The universe is probably littered with the one-planet graves of cultures which made the sensible economic decision that there’s no good reason to go into space—each discovered, studied, and remembered by the ones who made the irrational decision. – RecklessPrudence
Nobody knew what the natives called it. There were no natives to ask. Whatever had happened on this world had destroyed all but the simplest and toughest of organic life, but left the buildings and infrastructure to be slowly buried by the forces of nature.
If there was anything more frightening than a dead city up close, Quilla couldn’t remember what it was. The knowledge that this was a whole world of dead cities was strictly intellectual. Roaming the actual empty streets and staring into the cavernous depths of echoing and dark buildings was far more visceral.
The whole place set her teeth on edge.
No bodies. Not any more. Scavengers had taken care of that. Statues told her and the other explorers what these people had once looked like.
Quilla stopped at one such monument that had evidently been broken in half by a fallen tree.
“You okay?” asked Enat. They’d been working together on trips like this for years. But this was the first grave-world that they’d encountered.
Quilla gestured at the statue. “I got chills. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair.”
The two of them trudged onwards, looking for some hint of what had occurred. Silent.
Out of respect for the dead.
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