We Went to Pluto For a Space Mission. It is Horrifying Here.

I stared at the holographic projection of Pluto floating in my living room, slowly rotating to reveal the strange structure jutting from its icy surface. The black formation looked like a tooth breaking through pale gums. I reached out, fingers passing through the blue light as I zoomed in on the anomaly. They're calling it the Monolith.

I said, mostly to myself. Though it's not exactly monolithic in structure, the projection highlighted the object's dimensions. 30 meters tall, roughly 15 meters wide at its base, with a surface that appeared unnaturally smooth against Pluto's cratered terrain. The reading suggested it was made of material unlike anything in our geological record. Helen walked up behind me and set a coffee mug on the side table.

You've been looking at that thing for hours. She said, her voice tight despite her attempt at casualness. Can you blame me? I turned the projection with a gesture, examining the structure from another angle. Nothing like this has ever been discovered before.

If it's artificial, that's a big if, Theo. Helen crossed her arms, the sleeves of her oversized sweater bunching at her elbows. The resolution on those images isn't great. It could be a natural formation we don't understand yet. I shook my head.

The preliminary data suggests otherwise. The angles are too precise, the material composition too uniform. I looked up at her. NASA wouldn't be planning a manned mission if they thought it was just an unusual rock. Helen's face tightened.

That's what I wanted to talk to you about. She sat on the arm of the couch, her Hazel eyes fixed on mine. This mission is too dangerous. They're rushing things after what happened on Mars. The mention of Mars sent a chill through me.

The colony disaster had claimed 23 lives just 18 months ago, when the habitat's environmental systems failed during a dust storm. The public outcry had nearly shut down NASA's deep space program entirely. This is different, I said, trying to keep my voice even. We're not establishing a colony. It's reconnaissance, only six months in experimental cryosleep to reach the farthest planet in our solar system to investigate something we know nothing about.

Helen's voice rose slightly. They haven't even tested the long duration cryo sleep on humans yet. You'd be the first. I turned off the projection with a wave of my hand, the room suddenly darker without its blue glow. That's why they need experienced astronauts.

People who understand the risks. People willing to die for discovery, you mean. Helen's words came out sharper than I think she intended. I took her hand, feeling the familiar softness of her skin against mine. This could be the discovery of the century, Helen, Proof we're not alone in the universe.

Or it could be nothing and you'd risk everything for nothing. If it's nothing, then I come back and we laugh about how I flew billions of miles to look at a weird shaped rock. I squeezed her hand. But if it's something? She pulled away, standing up.

If it's something, then what? You go down in history, they name the structure after you, the Doyle monolith. The accusation stung because there was truth in it. The thought had crossed my mind. Being the commander of humanity's first contact mission would cement my place in history books forever.

That's not fair. I said quietly. Helen's shoulders slumped. No, it's not I'm sorry. She looked at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

I just don't want to lose you to the void of space, Theo. Not for a maybe. I stood and pulled her into a hug, feeling her warmth against me. You won't lose me, I promise. But we both knew it was a promise I might not be able to keep.

2 weeks later, I stood on the launchpad beside the Artemis 9 spacecraft as technicians made final checks. Deborah Chen adjusted her flight suit collar beside me, her practical Bob haircut tucked neatly beneath her cap. As our exobiologist, she'd been practically vibrating with excitement since the mission announcement. Beautiful morning for making history, she said.

Gordon Diaz, our flight engineer, grunted in agreement. He was a man of few words but unmatched skill at the controls. His military background showed in his posture, ramrod straight, eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. Let's hope it stays beautiful all the way to Pluto, said Cindy Wright, completing our four person crew. As our mission specialist, she'd been responsible for much of our specialized training over the past months.

Her amber eyes caught the sunlight as she squinted up at the spacecraft. Mission Director Cox approached us with his tablet. His serious expression looked even more severe today. Commander Doyle, he said, extending his hand. I shook it firmly.

The President sends his regards and wishes you a successful mission. Thank you, Sir, I replied. We won't let NASA down. Cox's blue eyes narrowed slightly. I want to remind all of you that this is strictly reconnaissance.

