June 3rd, 1921
I do not know where to begin…
I had such hopes for this trip… Such hopes for our reunion. Somewhere in my soul, I knew it was possible, perhaps even likely that it would not go well. Margaret was always a strong willed girl. Too smart for her own good. Truthfully, though I quietly hoped I might bring her home with me I had my doubts that she would ever come and I had made my peace with that. To see her again after all this time… It would’ve been enough for me. To know that my little girl was okay would’ve been enough. But I never could have expected this. Not even in my darkest nightmares.
I had arrived at her cottage outside of town, just past the edge of the woods near evening. I knocked on the door and waited in the hopes that she might answer. But the house was quiet. The lights were on but she wasn’t there. After a bit of waiting I tried the door and found it unlocked.
Her home reminded me of her old bedroom… Organized and yet calamitious at the same time. Papers spread everywhere with endless scrawlings upon them. She had been busy… And quite recently, it seemed. Yet past all of her old notes there was something else. A stink. One I recognized too well. I know the smell of death… And I immediately came to fear for the worst as I searched for its source.
I found a door to her cellar ajar and noticed the smell seemed all the more stronger from there. Of course, I followed it, dreading the sight I might see…
What awaited me was worse than what my imagination could have conjured, however. I had at least expected a body. Instead… It seemed as if I’d walked into a butchers shop. Blood stained the floor and ragged lumps of silverish meat seemed strewn about, most of them already crawling with maggots. But that was the only thing I saw.
Pieces of flesh… But no clear source. Something had been butchered here. An animal, perhaps? But this meat looked like it belonged to no animal I’d ever seen…
Searching around the cellar, I only found strange pieces of iron. Part of some machine, I think. No doubt something Margaret had been tinkering with. But little else of note save for this.
I found this letter waiting on a table by a dying fireplace. It had no name written on it, but I suspected it had been left there for me.
I was correct. The letter Margaret had left for me… Her goodbye… Read as follows.
Pa.
I’m sorry it had to end this way. I know that it’s probably too late for an apology, and that it’s quite possible that there is no apology I can give to take away the pain you’ll no doubt feel when you discover me. But you must understand that what I did was necessary. This was the only option I had. The only option you left me with.
Now, please don’t mistake my tone for one of disdain. While you may think otherwise, I never hated you or Ma. Not for an instant. There is no room in my life for disdain or hatred. I know what you expected of me. What you were taught that any good parent should expect.
However, you must understand that the future you wanted for me… It never would have suited me. I have a far greater purpose than spend my life a farmers wife, raising his children and growing old by his side. There is no room in my life for love, just as there is no room for hate.
You once said that I was born with a gift… A mind unlike any you’d seen before and while I despise boasting, I know in my heart that you were right. I’ve always tried to put my mind to a good use. Like streamlining your irrigation systems when I was 12 years old, or some of the improvements I made to the tools over the years to help them work a little more efficiently. I did what I could to help the family. Even what I did in my off hours, the books I read, the things I took apart and put back together… It was all for the family.
It was all for you. But the world is so much bigger than just the family…
Do you recall the day they found that cavern in the Copper Lake Mine? Some of the men had chipped through the rock and there it was… A whole chamber carved into the stone, untouched by man for Lord only knows how long.
I recall the way people had talked about it. It wasn’t anything natural, they’d said. In fact they were quite sure they’d never seen anything like it.
They were right. They hadn’t.
Naturally, folks had to see it. That’s what people do when they find something new and unique. They flock to it, trample all over it and gawk. I suppose I was no different… I begged you to take me to see it and you’d agreed.
I don’t think you realized the effect it would have on me. I don’t think I realized it either. That cavern… Do you remember the beauty of it? The impossible flawlessness of it? Carved so perfectly into the rock and yet it felt almost natural, despite the fact that there was no way it ever could have been. It was surreal. Alien almost. Like something out of a dream.
That was enough for most folks… Witnessing the spectacle. Gawking at it. But me? I had to understand it. These things don’t just happen. Structures like this don’t just appear in the world. They are made. Some folks understood that and questioned it. But that was where they stopped. I was never too keen on leaving a question unanswered. And I had to know who made it.
