At last he found it.

The source of the strange data that made Mars's South Pole nearly impossible to find.

It had taken him years to put together the funding and nearly 25 Sols driving in circles. Issuing instructions to the drones, making a grid in some of the harshest conditions off Earth.

And this was it. This would get him published. More than published. This would get him respect. Make him famous.

No one would call John Rhine a conspiracy theorist again. He wouldn't be relegated to sitting in on parapsychology podcast.

At least, not anymore.

He had found it. Proof of an ancient alien civilization on Mars. A massive cave of steel. At least a hectare acre. Alien hieroglyphics covering the walls. All sweeping up to a giant pedestal at its center.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Unable to resist John Rhine crossed the cave's the massive floor. 

Speechless. And not a man many words. He was struck dumb by its beauty. His head hummed in his helmet.

Who were they? How had they constructed such a thing?

To what purpose?

All of that would come later. Now he needed to get the cameras flying.

Get out the Archeological drones he had commissioned and fully explore and document everything that was here so it would be recorded for all mankind to learn from, to finally improve upon decadence of 'modern civilization' with wisdom from the great lost alien civilization so many before him had quested after for so long.

And as he approached the pedestal, it turned it on. The red sand woke up for the first time since it had perfected life on Mars.

What were these strange things polluting its perfect surface?

Bags of water?

Tests would need to be run. A simulation constructed.  How, HOW could the master design have been so corrupted?