Your primary objective is to determine the nature of the anomaly, collect data, and return safely. Under no circumstances are you to take unnecessary risks. Understood, Sir, I said, though I caught Cindy's barely perceptible eye roll. She'd been pushing for more aggressive exploration parameters since day one. The world will be watching, Cox continued.

The Mars incident is still fresh in people's minds. We need this mission to be flawless. It will be, I assured him, feeling the weight of his words. The unspoken message was clear. Don't make NASA look bad, don't die, and don't waste the billions spent on this mission.

Cox nodded and stepped back. T -, 20 minutes, Commander. Good luck. As he walked away, Gordon leaned in. No pressure or anything.

Deborah laughed softly. Just discover alien technology, solve the mystery of whether we're alone in the universe, and don't screw up easy. I smiled, despite my nerves. One step at a time. First step, Don't blow up during launch.

Always a good first step. Cindy agreed. We made our final equipment checks, then climbed the elevator to the top of the launch tower. I paused at the spacecraft entrance, taking one last look at Earth. Somewhere down there, Helen was watching for Mission Control.

I took a deep breath of fresh air, knowing it would be the last I'd taste until we returned. Then I ducked inside the Artemis 9. The interior was cramped but efficient, every surface covered with controls, screens or storage compartments. We strapped into our acceleration couches, the familiar routine of pre launch checks calming my nerves.

Come check. I said, adjusting my headset loud and clear. Commander. Came the response from Mission Control, All systems nominal. Gordon reported from the pilot station.

Ready for launch sequence. I glanced around at my crew. Deborah gave me a thumbs up, her eyes bright with excitement. Gordon remained focused on his controls, his hands moving with practiced precision. Cindy nodded at me, a small smile playing at her lips.

Artemis neen, ready for launch. I reported. The countdown began, each number bringing us closer to the moment we leave Earth behind. I closed my eyes briefly, picturing Helen's face holding the image in my mind. The engines ignited, shaking the spacecraft.

G forces pressed us back as we accelerated upward, the sky outside darkening to black as we broke through the atmosphere. The vibration rattled my teeth and blurred my vision. I watched the instrument panels as our altitude climbed. 8 minutes of controlled explosion propelled us toward orbit, then suddenly silence. The engines cut off and we were weightless.

We have achieved orbit. Gordon announced, his voice steady. A cheer went up from Deborah and Cindy. I allowed myself a smile as I unstrapped and floated from my couch. Mission Control Artemis Nime is in stable orbit and preparing for transplutonium injection.

I reported. Copy that Artemis you are go for TPI burn in 30 minutes. We moved through the spacecraft, checking systems and preparing for the burn that would send us on our six month journey to Pluto. Outside, Earth curved beneath us. The TPI burn went perfectly, the secondary engines firing for 12 minutes to break us free of Earth's gravitational influence.

When they shut down, we were officially on our way to Pluto, traveling faster than any human craft before us. Well, Cindy said, floating near the main viewport. No turning back now. Not unless you want to get out and push. Gordon replied, the corner of his mouth twitching in what passed for his smile.

We spent the next 24 hours running final checks on all systems, particularly the experimental cryosleep chambers that would preserve us during the long journey. The chambers look like high tech coffins, their interiors lined with sensors and medical equipment. Time to take the longest nap of our lives, Deborah said as we gathered around the chambers on our second day in space.

I nodded, feeling a flutter of apprehension. The cryo sleep technology had been tested extensively on animals and in short duration human trials, but never for a mission of this length. We would be the first. The auto wake sequence is programmed to begin when we're three days from Pluto, I reminded them. But if there's any emergency, the system will revive us immediately.

And if the system fails? Cindy asked, voicing the concern we all shared. I met her gaze steadily. Then we don't wake up. But the alternative is spending six months conscious in this tin can, going slowly mad from boredom and using up our limited supplies.

