Professor John Nash and his team continued their excavations across the former lands of the Maya civilization, guided by a simple belief: the best citizen is the one who performs his duties with excellence. Their work was driven by a restless hope—to uncover answers to the questions that had haunted humankind since its earliest days.

Among the relics scattered throughout the region, there was an inscription depicting a figure believed to be extraterrestrial, steering a vessel that resembled a spacecraft. To them, this was not merely an archaeological curiosity, but a possible cornerstone for the theory that life had come from beyond the stars. For that reason, every grain of soil they unearthed felt heavier than any ordinary excavation.

Other inscriptions told of a visitor who had come from a distant realm to save the people, and of the possibility that this salvation could one day return. Because of this belief, the Spanish explorers who set foot on the continent were not seen as enemies, but as deliverers.
Yet when they finally realized that the foreigners from the Old World were not their saviors but their catastrophe, it was already too late. After tragedies measured in millions of deaths, survival itself became a grim fate, and those who remained were condemned to live as slaves upon their own land.

Among the discoveries were the manuscripts known as the Chilam Balam books, pale and trembling witnesses that chronicled both the brutality of those days and the torment endured by the survivors.

"Once, their stomachs did not ache. Once, they suffered no seizures. Once, humanity walked a straight path—until the strangers came, and everything changed."

John cared nothing for the sociological or moral dimensions of these horrors. His obsession lay elsewhere: whether this civilization had truly encountered beings that were not human, thousands of years ago—extraterrestrials, or something beyond comprehension.

The answer he had long awaited finally arrived through the voice of his assistant, Kathy.

"Professor, we cleared the soil from the cave exactly as you instructed. And the carbon test results on the skull have arrived."

John had instructed his team to conduct excavations in various locations across the lands once inhabited by the ancient civilization. To understand which site his assistant was referring to, he asked:

"You must be talking about the cave where we believe the ceiling collapsed and filled it with soil—the one next to the tomb on the hill?"

"Yes, sir. It seems our assumption was correct. The cave must have been suddenly flooded with earth, because the skull and vertebrae we found were not parallel to the ground, but vertical. The victim died standing upright, buried abruptly beneath a mass of soil. And according to the carbon test, the fossil is ten thousand years old."

"So, are we sure the fossil belongs to a human?" John asked, smiling beneath his mustache.

His assistant returned the same smile.

"The DNA analysis is in. It is human," she said, tilting her head slightly, and added,
"To be clearer—no extraterrestrial or intermediary species yet, but we did find two distinct drawings on the cave wall that we believe are scientifically important."

"Every drawing is valuable, especially if it helps us understand the perceptions and values of ancient times. Yes, drawings, paintings… they are projections of human imagination. For that reason, we cannot claim that everything depicted in the cave truly happened or was actually witnessed. Yet, we cannot deny that there is always a trace of reality hidden within."

Driven by the hope of having discovered something unknown—and by the pulse of a heart pounding with anticipation—John set out immediately.

The cave was located some distance from the ancient city, perched on the edge of a cliff. The fact that the cave lay outside the city—or that the city was built away from the cave—could imply many things. The first possibility that came to John’s mind was that the ruler of that era had used the cave to conduct secret affairs, hidden from the people.

The entrance being accessible only from the cliffside, concealed by tall and dense plants, and trees that seemed to lean toward one another as if veiling the place—these details strengthened the suspicion. Even though it was known that the present trees did not exist thousands of years ago, the region’s humidity suggested that ancient vegetation—towering plants and dense foliage—could easily have existed there.

Observing the surroundings carefully, John noticed that a yellow, rose-like plant encircled the cave for several hundred meters. This anomaly might have been coincidence, superstition, or the result of a chemical substance seeping from the cave. Before the professor could voice the thought, his assistant spoke:

“This plant is not native to the region’s ecological structure. Based on written sources, the area’s ecological state has remained unchanged for thousands of years. So we can assume that the plant was brought from elsewhere and planted here intentionally—perhaps for a specific purpose.”

“All right, let’s assume this strange green plant with small yellow blossoms was brought here long ago,” Professor Nash said, then added, “But why? What makes it different from the others?”

“It has a very distinct trait,” his assistant replied.
“It releases a heavy, foul odor. The local people believe the smell attracts malevolent spirits trapped between this world and the next. Some of the tablets we found earlier support that idea.”

“Yes, I remember that tablet, and now I remember this plant too. We even discussed how this belief echoes certain Christian doctrines—where an angel descended to Earth, disobeyed God's command, and was cursed. And how the spirits that followed this angel were neither accepted into the afterlife, nor allowed to return to Earth, left suspended in a kind of limbo.”
He paused, letting the thought breathe.
“So you’re saying that the beliefs surrounding this yellow-flowered plant, combined with the cave’s position on the edge of a cliff, made this place one they avoided.”

