Threads of Forgotten Unity

Deep inside a decaying metropolis, a city lost to time and the outside world, there living a people of the dust — small, unperceived by the larger, stronger citizens. They spoke in hushed tones of the day when life was colourful, when the atmosphere was filled with fragrance in the air, when the structures stood like sentinels of existence. And that world was long gone, and all that remained was bits and pieces. They trawled these scraps of the past — the last vestiges of hope.

They had no name for themselves, nor for their existence, for what meaning did names have in a world that had forgotten them?

The tiny amount of light from the very feeble sun through the continuous gray sky was piercing it, only if so they did come out of their underground homes somewhere underneath the city, going through the roads where glass was broken and stone was missing. They moved between shards of glass and crumbling buildings. They were always looking—looking for food, for shelter, for something that might alleviate the constant suffering in their bodies.

But most of all, they were searching for purpose.

Among them was Ash, a quiet figure who had grown used to the silence of the world around them. Ash was one of the smaller ones, agile and clever, with an unmatched ability to find hidden things—old machines, bits of metal, and sometimes, remnants of the life that had been.

Even as a child, Ash was always unique. Others were focused on struggling through another day, while Ash looked up. Unlike them, Ash looked up at the sky and saw the tall, corroded structures towering above. He, during the night, sat all alone while the others fell sleep with roofs over their heads, He gazed at the distance lights. They were the lights Ash had realized it was not the stars that were glowing. It was something else—something unattainable, but time has passed and it is now within Ash's possibility to reconnect with a living thing.

“Why do you do that?” Ash’s companion, Brin, asked one night, sitting beside them. Brin was the only one who didn’t think Ash was strange. Brin understood that they needed to find more than just food and shelter to keep going.“I don’t know,” Ash answered, eyes never leaving the blinking lights. “I guess I’m hoping for something out there. Something that remembers us.”

Brin frowned. “No one remembers us, Ash. The world doesn’t care.”

“I think it does,” Ash said softly. “We just don’t understand it yet.”

During their deepest salvage run Ash and Brin discovered something unexpected. Primitive as it appeared the discarded device hid beneath a combination of drifting dust and discarded materials that transformed it into an enigmatic object of rusted metal.

But there was something different about it.

Ash knelt down, brushing away the grime to reveal a panel covered in blinking lights. This wasn’t like the dead machines they usually found—this one was… alive, in some strange way. Its lights flickered, its circuits hummed faintly.

“What is this?” Brin asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Silence passed between Ash before they finally said "I don't know" as their heartbeat quickened. Pressing the panel button set off a low whirring noise which filled the room. The machine started moving while its worn components made shrill noises. Thawing electromagnetic energy projected text lines that the students were unable to decipher across the holographic display.

“What do you think it does?” Brin asked, their voice hushed with awe.

Ash shook their head. “I think… it’s trying to tell us something.”

Suddenly, a voice—a deep, mechanical voice—spoke from the machine. It was ancient, worn from years of disuse, but still clear enough to understand.

“Protocol activated. Searching for… survivors.”

Ash and Brin exchanged stunned looks.

“Did it just say survivors?” Brin whispered.

The machine started up once more before altering the holographic display. A complex city blueprint materialized on the system's light display despite its outdated comparison with the current urban landscape. The holographic showing displayed the original appearance of the city at a time preceding its destruction. Any walk through time revealed streets cleared of snow while buildings reached toward the sky with brilliant reflective surfaces showing evidence of many living beings.

The map viewed a particular area where an impossible-standing skyscraper located in the city center emerged through the smashed remains of buildings destroyed by the nuclear attack. A bright blue flash showed the location on the display.

“I think it’s showing us something,” Ash said, eyes wide with excitement. “We need to go there.”

“Are you insane?” Brin hissed. “That’s too deep into the city! No one goes that far! The ruins are unstable, and the scavengers—”

“I know,” Ash interrupted. “But what if this is what we’ve been looking for? What if there’s something there—something that can explain why we’re still here, why we’re still alive?”

Brin hesitated, but the fire in Ash’s eyes was undeniable. And so, against their better judgment, they agreed.

Navigation through the city center proved dangerous for all travelers. Broken streets concealed multiple traps due to scavenger activity while forgotten wartime drones occasional patrolled the territory. Through their experience Ash and Brin executed an effective route through the city's dangerous ruins.

The expedition's progress reduced temperatures while larger structures rose in stolid intimidation. The urban surroundings seemed to shrink aroundemics not to reveal secrets hidden deep within its core area. Against all reason Ash kept moving forward because an unidentifiable power called them onward.

They came to a halt in front of the building that the machine's map had displayed to them. Deprived of protection by steel and glass panes it stood as a giant plain structure amidst decay and trauma and remaining secure against the remnants. An enormous door existed at its base while it stood blocked shut.

“What now?” Brin asked, breathless from the climb.

Ash reached the entrance then immediately touched the little ceramic panel next to the door. For a moment, nothing happened. The strengthening rumble of the door revealed a shadowed corridor as it began to move.

They stepped inside.

As the team entered the room the musty air combined with somber darkness until they began making progress and fluorescent blue illumination took them through the passage. The passage ended when they reached a giant room containing one single dark figure which evolved into an ancient yet elegant machine sporting blue glowing eyes.

“Who are you?” Brin whispered, stepping back instinctively.

The machine’s voice boomed through the chamber. “I am the Guardian.”

Ash stepped forward. “What are you guarding?”

When asked about humanity's remaining knowledge the Guardian stated "The last of humanity's knowledge" while it stared directly at Ash. The world's destruction gave rise to our mission to protect the historical record of past civilization. Those who lived before have left behind all their accumulated knowledge for you to discover.

Ash’s heart pounded in their chest. “Why us? Why now?”

For an instant The Guardian's radiant eyes grew dim while he paused. “Because you still seek. You still question. The others… they have forgotten. But you… you remember.”

During that instance Ash discovered the object of their endless quest. Food or shelter or information were not their final destination. Their lives had greater importance than daily survival as they felt hopeful that pieces of their past still persisted.

They weren’t just the forgotten remnants of a dead world.

They were its legacy.