Gordon tapped the side of his chamber. I'll take my chances with the freezer, thanks. We changed into the specialized body suits designed to protect our skin and monitor our vital functions during cryosleep. The material clung like a second skin, embedded with a network of sensors and temperature regulators. See you on the other side, Deborah said, climbing into her chamber.

1 by 1. We settled into our pods. I went last, watching as each of my crew members was sealed in. Then I lay back in my own chamber, trying to ignore how much it felt like a coffin initiating cryo sleep sequence. I said, my voice sounding strange in the confined space.

The lid lowered slowly, sealing with a soft hiss. The interior lights dimmed to a soft blue glow. I felt the first rush of cold air across my skin, carrying the sweet smelling sedative gas that would ease the transition. I thought about Helen as I grew sleepy. I pictured her smile and laughing eyes.

I hoped she wouldn't worry. During our journey, the temperature dropped rapidly, my breath visible in the air. The chills slowed my heart rate and metabolism as my eyelids grew heavy. The last thing I saw before passing out was the status display showing our arrival at Pluto One on our Haiti days. My last coherent thought was simple.

When I wake up, we'll be making history. Then everything went black. I drifted through blue darkness, suspended between sleep and waking. The structure stood before me again, it's black surface darker than the surrounding void. Blue light pulsed from seams across Pluto's frozen landscape.

The whispers came next, as they always did, unintelligible sounds that weren't quite words or music, but something unsettling in between. Return. One seemed to say, though I couldn't be sure. Inside, maybe another. The voices overlapped, speaking in languages that had never existed on Earth.

I tried to move closer to the structure, but my dream body remained fixed in place. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, until they filled my consciousness completely. Then the blue light flashed, blinding me, and my eyes shot open to the soft beep of the cryo chambers revival sequence. My throat felt raw, my muscles weak.

The chamber's lid slid back with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the cramped interior of the Artemis 9. I blinked against the harsh white light of the ship's systems. Coming back online. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was, who I was. Theo Doyle, mission commander.

We were approaching Pluto, the structure, the monolith. I pulled myself up, fighting against muscles that felt like they hadn't moved in years rather than months. The medical readout on my chamber showed normal vitals, but something felt off. The dreams had been too vivid, too consistent. It was as if I'd been living another life while in cryosleep.

I glanced at the other chambers. Gordon was already up, running system checks at the main console. Deborah's chamber was open, but empty. Cindy was still in the final stages of revival, her eyes fluttering beneath closed lids. Welcome back to the land of the living, Commander.

Gordon said without looking up from his work. His voice sounded rough from disuse. Systems check, almost complete. We're right where we should be, 3 days out from Pluto. I swung my legs over the side of the chamber, testing my weight.

How long have you been up? About 20 minutes. Deborah's in the head. She woke up first. I nodded and reached for the water pouch attached to my chamber.

My throat burned as I swallowed. Any unusual dreams? I asked, trying to sound casual. Gordon's hands paused over the controls. He turned to look at me, his expression guarded.

Yeah, actually. Weird stuff, you 2. Before I could answer, Deborah emerged from the small bathroom compartment, her hair still damp from the Sonic shower. Morning, sunshine, she said to me with a tired smile. Or whatever time it is.

The ship says we've been under for 177 days. Feels longer, I said. Deborah nodded slowly. Much longer. A soft groan came from Cindy's chamber as the lid fully retracted.

She sat up, looking disoriented. Did anyone else have messed up dreams? She asked without preamble. The three of us exchanged glances. What kind of dreams?

I asked. Cindy rubbed her temples, the structure blue light voices I couldn't understand. My stomach dropped. All of you had these dreams? They all nodded.

Same here, Gordon said over and over, the structure glowing blue. Strange whispers. It felt like years, Deborah added quietly. Like I lived an entire life in those dreams. I moved to the command console and pulled up the ship's log.

Any anomalies during cryosleep? Radiation spikes? Anything unusual? Gordon joined me, checking the readouts. Nothing.

Everything reads normal. Cryosystems functioned within expected parameters. Could be a side effect of long term cryosleep. Deborah suggested. Our brains trying to make sense of the minimal input they were receiving.