“Exactly,” the assistant answered.

“Of course,” John continued, “the more practical reason no one found the cave was simply because the ceiling collapsed and buried it.”

After examining the entrance one last time, he raised his left eyebrow and asked,
“Are you sure you want to go in? If the locals are right and there are wicked spirits inside… no one likes an uninvited guest in their home. I’d rather not be struck down by something unseen.”

Kathy recognized the theatrical fear in his eyes. With a faint smile, she replied,
“Since nothing happened to me or the workers, I’m inclined to believe the hosts won’t harm you either.”

“A clever answer,” the professor murmured, narrowing his gaze toward the cave’s entrance.
“The stones at the entrance are cut too precisely, almost like a doorway. That suggests this place was once used by the ruling authority. If rebels had used it as a hideout, the stones would not have been shaped with such perfection. So the idea you mentioned earlier—this being an important center concealed from the public—seems entirely plausible.”

What John truly wanted to tell Kathy was that they should not behave like certain fossil researchers, forcing mystical interpretations onto every discovery simply to fabricate the illusion of uncovering a hidden, enigmatic world. He had no intention of slipping into that kind of intellectual self-deception.

Yet the moment John stepped inside and saw the two large drawings on the wall in front of him, his resolve wavered. His first reaction was to raise a hand to his mouth in disbelief, then he whispered:

“My God… it’s as if these drawings are trying to tell us something monumental.”

He stepped closer, stopping before them. The drawing on the left was faint—its details eroded by time. What could be seen suggested several figures, human in form. Judging from their facial expressions, none of them appeared content. Something was unsettling them. Many of the faces were blurred, but one individual had narrowed eyes, as though trying to focus on something. Yet whatever he gazed upon had faded from the wall, leaving only the gesture, not its meaning.

John noticed an arrow beside the left drawing and said:

“As far as I can tell, these people are distressed, but I can’t decipher what the arrow is trying to convey.”

He turned to the second image on the right. It was clearer, almost simplistic. A jagged, uneven line split the drawing in two. Above that line, small and large identical shapes were scattered. John leaned back slightly, studying from a distance, then spoke with certainty:

“This isn’t difficult. They’re all fish.”

“Yes, professor,” Kathy interjected.
“So the area above the jagged line represents the sea containing those fish.”

But the most curious part of the drawing lay beneath the uneven line.
At the bottom of the image rested two oval forms.
John pointed at them and declared:

“These are eggs.”

Kathy smirked and asked,
“What kind of eggs? I’d say ostrich eggs, but that wouldn’t make much sense—since when the explorers first arrived here, there were no ostriches, nor any domestic animals of that kind.”

“What other creature could these eggs belong to? Go on—guess,” Professor Nash said with a faint smile.
“And no, I don’t mean a chicken or a bird.”

Kathy lowered her head slightly and narrowed her eyes, thinking.
“Could it be a dinosaur egg?”

Professor Nash shrugged.
“Why not? I can’t think of any other egg that would be significant enough to draw on a wall. But then again, dinosaur eggs may not have meant anything to ancient people. Besides, the prevailing theory is that humans and dinosaurs did not live in the same era.”

For a while, the two scientists studied the drawings, letting a storm of possibilities tear through the neurons of their minds, searching for the most reasonable interpretation. The professor was certain that the presence of fish meant the upper side of the jagged line represented a body of water—sea, lake, or ocean. Therefore, the lower side, where the two eggs were drawn, must have indicated land.

They scrutinized the indentations and protrusions along the line where water met earth.
The professor’s thoughts wandered in the same crooked path as the line itself.
Then, with a subtle smile suggesting triumph, he turned to Kathy and said:

“Do you remember? Last year, scientists from several nations formed a research group and planned an expedition to Antarctica.”

“Yes,” Kathy replied. “But even though the scientists agreed, the governments got caught up in political theatrics and tried to divide the land, so the consortium fell apart.”
She looked at him as if to ask, And how is that relevant now?
“What exactly are you implying?”

“I’m implying quite a lot,” Professor Nash said.
“Compare the jagged line in the drawing to the coastline of Antarctica. You’ll see there is no difference. And the faint white pigment—barely visible—clearly represents Antarctica’s ice and snow.”

Kathy fell silent, filtering the drawings through her mind, and reluctantly admitted that the professor might be right. Then she voiced the wild thought forming inside her:

“You know how, for a long time, scientists searched for mammoth fossils in Siberia. Even though mammoths were mammals, researchers still hoped to find an unspoiled egg from that era. It would have been like freezing embryos today—preserving life. They believed the Siberian cold might have acted as a natural protector of the egg.”