And I found out.
I know you were never thrilled about my other little expeditions to the Copper Lake Mine, but they were necessary. There was so much to learn, so much to see… And too many people gawking at it all. I suppose I’m lucky I found anything at all.
The stone walls were not quite perfect. They were smooth but not immaculately so. There were groves and ridges in them, although they did not feel as if they’d been made by any tool. Not any tool I was aware of, at least. I spent hours studying them… And even now, all these years later I doubt I learned all I could from them. But I learned enough.
There was likely little purpose in those groves beyond an aesthetic one. But I always found it a strange aesthetic choice. Why put in so much effort into something so meaningless? It made little sense… Until I found the seams.
It took me some time to realize their point. They were meant to hide something in the walls. To preserve this perfect image of a beautiful room with no exit. Only there was an exit. A door hidden flawlessly in the wall… Seemingly just a part of the lovely architecture. A door I found out how to open.
That door became my secret. Everyone else could gawk at that one room. But everything else was mine to explore. I started sneaking out at dusk and making my way to the mine by the light of a lantern. I’d go through the door while I was well enough alone, and explore what awaited me on the other side. And oh what sights I saw…
Where to begin? How to explain it in a way you might understand? I don’t know… A University of scholars would probably take years to unveil all of it. There was so much to see… So much to take in. To this day, I regret that I was only able to have but a small taste of it.
I took what I could. Old tools, charcoal rubbings of carvings on the walls. Whatever I could get my hands on to understand this place. When I wasn’t there, and I wasn’t at home helping you, I was studying them…
Who knows how much I would’ve learned… Lost secrets from a civilization that the rest of the world doesn’t even remember. If it weren’t for you.
I’ve said before, I do not hate you for what happened. I suppose I can see it all from your perspective. I had been sneaking out at night and focusing on these strange rubbings I’d uncovered. I spent most of my time scribbling in my journals and I’d become increasingly isolated over the past several weeks.
You probably thought you were doing me some good by taking it all away from me. You probably thought that burning them was the wisest thing to do… You were unaware of the ignorance of your own actions. I understand.
You’re a farmer. A simple man from a simple background. You understand little outside of what you already know, and have little interest in anything that isn’t already part of your world. Explaining my work to you was pointless… I realize that now.
I must admit that I do remain… Embittered, over the loss of my work. Though I’ve put my anger towards you behind me, I regret that so much was lost. I suppose I should just count myself lucky that you didn’t destroy all of it.
I had enough to take with me when I left… Enough so that I didn’t have to start over from nothing. I don’t regret not saying goodbye. You would’ve tried to stop me from leaving. What I did was necessary. In the fifteen years since I left, I’ve never doubted that.
I have done well on my own… This cabin I’ve built suits me. It is far enough away from the rest of the world that I am mostly undisturbed and close enough to a town that I can feed and supply myself.
I’ve made decent money selling my skills, fixing machinery, and whatnot. Most visitors I have only come to give me something to tinker with. But most of the time I remain focused on my work.
What I salvaged from your attempt at destroying it, and what I remember what you did destroy probably only scratches the surface of what these unknown people were capable of. I did manage to gather a little bit more over the years before Copper Lake Mine was flooded, but really all I have is table scraps compared to the banquet buried in that mine. That said, I’ve managed to extrapolate a bit from what I have… Figure out more of what they were working on.
It’s incredible.
The genius of these people… It almost seems impossible but I have seen the evidence. I have tried to replicate their work and though my results have been mixed, I see the beauty in what they were trying to do. Left to continue this work, who knows what good I could do? Reviving their methods could revolutionize the world as we know it! We could revolutionize architecture, we could drastically alter our society and improve it for the better. There could be no more sickness, no more suffering, no more injustice. Only a perfect unity between all mankind.
It’s right there… Just beyond my grasp.
It’s right there.
But after fifteen years, I’ve still got so far to go… Time is unfortunately against me. It always had been. I would need lifetimes to fully unlock the secrets of the few bits of information I have, and lifetimes more to study once I got my hands on more information. And knowing that you will come for me only shortens the little time I already have…
I should have known I couldn’t avoid the world forever. Sooner or later, you would find me.