All having the same dream though? Cindy asked, now fully awake and joining us at the console. That's not normal. I pulled up a new log entry and began recording Commander's log. Day 178.

Crew successfully revived from cryo sleep. All systems nominal. Approaching Pluto. ETA three days. I paused, considering what to add about our shared dreams, then decided against it.

Crew in good physical condition beginning final approach preparations. We closed the log without mentioning the dreams. The others looked at me questioningly. You're not reporting the dreams? Deborah asked.

I shook my head. Not yet. Let's get more data first. If we tell Houston we're all having the same hallucinations, they might abort the mission. Is that such a bad idea?

Cindy asked. This is weird, Theo. We've come too far. I said firmly. Let's complete the mission objectives, gather our data, and then we can report everything once we're headed home.

The others didn't look entirely convinced, but they nodded in agreement. We had all sacrificed too much to turn back now. The next three days we ran systems checks, calibrated landing equipment, and prepared our Eva suits for Pluto. The black structure grew larger in our viewports as we approached. We strapped into our acceleration couches as Gordon took manual control.

Pluto's thin atmosphere and low gravity made landing precisely difficult. Thrusters at 60%, Gordon said. Descent angle looks good. The ship shuttered as we dropped through Pluto's atmosphere. Through the viewport I saw the structure, a massive black tooth jutting from the frozen surface.

500 meters to landing site, Gordon called out. 403 hundred. Another, stronger shutter rocked the ship. Crosswind, Gordon muttered, making adjustments, compensating. The ship tilted, and I thought we might need to abort, but Gordon's hands moved precisely countering each force.

100 meters, he said. 5020 contact light. We landed on Pluto with a bump. Engines shut down, Gordon said. Flipping switches.

We are down to kilometers from the target. The collective breath of relief filled the cabin. We had made it nice flying, I told Gordon, genuinely impressed. The landing had been textbook, despite the challenges. Let's run post landing checks before we suit up.

I said, already unbuckling from my couch. I want to make sure everything's green before we step outside. We spent two hours checking ship systems and preparing our Eva suits. Pluto's extreme cold would freeze oxygen solid, making any suit failure quickly fatal despite our redundant heating systems. Comms check.

I said, my voice slightly muffled inside my helmet. Copy came three voices in sequence. I stood in the airlock, fully suited, with the others behind me in the cabin. As mission commander, I would be first to step onto Pluto's surface, beginning depressurization. I announced, activating the airlock sequence.

The air hissed out around me and the temperature dropped rapidly. My suit compensated, the heating elements working harder when the pressure equalized with the outside. The outer door slid open. I stood at the threshold, looking out at Pluto's surface. The pale plain of frozen nitrogen and methane ice stretched ahead, with the black structure rising in the distance.

I stepped forward onto the frozen nitrogen. It crunched beneath my weight, more solid than expected. Houston, this is Commander Doyle, I transmitted, knowing the message would take about 20 minutes to reach Earth. I am standing on the surface of Pluto. The landing was successful.

We are approximately 2 kilometers from the anomaly. I took another step, testing my balance in the low gravity. The bulky suit required deliberate movements. Surface is frozen nitrogen with methane ice formations. I reported temperature at -231°C.

Visibility good under Karen's light. I turned back toward the ship. Crew is preparing to exit. We will proceed to the structure once everyone is on the surface. 1 by 1.

The others join me, first Gordon, then Deborah, and finally Cindy. We stood together, four tiny figures on the edge of the solar system, looking toward the massive black structure that had brought us here. It's bigger than the images showed, Deborah said quietly, over the calm. Much bigger. Let's move, I said, checking my helmet display.

Standard formation. Maintain visual contact. We began walking toward the structure, leaving tracks in the frozen surface. Each step balance the low gravity that made us almost buoyant against the need to maintain traction. As we drew closer, the structure grew larger and dominating the horizon.

Its surface was smooth and black, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. It matched our shared dreams exactly, except for one thing. There was no blue glow approaching the structure. I reported to Houston, though they wouldn't hear me for 20 minutes. It's 30 meters tall, 15 wide at the base.