“So are you suggesting they were looking for the right thing… in the wrong place?”

“Yes. If those researchers had conducted their investigations in Antarctica, perhaps they would have found two eggs—just as this drawing suggests. Of course, we still cannot be certain that these are truly eggs, nor that they were ever located in Antarctica. The drawing may be symbolic… or entirely imagined.”

“But I believe whoever made this drawing knew something—and intended to communicate something important. Because as you said, every contour, every curve mirrors Antarctica. Yet as far as I know, the White Continent wasn’t discovered until the nineteenth century by the Russian Imperial Navy. So how could someone, thousands of years earlier, depict it with such clarity?”

“I have a question,” Professor Nash interrupted.
“You said the creator of this drawing couldn’t have been an ordinary individual. So what if this being thought like the researchers in Siberia? What if, to prevent the eggs from decaying, it intentionally left them in Antarctica? I say ‘being’ because a primitive cave-dweller could not produce a drawing—no, a map—of such significance with this level of precision, as if marking the location of a treasure.”

“So, you’re saying we finally found tangible evidence left behind by an extraterrestrial?”

“Who knows—perhaps yes, perhaps no,” Nash replied.
Then, suddenly, his expression soured, his face tightening with a darker thought.

“What haunts me is another question—one I’ve never been able to answer. Why are there no bears in Antarctica? You know that the literal meaning of ‘Antarctica’ is ‘without bears.’ Apart from a few penguins and seals, why has the region supported only a scarce number of animals for thousands of years? In contrast, Siberia—despite similar temperatures—supports polar bears and a wider variety of species.”

“So how can we argue that dinosaurs once lived there and left their eggs behind?”

“Yes, explaining this paradox is difficult. I can’t say with certainty, but consider this possibility.”
He took a breath, as if stepping into forbidden territory.

“You know Earth’s magnetic field is rapidly weakening. Changing magnetic resonance suggests that the poles may shift. According to geophysicists, in Earth’s 4.5-billion-year history, this phenomenon has occurred more than ten times. North became south, south became north—and these reversals happened swiftly, abruptly. So imagine this: a dinosaur lays its egg, and suddenly, due to the pole reversal, the creature finds itself trapped in the severe climate of the southern hemisphere. It cannot survive, and it dies. The species perishes in the harsh conditions—but the eggs remain. This might explain the drawing in Antarctica… but it does not explain who made it, or why.”

He raised his hands slightly, as though admitting the limits of his own speculation.

Kathy grinned and delivered her final thought:
“Who knows—maybe one egg held a female, and the other a male dinosaur.”

“Anyway, let’s keep the egg hypothesis in mind, though we’re far from certain,” John said, scratching beneath his chin.
“We should inform the scientific research corporation sponsoring the excavation. I hope they’ll do exactly what I expect.”

Before he could finish, a sudden burst of applause echoed from behind them.

“Congratulations, professor. I heard everything you just said,” a voice declared.
“I understand how important these drawings could be, and how they might even connect to the extraterrestrial question. I would’ve preferred it if you had found alien eggs instead of dinosaur eggs, though. After all, thanks to the Jurassic Park films, we already know dinosaurs are just mindless, mute monsters that attack anything in sight. But aliens? From them, we might learn extraordinary technologies.”

He laughed, then added:
“Just like how we learned to build stealth aircraft that don’t show up on radar.”

Professor Nash immediately recognized the man was referencing the wild conspiracy theories that claimed stealth aircraft technology was learned from aliens.
But before he could ask who this stranger was, the man introduced himself:

“I am Donald Ramsey, the director of the company you mentioned.”

John and Kathy exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions betraying their astonishment.

“How did you know about the cave and our discovery? Were you watching us the whole time?”

Donald gave him a mocking, almost playful stare and replied:
“Not just you. We monitor every research project we fund—more precisely, every endeavor that might shape the fate of the world. We have no idea what our future depends on. Perhaps a cave drawing, perhaps a fossil we assume is ordinary, perhaps DNA, unicellular organisms, or a breakthrough in the nervous system.”

Kathy extended her hand to greet him.

“I know your company funds research in various fields. If this were a medical project, I’d assume you had a pharmaceutical giant behind you, manipulating discoveries for profit. But what interest could you possibly have in a cave drawing?”

Donald glanced sideways at his bodyguard and made a subtle gesture. The large, imposing man ordered the workers out of the cave and signaled the other guards to wait outside. Within moments, only three people remained in the cavern: Professor Nash, Kathy, and Donald.

