We had no idea what it was, we’d never seen anything like it. We’d found it by accident, after Hurricane Alexander. That storm had flooded the entire coastline. A wall of water had washed into the area below. It wiped the farm town that had been there from the map. It was gone. An entire colony of ant workers, hundreds of thousands of them. Gone. Over 600 butterflies had drowned in their sleep, in their homes.
It had all washed away in a wall of water sixty monarchs high. We’d come to investigate, to search for any survivors, and found nothing.
Except for a polished slab of stone. It wasn’t natural, we knew that immediately. And it was huge. Ten monarchs across by three deep. We’d examined it, studied it, and reported it. They government sent a team to dig it up, find out what it was. That had been six months ago.
We still had no idea what it was, only that it was the size of a building, and solid, polished granite. With strange symbols carved into one side. And it wasn’t alone. We’d found a half dozen of them already, and the search tunnels the ants had dug indicated the area was full of them. There might be hundreds of these building sized stones down there, buried under the dirt.
It was a complete mystery to us. What were they? Where had they come from? Who had made them? How old were they? No one knew. Hell, we didn’t have clue.
The six we’d uncovered were in a rough line. Two had been found face down, for lack of a better way of describing it, with their etchings on the bottom. Fallen buildings. Except, they were solid. Not hollow. Nothing could have lived in them.
The tunnels indicated several lines of the stones existed. They were arranged, side by side. Then, a gap the size of an entire town, and another row. Then another gap, and another row.