Surface is black with no seams or features. We stopped 50 meters from the base. The black structure tapered slightly toward the top, standing out against the pale landscape. An impossible object in this desolate place. It looks just like in the dreams, Cindy whispered over the calm.

None of us disagreed. We stood in silence, four small figures before something ancient and unknowable on the very edge of human exploration. I took a few steps toward the structure, my boots crunching on the frozen nitrogen surface of Pluto. The rest of the crew followed, our movements slow and deliberate in the minimal gravity.

We stopped about 10 feet from the base, all of us staring up at the massive black form. It's even more impressive up close, I said, my voice sounding hollow inside my helmet. The structure towered above us, easily 30 meters tall with a base about 15 meters wide. Its sides were unnaturally smooth, the surface so black it seemed to eat the light from our helmet lamps rather than reflected back in person.

The angles and dimensions looked even more precise than they had in the holographic projections I'd studied for months. Gordon walked a few paces to the right, running a scanner along the base. No detectable radiation or energy signatures. It's just sitting here. This is definitely artificial.

Deborah said, her voice filled with quiet awe as she checked her own readings. The composition analysis shows uniform molecular structure throughout. No natural formation could achieve this level of homogeneity. Anar, how old do you think it is? I asked.

Deborah adjusted something on her scanner. Based on the surface degradation from micro meteorite impacts and the accumulation patterns of space dust, I'd estimate at least three million years, possibly much older. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the extreme cold outside my suit. 3,000,000 years before humans had even evolved.

Commander Cindy called from several meters to my left. You should see this. I moved carefully to join her. She was pointing her light at what appeared to be a seam running vertically up the structure's face. Is that what I think it is?

I asked. Looks like a door to me, Cindy said. See how the material changes slightly along this line, and the geometric precision is unmistakable. The seam was barely visible, a slightly different texture along a perfectly straight line that ran from the ground up about 3 meters. I reached out my gloved hand toward it, drawn by an impulse I couldn't explain.

The moment my fingers got within inches of the surface, a blinding white light flashed across my vision. I stumbled backward, crying out as pain Lance through my head. Commander, what's wrong? Gordon's voice sounded distant. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision.

The white light faded, but instead of seeing the black structure in my team, I saw Helen. She stood right in front of me on Pluto's surface. No spacesuit, just Helen in the same blue sweater she'd been wearing the day I left Earth. Her Auburn hair moved slightly, as though in a gentle breeze that couldn't possibly exist here.

Don't open it, Theo, she said, her voice somehow clear despite the impossibility of sound traveling in Pluto's near vacuum. Helen, how are you? How? I'm not really here, she said, her expression urgent. Not physically.

I'm a message sent back to this moment. A message from where? The future. She nodded. You need to listen carefully.

Whatever's inside this structure, you can't let it out. If you open that door, what's inside will eventually make its way to Earth, and it will destroy everything. What is it? I asked, my mind reeling. I don't know exactly, but it changes people, corrupts them.

By the time we understood what was happening, it was too late. Her image flickered slightly. This is the moment, Theo, the point where everything can change. Don't open the door, take readings, take pictures, but leave it sealed. Theo, can you hear me?

Gordon's voice cut through Helen's words. I blinked and Helen vanished. I was staring at the black structure again, Gordon's hand gripping my shoulder. What happened? You just froze up and started talking to yourself.

He said, concern evident in his voice. I looked around wildly. Did you see her? Did you see Helen? The three of them exchanged glances through their helmet visors.

Your wife, Deborah asked carefully. Commander, there's no one here but us. She was right there, I insisted, pointing to where Helen had stood. She told me not to open it, said it was a message from the future. Your vital spiked a minute ago, Cindy said, checking a readout on her wrist display.

Pulse, blood pressure, brain activity, all off the charts. Maybe the radiation from this object is affecting your perception. What radiation? I asked. Gordon just said there weren't any energy signatures.

