter Hans looked at excavation site for hours with much to show for it. He is researching what happened to an old land named Florida, One of the land that was hardest hit with the meteors storm and so far all he’s found were

1. dead bodies that told a story of how they spent their last days alive.
2. Little knickknacks like a cell phone and old computers that was long since completely rotten.

In the end venter found out that Florida was facing a perfect storm when the meteor hit not only a poisoned it water destroyed its land even the citizens were shocked and tried to scramble to the other states but it was too little too late for them.

He looked at his watch and was surprised about the time in start to head above ground with a piece of his heart somewhat settled “ my great great great great ancestors finally known what happened you will not be erased I promise.”

Haz pressed her palm against the rusted carcass, a jolt of excitement shivering down her spine as she did so.

“And you say they moved around in these? To get from place to place?”, she asked. An electronic hum came from her father beside her before the quick reply.

“They called them ca-hars”, was her fathers’ robotic response.

Silently and under her breath, Haz sighed “marvellous”.

“Do you suppose any of them still work? Maybe we could try to start one up with the battery we brought and-“

“Hazel”, her father interrupted, and she though she heard a thread of impatience radiating through his voice, though the droid was unable to inject emotion into their voices just yet. The technology for such expression existed, but her father had been created before it had been fine-tuned.

“I know your passion lies in unearthing the history of our ancestors, but let’s not forget what we came here for. You have limited oxygen. Do not waste it” Haz sighed in irritation, knowing that her father was right. The tank of oxygen strapped to her back and injecting that lifegiving air into her helmet wouldn’t last her long and she had task to perform.

Haz hiked the straps of her bag further up her shoulders and continued drudging through the debris littered landscape.

In the five hundred years since the planet had been abandoned much of the artifacts left behind had crumbled and decayed, some of it rusted to red flaked hulls. In the first hundred years or so it seemed as though the plants had taken over, thick coiled weeds growing in places where cityscapes had once been.

But after oxygen levels had begun depleting in the third century post world-end, much of the life forms had died away. Many of the plants were now crispy brown husks that crunched under their boots.

It was sad really, to see what was once a beautiful place eroded and destroyed. Haz supposed she owed it to their ancestors for saving some of them and taking them to live in the free-floating city ships amongst earths satellites, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger towards the ancient humans.

If they had protected the earth better, stayed behind and cared for it instead of abandoning it, perhaps Haz would’ve had the opportunity to experience this world for herself. Before she could ponder the topic more, a string of gurgling static words itched at her earpiece.

Haz frowned and tapped the side of her helmet rather harshly and waited for the person on the other end to repeat what they had said.

“Haz? You there?”

Haz smiled at the familiar voice.

“Yeah, dad and I landed safely”

“Took you two long enough! Felix and I landed hours ago”, was Geri’s smart retort. Haz bit back her instinct to ramble the truth to Geri , not wanting to reveal just yet that her and her father had also landed roughly the same time that the other two in her unit had. She had spent most of her time carefully excavating remnants she had only read about on old records at the database: tiny devices with cracked glass screens, crumbling cement buildings and segments of statues once built to commentated people they deemed ‘special’.

Though most of the things left behind had been destroyed by acid rain showers, thin atmospheric conditions, time, and the suns relentless heat, few relics of the earth- bound humans still remained. It must’ve been nice, Haz thought, to live amongst all of this while it still thrived.

While the Space City had expanded exponentially in the past two centuries, they were still just floating in a mass of ships in an endlessly black sky in search of a habitable planet; nothing interesting ever happened there, at least not to the extent of the opportunities the earth humans probably had.

Geri’s staticky voice came once more and Haz had to strain her ears to hear her friends’ words. At her side, her father whirred quietly, an indication that his system was rebooting. Again.

Geri had once said the reason he seemed to reboot so often was because her father’s conscience, and all the thinking that came with it, was too much for the model they had put him in. That perhaps Haz and her family should have looked into getting a more advanced robot that would more efficiently hold the capacity of his mind. But his death had been so sudden and unexpected, that in those vital minutes post death, they were forced to get the most readily available model. It was just too bad for him. Her once six-foot six engineer of a father was now condensed into the body of a jangly four-foot robot that was all shiny metal limbs and springy joints.

“Ha-Hazel”, came Geri’s choppy voice.

Haz shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on her mentor’s voice.

“We think we found the bio bank. I’m sending you the coordinates now. We’ll wait for you before we enter”

No sooner had Geri said the words that the ping from her wrist screens notified her that the coordinates had been sent.

