What did it mean?

The hatch was open just a crack. Franks reached out and touched the rusty wheel, but it turned freely, having been broken loose recently. I shuffled out of the way as he lifted it. Hinges screeched in protest and the lid thudded into the wall. Another ladder led down.

“You first,” Franks ordered.

“Why?”

“I’m important.”

“Screw you, Franks. You’re the one with replaceable feet. You go first.” I got tired of looking at my own reflection. “Fine. Jackass.”

I started down. The metal shell was several inches thick. My headlamp illuminated the far wall only a few feet away, with each rung of the ladder casting huge black shadows. This ladder was far more sturdy and the trip much shorter. I reached the floor quickly.

It was a circular space, like standing at the bottom of a metal water tank. I estimated that it was the exact same diameter as the dead spot of desert above. I moved aside as Franks dropped down the last few feet.

Between our two sets of headlamps, the entire room was illuminated. “Cozy.”

There wasn’t much inside. Only a stainless-steel operating table off to one side, bolted to the floor, with some tall metal boxes behind it. I began to shiver uncontrollably. The room wasn’t refrigerated. There seemed to be no power supply. So why did I suddenly feel incredibly cold?

The construction of the boxes seemed old-fashioned, with big plates held together with strips of sheet metal and rivets. One side was open, and the interior was packed with copper wires and glass tubes, the contents of which had long since evaporated. There had been batteries at the bottom, but they had melted into a greenish-white acidic sludge. There were no signs or labels on the machine, but there were a few obvious spots, discolored and free of dust, where nameplates had been torn free and taken away very recently. There was a dusting of brass shavings on the floor, gleaming and new compared to everything around it.

“Looks like your Unicorn pals did some cleaning.”

“They’re not pals,” Franks muttered.

A bundle of wires led from the machine, and I followed it back to the table, where it split apart into dozens of individual strands, each of them terminating in two long needles. They were spread haphazardly around the floor, but it felt like they had all been jammed into a body at one point, from one end of the table to the other. I picked up one wire and examined the end. The tip of the prongs was stained with a dry, black substance. I dropped it, not wanting to find out if it was the sort of thing that would eat through a chemical suit.