None we can detect with our standard equipment. Gordon clarified. But this thing is clearly not natural. Who knows what it might be emitting that our instruments can't pick up? I looked back at the seam in the structure.

Had I hallucinated Helen? It had felt so real. Her voice, her presence, the urgency in her eyes. I think we should conduct more scans before we try to open anything, I said, taking a step back from the structure. If this thing is affecting our mind somehow, Commander, with all due respect, we didn't come all this way just to look at it from a distance.

Cindy said. Our mission parameters include attempting to determine the nature and purpose of the anomaly. Gordon nodded. We've got the sample collection tools. At minimum, we should try to extract a small piece for analysis.

I hesitated, Helen's warning echoing in my mind. Was it real or just some kind of hallucination? The rational part of me knew that my wife couldn't possibly have been standing on Pluto's surface without protection and messages from the future. It sounded absurd. All right, I said reluctantly.

But we proceed with extreme caution. Cindy, run a detailed scan of that seam. Gordon, prepare the sample collection kit, but don't use it until I give the word. Cindy stepped forward with her scanner, running it slowly along the vertical line. The molecular structure changes slightly along this boundary.

It's definitely. She jumped back as the seam suddenly widened, creating a dark opening about a meter wide that extended upward. What did you do? I demanded, heart pounding. Nothing.

Cindy insisted. I was just scanning it. Deborah moved closer, appearing at the opening. It seems to be responding to our technology. The scanner emissions might have triggered some kind of automatic response mechanism.

I stared into the darkness beyond the opening. I couldn't see anything inside, just a black void that seemed to stretch impossibly far. Helen's warning pounded in my head, but so did the voice of reason. We were making history here, the first humans to discover definitive proof of extraterrestrial intelligence. Deborah.

I said, trying to keep my voice steady. What do you make of this? She turned to me, her expression visible through her helmet visor. There was something strange in her eyes, a look I'd never seen before. I've been dreaming of this moment for years, Theo.

She said quietly. Ever since we went into cryosleep. I was struck by another blinding flash Before I could respond to Deborah, this one hit harder, a white hot light that seemed to burn through my eyes and into my brain. I staggered back, my boots sliding on Pluto's frozen surface as pain lanced through my skull.

Commander Gordon's voice sounded distant through the calm. Your vitals are spiking again. But I couldn't answer. The white light faded, replaced by something worse. The structure in front of us changed.

Its surface seemed to fold inward, revealing impossible angles that hurt to look at, corners that bent in ways that shouldn't exist in three-dimensional space. The blackness inside wasn't empty at all. Things moved within it. Not creatures, not anything I could describe with words from our language. They were masses of shifting parts, flowing and reforming, with too many limbs that bent backward and forward simultaneously.

I watched in horror as one of these things reached out toward what looked like Cindy. Her scream cut through my helmet, speakers high and terrified, before choking off abruptly. The thing didn't grab her. It passed through her and she changed, her body twisting as though being remolded from the inside. No, I tried to move to help her, but I was frozen in place.

Gordon ran toward her, but another shape emerged, this one like smoke with too many eyes wrapping around him. I heard his scream next, raw and primal. Deborah stood motionless, watching it all with that same strange look in her eyes. They're here, she whispered. They've always been here.

Something cold touched my mind then. Not physical, but a presence alien and vast and pushed against my thoughts, trying to get in, to take root. I felt it searching, probing, looking for a way past my defenses. Get out, I gasped, clutching my helmet. Get out of my head.

The pressure increased and I felt myself falling. The last thing I saw was the black structure, now pulsing with that same blue light from our dreams. Then nothing. I woke to the familiar hum of the Artemis 9's life support systems. My vision cleared slowly, revealing the curved ceiling of the medical Bay.

I tried to move, only to find myself strapped to the bed. He's awake. Deborah's voice came from somewhere to my left. I turned my head, wincing at the dull ache that radiated from the base of my skull. Deborah stood over me, checking readings on a medical tablet.