“Coming Geri- and don’t forget to suit up. We don’t know what we’ll be walking into” Haz turned to her father and smiled.

“Let’s go Pops, we’ve got some people to save up there”, Haz said, talking a moment to glance up towards the sky.

Though the sky was heavy with grey clouds and murky with dust, she could make out the enormous silhouette of their home- The Space City. However, and rather unfortunately, the conditions up there had turned dire in recent months.

Currently, almost a third of the population were suffering from an unknown bacterial illness that was starting to build quite the death toll. Perhaps five hundred years from now the deaths of almost 10,000 people from mass illness would’ve been manageable. But now, with a population already dangerously close to extinction, humans were in the midst of trying to preserve as many lives as possible. Since they had run out of specimens to compare and Petri dish experiments, the last resort was to send a select few- Haz included- to raid the ancient biobanks down on Earth. They were not the first group of humans to visit the planet in the past five hundred years to check on its condition, but their mission had been the most purposeful and significant one to date. If they were lucky enough to find remnants of disease treatment experiments or antibiotics left behind and preserved by their ancestors, perhaps that would be enough to save them.

A time capsule is what they had called it. These words raced through Dr. Francesca Lucci’s mind as a rather loud speaker announced their arrival to the ancient city of Los Angeles.

The early 21st century had always been her favorite era of history to study and explore. She found it so interesting, how a world so riddled with turmoil and despair could not only persevere, but thrive. Now, as she peered out the window of the Continental Bullet, she felt her stomach rolling over and over on itself. She could see the old skyline, once magnificent skyscrapers now rendered irrelevant and desolate when compared to the monstrous structures that inhabited her home town of New York City.

This was Los Angeles, the long forgotten city of dreams, now being lifted once again from the ocean to be picked over by archeologists like herself. Francesca had studied the climate crisis that eventually invited the Pacific Ocean to feast on North America’s western coast. It broke her heart even more so now that she was able to relish in all of… well, it.

She made her way to the back of the bullet train — a once retired 20th century invention that was now the only way to travel across America’s original coast — and stepped out onto the platform. The first thing to hit Francesca was, of course, the smell of salt. Then, she noticed the stark contrast between where she stood next to the train and where the platform turned into a flight of rust-stained stairs, the white on dark orange making her feel a tinge of pity for the white skirt she currently wore.

“Dr. Lucci!” a male voice called from somewhere on the platform. Francesca looked through the relatively thin crowd of experts like herself — they were here to study the freshly surfaced metropolis — and spotted a man wearing an outrageous looking sun hat approaching her with enthusiasm. “I’m Dr. Vincent Reyes, the gentleman who invited you here,” he introduced himself with a smile.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Francesca exclaimed, dropping her satchel to the ground and shaking his hand. “Please, call me Francesca. My title seems a bit too formal given the amount of time we’ve spent in communication.”

“Then, you can call me Vinnie,” he responded, picking up Francesca’s newly discarded bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” Vinnie began speaking as the pair walked the length of the platform, their hair being tousled as the Continental Bullet made its swift escape for its next stop in the recently landlocked state of Nevada.

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?” Francesca said aloud as they approached the stairs that led down into the city. She could see the Hollywood sign sitting idly across the valley, looking much different than she had seen in pictures. “I never thought I’d ever get to step foot in Los Angeles and yet here we are. It’s almost unreal,” she paused for a beat, seemingly contemplating something. “How is it that this city isn’t still buried beneath the Pacific?”

It had only just occurred to Francesca that she had no idea what exactly had possessed their modern-day Atlantis to come crawling back to the surface. In all of her studies, she had learned one fact that, up until the last decade or so, was never expected to change. You see, the western coast of old North America was gone, never to be seen again. So why now, 5 centuries later, did the ocean decide to spit it back out like a toddler spits out something they aren’t supposed to eat?

“That’s an interesting question,” Vinnie told her, his eyebrow cocked up in thought. “I haven’t been briefed on its entirety yet but the explanations I’ve been given suggest a shift in tectonic plates. An underwater earthquake of sorts.”

Francesca laughed to herself. An earthquake, of course. How simple of an explanation that was.

The pair made their way down the staircase that had been erected 3 years prior when scientists decided it was safe to walk across the former state of California. Though the empty land was not yet open to the general public, there were already clear paths through the young trees below, Francesca noted. It was strange, in her opinion, that the soil was even able to support plant-life yet. Surely all those centuries beneath salt water had to have done some damage.

Maybe Los Angeles wasn’t as desolate as she thought.