After my encounter with Mr. and Mrs. Palmer last week, I knew you’d come. They had of course tried to talk me into coming home once they’d recognized, and when I’d refused, I saw in their eyes that they’d seek you out and tell you exactly where I was the moment they made it home.
You… Who only wanted what you thought was best for me.
You who could never understood my work.
You who still wouldn’t understand… Who’d look at all this and declare I’d been wasting my life.
I couldn’t allow you to involve yourself… Yes, perhaps there is a risk you did not come here to bring me home. Perhaps you would have been content to leave me to my work. But I have no guarantee of that and your past behavior has made me… Unwilling to trust you.
Besides… Time is my enemy. Sooner or later, I will need to conquer it.
I’m sorry. But this was inevitable. Once again, I apologize for the… Mess…
My research into the procedure has concluded that it will be extensively painful… The process of upgrading ones body is not something one was ever meant to do alone. But I’m reasonably certain I could pull it off myself. I’ve done all I can to prepare myself for it, although I’d be fooling myself if I claimed I wasn’t afraid.
It’s entirely possible that all you will find is your daughter’s corpse, mutilated nearly beyond recognition. Or you will simply find the meat that I left behind… The flesh I had to shed to surpass my human limitations. Either way. The scene I know I’ll leave for you will not be one you’ll have ever wished to see. I’m sorry for that. But I need you to know that this is what I wanted. This is not some punishment for a wrongdoing of yours. This is not a sign of your failure as a father.
This is progress and I do it willingly.
This is my choice.
Should things turn out for the worst however… I do have one request to make of you. Do not destroy my work. Do not burn it.
Find someone else to take it. Bring it to a scholar. Someone who will appreciate its value. This last act of mine is… Extreme… Experimental, even by their standards. But the rest of their work must be preserved and if I cannot work on it, someone else must!
If I am dead, then do this last thing for me, Pa.
Yours
Margaret Harper
I read the letter only once, my stomach turning in revulsion as I began to question just what my daughter had done to herself.
I looked down at the rotting hunks of meat on the ground, watching as the maggots gnawed on them, and felt my stomach turn as I realized that what I was looking at was part of what remained of my daughter…
My sweet Margaret…
My girl…
I couldn’t stand there any longer. I couldn’t face the rotting pieces of her… I couldn’t even begin to fathom what it was she’d done to herself. I only wanted out.
I turned and ran up the stairs, bursting through her front door and finally vomiting into the dirt. I collapsed to my knees, bile streaming from my lips as I started to scream.
And as I did… I heard footsteps. Footsteps in the distance, somewhere in the woods. I looked up just in time to see something walking through the trees. Something that at a glance, may have seemed human… And yet so much was wrong about it.
How to describe it? What words could I use? I don’t think I can find them.
Hideous… Beautiful… Both and neither at the same time… A golem of flesh and metal.
My daughter.
What remained of my daughter.
I looked at the thing in the woods, dimly lit by the blue light that seemed to emanate from it. I looked at what remained of Margarets face… I looked into her eyes, which now shone with an unnatural blue light.
I looked.
But I did not see my daughter.
I saw nothing.
The figure watched me for a few moments, before turning to leave. Wandering aimlessly away. I did not follow it.
I have taken my time to gather my senses. I have returned to her cottage twice now to look through her things. She asked me not to burn it… But I wasn’t so sure I shouldn’t.
I have not seen what remains of my daughter again. Part of me hopes I never do. I’m not sure if what I saw was what she intended to become… I cannot believe that it was. I cannot understand most of her notes. The wonders she spoke of elude me. All I see is complex writings and diagrams that some might dismiss as the ravings of a madwoman. And perhaps they were.
I have put much thought into what to do with her notes… In the end, I have decided they should be burned along with her cottage.
My dear Margaret, I’m sorry to do this to you again… I know you believed all this to be worth it. But having seen what I’ve seen… Having seen what you’ve become, I can’t let others follow your path.