"God damn, there's so many of them," remarked Cleetus, watching the screen with us.

The dragons weren't especially active but we were all entranced by them, both out of fear and slight curiosity. Well, all except Detective LaLouf, who was pouring over the old journal of Martians past.

"I've made it to Star Year 89," she remarked, "I'm not sure I'm understanding all this."

"Do you think they eat if they sleep?" I asked the crowd.

"We don't know that they're sleeping," Dr. Snively answered, "they're probably still active. If they're machines they could just be conserving energy."

"But do they eat?" I asked again. "Like, you have to put gas in a car. Do they require gas? Or something like that?"

On screen, one of the dragons appeared to arch its back like it was stretching as it laid back down.

"Look, they programmed it to do that," I pointed out, "did they program them to eat?"

"Maybe they programmed them to shit too," Cleetus added, "and that's what all the oil we found was. Dragon shit."

"Lola," said Laurence, not partaking in our deep conversation, "you said you're not understanding something you're reading?"

Detective LaLouf sighed. "Well, I may be. Just have to keep in mind they're Martians so things may work different with them. For example:" she cleared her throat. "Star Year 90, and we, the people of this planet, still wait for the metal guards to slumber. We have not left this control room for ten star years now- because we had put all in construction of highly intelligent killing machines, we now have become their prisoners. We must not leave this room or else they will destroy us."

"...what's not to understand?" asked Cleetus, "it sounds like the Martians built the dragons, dragons turned on them, Martians all retreated here and hoped to wait out the dragons or at least wait for them to go into rest mode."

We all nodded. Cleetus's interpretation made sense.

"But for ten years? In here? What did they survive on for that long?" LaLouf turned the page. "Oh, never mind, here we go: 'Star Year 91, all the peasants have been consumed. It is only us, the elite of this planet who remain, and laws govern desecration of our higher bodies are off-limits.'"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"So they resorted to cannibalism," I mused. "They must've even eaten the bones. Only see those few fancy dressed skeletons over there."

LaLouf went on: "the metal guards are still awake. We have turned off the system in hopes it stops the countdown. If we cannot leave this room we will soon perish and our kind be no more."

"Which...they did." I said. "The perishing, I mean."

"Guess they starved to death waiting on the dragons to go away," added Cleetus. "Rough way to go."

The dragons on the screen seemed to be fairly relaxed and rested.

"You mentioned a countdown, Lola," said Dr. Snively, "would that be this?" He pointed to symbol on the side of the screen. It appeared the numbers were descending.

"What is it counting down?" Cleetus pondered.

I, however, felt a sudden sense of fear and and foreboding.

"The Martians said they turned off that countdown as a way to encourage the dragons to sleep," I remarked, "so if that is the countdown and it's back on...isn't that a bad thing?"

Everyone stared at the screen.

"Lola, they don't say HOW they shut it down, do they?" asked Laurence hesitantly. "Or...what happens if you don't?"

LaLouf shook her head. "It seems to be implied something bad happens if you don't. Not sure why it took them ten star years to figure that out but again, they're Martians. Their logic and our logic isn't compatible."

The dragons continued to seem fairly motionless on screen but I could feel myself starting to sweat. We had started a countdown that we had no idea what would happen if it timed out.

"How did you turn this on, Cleetus?" I asked, almost commanding, "you need to turn it off."

"I...leaned on it," he replied with a shrug, "it may just turn on by touch. No idea how you turn it off."

Dr. Snively tried touching the screen. "No, that didn't work," he mused, "may even have sped up the countdown."

"Is there a plug?" I asked panicked as I dropped to my knees, attempting to look under the table. There was no plug.

"Lola, did the Martians say anything else?" asked Laurence, the concern in his voice similar to mine.

His wife shook her head. "No, it ends with them cursing their hubris for building such a smart yet dangerous race of creatures that, though created to protect, instead wanted to make the planet their own. Essentially, the living Martian race died off trapped in this room trying to wait out their metal creations to tire out so to avoid being burned to death. The folly of playing God."

"Deep, but we kind of need to stop this countdown."

"They don't mention the countdown again," answered LaLouf. "I don't know what else to say other than it looks like the dragins did more or less eventually tire out if they're in there now."

"But the countdown will possibly change that," I said, now sweating bullets. I didn't want to know what happened at the end of the countdown- it couldn't be anything good for us.

"Cole," sighed Cleetus, "look for buttons while you are down there. "

"Aren't there any up there?"

"No. Maybe underneath?"

There were none.

"Um, it appears the countdown is almost done," said Dr. Snively, some worry now apparent in his voice.

"We have to stop it!" I exclaimed.

"How?!" answered Cleetus.

But I didn't know. All I could do was swallow hard.