Though Donald was technically the highest-ranking figure here, John bristled with anger at seeing his team dismissed without permission. His brows knotted in restrained fury.

“Who do you think you are? What kind of disrespect is this?”

The man remained unfazed by John’s indignation.

“When I joked earlier, it was only for the benefit of the workers—so it sounded like I was talking about tabloid science. But as you’ve already guessed, our organization isn’t an ordinary scientific research group. I am not officially a CIA operative, but—for now—that is the identity I must be known by. The agency I serve aims to uncover the mysteries behind every anomalous or supernatural phenomenon on the planet… and to use that knowledge in America’s interest.

Discoveries can emerge from any field, and to avoid frightening scientists, we conduct operations through front companies. We cannot simply tell them, ‘You are our agents.’”

John replied sharply:
“We are only trying to unravel the mysteries of the past. We are not involved in geopolitical games or ideological battles.”

He moved toward the exit, only to see the suited operative casually stepping into his path, blocking it. Without a word, his posture said: You don’t leave unless I allow it.

Kathy understood immediately that Donald would not hesitate to use force or intimidation.

“What do you want from us?” she asked.

“I’m just doing my job. Please try to understand,” he said, attempting to soften the tension before continuing:

“We cannot announce this discovery to the public until we fully understand the mystery of the cave and the drawings. Nothing here must be shown or described to anyone. The workers you saw, the technicians, the support crew—they are not ordinary people. Each has some connection to the organization, though they only know what we want them to know. That is why I asked them to leave.

I’m sorry, but I cannot trust that you won’t leak these drawings. Therefore, we’ll be staying together.”

He lifted his phone and took photos of the drawings, thinking privately: Now no one but me will ever see them.

John’s voice trembled with anger.
“This is banditry. We’ll report you to the authorities. There are laws—there is order.”

“Yes, there are laws,” Donald said, “but there are also those who stand above them. Presidents come and go, political parties rise and fall, but what people call ‘deep America’—what is in truth the skeletal structure of the state—remains unchanged.

Suppose you somehow escape from here. Maybe you die in a plane crash. Maybe your car’s digital brake system malfunctions and you suffer a fatal accident. Or perhaps a chemical in your drinking water drives you mad, and you end up committed to a psychiatric hospital.

In that case, who would believe the ramblings of an insane scientist? Even if you spoke of cave drawings, no one would connect your death to them. To the world, it would be nothing more than coincidence.”

He paused, then added with unsettling candor:
“Even we are not certain whether these drawings are valuable. But we cannot ignore the possibility that they might be.”

“We can’t live the rest of our lives under your surveillance,” Nash protested. “And as you said, there isn’t even a concrete discovery yet.”

Donald held his gaze steady, the look of a man accustomed to absolute authority.

“Yes, you’re right. Which is why the best course of action—for all of us—is to go to Antarctica at once and retrieve the eggs clearly indicated in the drawing. And I’m certain that you, as scientists, want to go there just as much as I do.”

Fear and hesitation flickered in the eyes of Nash and Kathy. They were convinced something would eventually go wrong.

“You can’t cover everything up. For example, how will you hide the cave? This isn’t American soil, you can’t control everything.”

Donald shrugged, as if the problem were trivial.

“There is no door that money cannot open—or close. If we claim we will restore this place for tourism under your government’s name, no one will suspect anything. A few bribes to the right officials, and it’s done. Considering restorations can take months, even years, we’ll have all the time we need. We’ve used this method successfully in every country we operate in.”

The professor tried to push his luck further.

“We can’t just dig anywhere we like in Antarctica,” Nash argued.
“According to the latest international agreement, nothing can be done there without approval from the international scientific council responsible for the continent.”

“For this mission, the scientific team has already been assembled,” Donald replied calmly.
“Chinese, Japanese, British, Danish, and Turkish researchers are part of it. And the council has already granted authorization. In fact, before coming here, we assumed you wouldn’t disappoint us—and decided that you would represent our country.”

Professor Nash immediately caught the hidden threat in Donald’s polite phrasing. Still, he made one last attempt at resistance.

“How are we supposed to work alongside the Chinese?”

“You yourself said it earlier—we are scientists, not statesmen.”
Donald’s eyes gleamed with a sly, predatory confidence.
“And rest assured, your Chinese colleagues are just as eager to serve our nation’s interests as you are.”

Nash and Kathy instantly understood: Donald had the Chinese researchers under control as well—whether by threat, money, or promises of power. The thought of this circulated wordlessly between them. And when they considered the kind of offer he could make—authority, prestige, a vast sum of money—the earlier hesitation in their eyes shifted.

It transformed into something darker: the familiar hunger for status, and the quiet acceptance of a fate they could no longer refuse.