At first we didn’t understand it. Then we didn’t want to believe it. Who would? It was the plot of dozens of dime store pulp novels. An ancient antechamber on mars, miles underground. The caverns leading to it. Tunnels created with bone, walls white and decayed. Eyeless sockets peering into you. The stone doors, hundreds of feet high and weighing tonnes. It took years to open it, between transporting the materials to the base and navigating through those damn tunnels. When we finally found it, we thought we were going to be the icons of a new era. We thought we were going to discover a revelation from ancient intelligence. We were so optimistic. I can still see that damned thing. That tablet. All binary, ones and zeroes, everything and nothing. We started translating it, finding the words but not seeing their meaning. A folk legend that had died on the wind before it could be spoken to the young. A last echo though time of an unheard plea. An epitaph to a dead world. “My name is Zata and I am sorry. We were a virus to this world, infecting and decaying everything we thought we could own. We cracked the whip of sovereignty across the freedom of this land, until she was scarred and bloody, torn apart with the scraps thrown to the winner. We relished in our luxury and ignored out souls. We cared little for the wars we waged. Thought nothing of the blackened land and scorched sky. We remade creation in our image. Like us, it took without giving and hurt without remorse. The land became fickle, the clouds parched. Then the heat and dust. We cooked in the light and the sand stung us like broken glass. We dug the black earth and, as vermin do, hid in our holes. Supplies were horded and hidden. Neighbor beat neighbor, brother killed sister, husband devoured wife. We needed order. As God had left us to ourselves we begged the devil. Chaos was regulated and logged. We kept cattle. Barely alive on scraps even we refused. We would harvest arms and legs. And life went on. We built tunnels of the bones and curtains of the flesh. God we even slept in it. Even at our basest, not even our extreme depravity could save us. It only bough us little time. But enough. I was able to smuggle a prototype EVE module. A script for basic mammal DNA. Placed in a capsule and launched to a life supporting planet, it could begin life in a few million years. A few million more and maybe we could start anew. The cost being the planets native life. A fresh start. I sent that capsule. I don't know if we are worthy of a second chance. These tunnels will forever hold my story. What I have seen. Heard. Tasted. I know that I am not worthy to judge us. I give our future to our children. Their future is their choice. Whether they learn to live, or repeat the mistakes of their forefathers. If you have found this my children, I hope you do not follow our footsteps. You have a choice. You do not need to succumb to your hatred. You do not need fear.”