She looked normal, professional, focused, nothing like the strange expression I'd seen on her face by the structure. What happened? My voice came out raspy, my throat dry. You had some kind of seizure after we collected the sample, she said, placing the tablet down and reaching for a water pouch. She held it to my lips and I drank greedily.

You've been unconscious for three days. We were getting worried. Three days? That couldn't be right. The structure.

Did we go inside? Deborah's eyebrows pulled together. No, you specifically ordered us not to. Don't you remember you said we should only take external samples? I tried to sort through my jumbled memories, but everything after seeing that strange look on Deborah's face was a confused mess of horrific images and sensations.

The sample? I said. We got a sample. A small fragment, Gordon confirmed, entering the medical Bay with Cindy close behind. Both looked tired, but unharmed.

Nothing like the twisted versions from my vision. It's sealed in containment in the cargo hold. Cindy stepped forward. The structure reacted when we extracted it started emitting strange radiation patterns. You ordered immediate evacuation, then collapsed right as we were leaving.

We followed emergency protocols and launched as soon as we got you back to the ship, Gordon added. We're already on our return trajectory to Earth. I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. So we never opened the door? There was no door, Commander Cindy said, exchanging a concerned glance with the others.

Just a small section where the molecular structure seemed slightly different. That's where we took the sample from. You should rest, Deborah said, adjusting my IV. The medical AI suggests your seizure might have been caused by radiation exposure. Despite our suits protection.

We've been monitoring you closely. Can you undo these straps? I asked. Sorry about those, Gordon said as he loosened the restraints. You were thrashing pretty badly during the first day.

We were afraid you'd hurt yourself. Once freed. I sat up slowly, feeling dizzy. I need to see the mission footage. That can wait until Deborah started now, I insisted.

Please. Over the next few days, I reviewed every second of footage from our Eva Suits cameras. The video showed a completely different mission than what I remembered. There I was, confidently directing the team to take samples from the exterior of the structure. No internal exploration, my recorded voice said firmly.

Houston was clear about that external analysis. Only the footage showed Cindy using a specialized tool to extract a small fragment from the monolith surface. As soon as the sample separated, the structure's surface rippled slightly and our radiation detectors went crazy. Everyone back to the ship now. I heard myself order on the recording.

The team turned and began moving quickly toward the Artemis. The camera on my suit showed the horizon tilting as I stumbled, then went dark as I apparently collapsed. The next footage showed Gordon and Cindy carrying me back to the ship while Deborah ran ahead to prepare the medical Bay. I watched it all multiple times, looking for any sign of the visions I'd experienced or the strange conversation with Deborah about dreaming of this moment.

There was nothing. No door opening, no creatures, no screams. Just a routine sample collection followed by a medical emergency. Finding what you need? Cindy asked, floating into the command module where I'd set up the footage review.

Not exactly, I admitted, pausing the video. My memory of what happened doesn't match this at all. She settled into the seat next to mine. Deborah says that's not uncommon with seizures. Your brain was misfiring, creating false memories.

These don't feel like false memories, I said. They feel real. What do you remember? She asked. I hesitated.

If I told her everything, would you think I was losing my mind? Would Houston ground me permanently when we got back? It's complicated, I finally said. I remember the structure opening somehow. I remember seeing things inside it.

Cindy looked troubled. There was no opening, Commander. I was right there the whole time. I know the footage is clear. I rubbed my temples.

But it doesn't explain why we all had the same dream during cryosleep, or why that dream showed the structure with a blue light. The same blue light I saw in my, whatever it was, hallucination vision. I don't know, Maybe the sample will provide some answers, She suggested. It's the first confirmed extraterrestrial technology we've ever found.

Who knows what it might be capable of? I nodded, but a chill ran through me at her words. The sample. We'd brought a piece of that thing back with us. Have you noticed anything unusual about it?

I asked. Other than its impossible molecular structure and the fact that it absorbs all wavelengths of light without reflecting anything back? No, nothing unusual at all. She said with a small smile. I didn't smile back.

Something about this whole situation felt wrong. Had I really ordered them not to enter the structure? Or had something happened, something real that wasn't on any of our recordings? I remembered Helen's warning in my first vision. Was that real?

