The room was dark, metallic, and cold. Time itself seemed to be frozen in space, the universe holding its breath between moments, only for the peaceful silence to be broken by a low hum. Faint, distant footsteps could be heard approaching, and soon enough the door leading into the room opened. Automatic lights flickered to life as a man entered the room, his gait tired and mournful. The newly lit lights revealed a small office, with a desk dominated by a monitor and keyboard, with various scattered notes on the desk and floor and several groups of sticky notes posted the back wall. The man took a seat, and with shaky fingers re-activated the computer system. The screen turned on at his touch, revealing a recording software waiting for activation. The man took a deep breath, and activated the system. The recording began with relevant log information being displayed:

Recording Activated.

User detected: Dr. Ritter Conns

Password: Accepted

System log:

3.12.1

///()()/////

///(-.-)////

///O_(“)(“)

Solar Calendar:

August 15th 2099

Location:

Site 3, The Bunker

The log-in information soon vanished into the monitor, leaving the black screen momentarily blank before it fizzled to life. A camera box covering most of the screen appeared, bringing the image of the office in a cleaner state alongside the man into focus on the black sea of soulless pixels. The image reflected onscreen showed that of a relatively young-looking man in a tattered white lab coat, blackened by soot and several laser burns clearly from sometime in the past. His apparent youthful appearance was made older by his newly clean-shaven head, which did little to hide the accumulating stressful lines of hardship and loss that appeared to be accumulating on the man’s face. He cleared his throat after a moment before speaking, taking a deep breath.

“System log open, name, Dr. Ritter Conns. I am recording myself as per, oof-” he coughed suddenly before shaking his head. “Apologies. There was a lab accident earlier involving one of the alphas. The doctor would have given me a clean bill of health if I’d waited, I’m sure. It’s merely my nerves and throat that beg to differ, but this is more important.”

Dr. Conns coughed again before continuing, “I am recording myself as per protocol, in this case to sadly report my newly ascended status as lead researcher here at Site 3. The situation has deteriorated once again, I’m sad to say. My former superior who usually makes these reports, Dr. Sistema, will no longer be able to record these logs, and this task among many others, now falls to me.”

The doctor closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “She made sure before she left that everything could, and would, continue without her. Without her sacrifice, the research gained at our sister facility Site 2 would have been lost, alongside their prototypes. Due to radio silence and communication blackouts, we only learned of this today, two weeks after the apparent loss of Site 2. The data arrived via a courier, who I’m sad to report succumbed to her wounds soon after delivering the data into my hands. With this having come to pass, Site 3 now carries the hopes and works for both Site 1 and 2. Unfortunately, it will be some time before we will be able to continue and finish their work, as our own project must take priority.”

The man coughed again, this time spewing up fleck of blood into his hand. He looked down at the droplets of red with a frown, but continued.

“With the loss of Site 1 last year due to enemy ambush, this leaves only Site 3 as the last bastion for Project Bastion, Project Knight, and Project Lighthouse. Thankfully, we have enough resources and survivors to continue all three research paths in the long-run, but supply runs are beginning to drop. I’ve heard word that the civilian government has already begun mass-evacuations from Titan and Lunar Base, and that Earth will soon follow. Genetic profiling has already commenced to separate the best genetic lines for evacuation-”

At this the man scoffed and broke his serious façade. He rubbed his bald head with a sigh.

“Damn bastards, but at least they know it. At least they have the tech to let the computers sort through most of that morbid job. I doubt anyone of us is going to heaven for this, but the fate of the human race as a species has proven itself a solid and unassailable reason in the face of such tragedies. A reduction in bio diversity to minimize negative factors is something no one would have ever imagined we’d have to do, but it has come to this.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The man appeared to visibly aged as he said this, a deep grief on his face along with a determined resolve.

“Regardless, as the loss of Dr. Sistema has left me in charge of the three projects, I’ve ordered as many non-essential personal as I could along with as many genetic line samples as possible to join the evacuation ships if and when the call comes down the chain of command. Everyone else vital to the mission, including me, is staying behind to finish our work. The Lighthouse prototype is almost complete, and if successful will change the fate of our species. The enemy would seem to know this as well, proven with the huge loses they took in destroying Sites 1 and 2 and hampering the progress of Projects Bastion and Project Knight. Though scouts haven’t yet been sighted within our range, it’s only a matter of time given the enemy’s continual progress towards Earth.”

“As such,” the man took a deep breath, “and given the long-range ambush into our territory that resulted in the loss of Site 1, after consulting with the other department heads, we have all agreed that activating the tomb protocol will be done once everyone unneeded is gone. We’ll be taking on as many supplies as we can get with each remaining supply run, and minimizing usage from today onwards. I don’t know who is in charge of the civilian government anymore, but I received their blessing a short while ago, and their gratitude, for whatever value that holds these days.”