Had something from the future reached back to warn me? Or was my mind creating elaborate scenarios to deal with the stress of the mission? I closed the video files and pulled up the data on our sample instead. Whatever the truth was, that small black fragment in our cargo hold might hold the answers.

I just hoped we hadn't made a terrible mistake bringing it back with us. I sat in the living room of our Houston home, watching Helen move around the kitchen with practice deficiency. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air as she chopped vegetables for dinner. Six months had passed since our return from Pluto, but sometimes it felt like I'd never left that frozen surface.

Need any help? I asked, knowing she'd refuse. Almost done. Helen replied, sliding diced onions into a sizzling pan. Just relax, you've been working all week.

Working wasn't quite the right word. I'd spent most of my time answering the same questions over and over for different specialists at NASA. What did I remember? What did I see? How did I feel now?

The fragment we brought back from the structure had become the most studied object on Earth, locked away in NASA's highest security facility, where only a handful of scientists had clearance to examine it. From what I'd heard, those scientists were completely bewildered. The sample had impossible properties. It absorbed all energy directed at it without heating up or changing in any way.

More disturbing were the reports that it occasionally emitted patterns that some researchers believed might be communication attempts. No one could decode them, but the patterns were too regular to be random. They're holding another press conference tomorrow, Helen said, glancing at me over her shoulder. Liam called. He wants you there.

I nodded but didn't respond. These press conferences had become routine, carefully scripted events where we revealed nothing while pretending to share everything. The public knew we'd found an artificial structure and brought back a sample. They didn't know about our shared dreams during cryo sleep or my episode on Pluto's surface. NASA's psych team had cleared me months ago.

My official file stated that I'd experienced a stress induced hallucination combined with radiation exposure from the structure. A perfectly reasonable explanation that everyone seemed comfortable accepting. Everyone except me. You're thinking about it again, Helen said, turning down the heat on the stove before walking over to join me on the couch. She tucked her legs underneath her and studied my face.

I can always tell. Sorry. I said, trying to smile hard, to turn it off. You don't need to apologize. I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt that same disorienting double vision I'd experienced so many times since returning.

The Helen sitting beside me, warm and real, overlapped with a Helen I'd seen standing on Pluto's surface without a space suit, warning me about something terrible. I still believe something more happened up there. I said quietly, something the cameras didn't catch, something beyond a simple hallucination. Helen didn't immediately dismiss me like she had during our first weeks back.

She'd grown more willing to listen, even if she didn't fully believe the dreams we all shared during cryosleep. I continued. The vision I had of you on the surface, They're connected somehow. I can't shake the feeling that whatever warning I received, whether from the real you somehow reaching across space or something else using your image, saved me from something terrible.

Saved all of you? Helen corrected gently. Maybe. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. But what if we brought the danger back with us?

Anyway? That sample something wanted us to open that door, Helen. And something else warned me not to. The door never opened, Theo, the footage showed. I know what the footage showed.

I said, more sharply than I intended. I soften my voice. But what if that's not what really happened? What if something altered our perception, or the recordings? What if we brought back something dangerous?

Helen reached for my hand and squeezed it. Her palm was warm against mine, anchoring me to the present. The sample is contained. The best minds on the planet are studying it. If there's any danger, they'll find it.

I wanted to believe her, but at night, when the house was quiet and Helen was asleep beside me, I still heard those whispers from our cryo sleep dreams, unintelligible words and voices that weren't human speaking directly into my mind. And lately, I've noticed something that I hadn't told anyone, not even Helen. The voices were getting louder.

You're right, I said, squeezing her hand back. I'm sure everything's fine. Helen studied my face for a moment longer, then stood up. Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you set the table?

I nodded and got to my feet, following her into the kitchen. As I pulled plates from the cabinet, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. For just a second, I thought I saw something dark moving behind my eyes, something that didn't belong there. I blinked and it was gone, but the whispers remained a constant background noise that only I could hear, growing more insistent with each passing day.