The man gave a wry smile and chuckled, coughing at the end. He pulled out a handkerchief and dried his mouth.

“The tomb protocol will activate the seismic generators and release some of the magma from the thermal generators. The resulting seismic shifts will trigger the fault line beneath the facility and ensure Site 3 is buried where no one can find us. Combined with the advanced materials used in construction gained from the initial successes of Project Bastion, and the area’s volcanic activity, we will be well masked from any and all sensors. The decoy base is almost finished, which will serve to support the garrison base nearby. If the enemy do come here searching for us, then they’ll find a hard fight and enough of a target to satisfy their search and destroy needs. Only the leaders of the bases are aware of their role as decoys, and they have sworn to see it through to the end.” The doctor made the sign of the cross. “May God have mercy on those poor souls.”

“In any case,” Dr. Conns continued, having looked up after a short wordless prayer, “We remaining few should have enough supplies and replacement parts after a few more supply drops to continue our work until we expire of old age. Combined with the facility’s fabricating ability, the remaining thermal generators will ensure that the computers and systems remain active even if we should expire early due to accidents, or piss poor luck. We expect to complete work on the Lighthouse alpha prototype codenamed Alpha within a few months to a year. Should the situation remain as it is on the surface, we will deploy Alpha only as a last resort. The prototype will require countless years to properly test before we can move on to Beta, but hopefully-”

A hand appeared from outside the camera’s view as Dr. Conns had another coughing fit, but he waved it away.

“Project Lighthouse will be the culmination of humanity’s technological progress and prowess. Unless forced to activate it early, we will devote all of our remaining time and beyond to ensure it is our savior, and not another destroyer. This facility, once buried, will not resurface for at least a century if the tectonic estimates are to be believed. The enemy may change this plan, we shall have to see and leave it up to God, or whichever deity the others believe in. Steven, that reminds me, add a note for me to add the-”

The image suddenly vibrated and shook as if the recording had been interrupted, the last frame being of Dr. Conns being pulled away by several hands most urgently as the doctor was caught in the final frame coughing up more blood. The finger on the screen slowly rose up from the pause button.

“End playback,” came the older, gruffer voice sitting behind the desk. “Begin new log, standard settings.” As the computer beeped back in confirmation, the screen shifted to that of a live feed. The image of the younger doctor flickered and phased out until a live recording appeared on screen. Dr. Conns compared his current appearance to the old recording. He rubbed his short, white hair with his prosthetic arm and grumbled, “Damn camera adds 10 years no matter how far we’ve come.”

Clicking his tongue, the doctor erased the last few seconds from the recording and restarted it. “Ahem. This is Doctor Conns, lead scientist of Site 3,” he began. “For now, this may be the last recording I think I’ll make for a while. I know I’ve said that for the last several, but this time I believe I’ll be following through on that. Turns out, time tends to fly without the constant presence of a day/night cycle. Now, where did I leave off…”

“Right, status update.” Dr. Conns grunted. “Where were we? Tomb protocol was. . . right, that long ago. Right, right. Ahem. Today was rather special, since Project Lighthouse finally produced a successful Beta prototype. That’s right, we finally overcame the problem with E.I. interaction with memory data storage. Finally, finally…” The doctor shook his head quickly and wiped something away from his face. “Ahem, yes, so with Project Lighthouse prototype Beta having been successfully finished, we will be moving into quality control before beginning work on the next prototype, Gamma. Standard bugs as expected were found In Beta so far, but it performed beyond our initial expectations. Quality control is looking to last as annoyingly long as Alpha’s, but I’m counting this as a success in my book. Some of the guys and gals were happier than I’d seen in years. Couple of the little ones even got to try a sip of ‘adult juice’ for the first time, heh. Get used to the bitterness brats.”

Dr. Conns chuckled softly. “Well, since it became standard to not include vital information in personal logs, guess I can’t say much more. We’ve almost done with what we set out to do, and no matter how many years it’ll take, humanity will have hope. Even if, none of us will be around to see it.” The doctor paused, a look of fatigue washing over him. “Alpha wasn’t wise enough. Beta, it seems so far, only operates with efficiency. I think once we reach Gamma, our final goal will be achieved in full. We can only hope and do our best, then.”

The doctor stared into the camera for several moments before sighing, and turning off the recording.

It would never record again, but no one knew this. Nor did anyone in the facility know of the raging sandstorm above them, slowly wearing away the burnt tree stumps and fallen metal titans that littered the craterous landscape.