Even now, as he adjusted to life on Mars, the numbers haunted him. One to two out of every hundred. It wasn’t paranoia; it was math. The odds said there were rats here too, people who’d sell you out for a quick profit or a favor from the powers that be.

  But on Mars, the stakes were higher. There was no running here. Nowhere to hide. If they found him, if they figured out who he really was and what he was hiding, there’d be no second chance.

  He clenched his jaw, the weight of the smartwatch in his pocket a constant reminder. The equation still lived. The secret was still his. And as much as he hated to admit it, the odds weren’t in his favor. But still, despite everything, he was a gambling man at heart.

  And for now -at least, he was alive. And that would have to be enough.

  The billionaire behind the colony project didn’t care much about qualifications. Degrees, experience, references? None of it mattered out here. What mattered was skill. And Adam had plenty of that. Too much, honestly.

  But blending in meant not showing off. He’d downplayed his talents, made himself just competent enough to pass the interview without raising any flags. When the assignments came, he wasn’t surprised to find himself slotted as a janitor. It was a thankless job, but it suited him. No one looked twice at the guy cleaning up after everyone else.

  Of course, being a “janitor” on Mars wasn’t exactly mopping floors. He managed the cleaning drones -nimble little machines programmed to keep the colony’s sterile interiors spotless. Adam controlled them from a sleek console, piloting them like miniature racing drones through the corridors. If the situation hadn’t been so grim, it might’ve been fun. Sometimes, when he was sure no one was watching, he’d race them against each other, setting up mock battles and obstacle courses just to break the monotony.

  And monotony was all he had now. Keep your head down, keep your nose clean, stay invisible. It wasn’t much of a life, but it was the only one he could afford.

  The colony itself was new. How new? Well, that depended on who you asked. The official statements said it had been operational for two years, but conspiracy theories suggested it might have been here longer, the billionaires and governments working in secret long before the public announcement. Adam didn’t care. He wasn’t here for the politics, the terraforming research, or the scientific debates. He was here because Mars was as far from Earth as you could get.

  Still, he couldn’t help but overhear things. The colony was constantly abuzz with talk of discoveries -scientists digging into the Martian crust, searching for answers to the planet’s mysteries. Why did Mars lose its atmosphere? Why were its tectonic plates locked? Was there life buried beneath the surface, dormant and waiting? The usual questions.

  And of course the Martian Computer, and the chamber it was housed in.

  Damnit, he thought.

  He knew what he was going to do, and he was already kicking himself for it.

  Adam didn’t have clearance to go down there. Hell, no one did unless they were directly involved in the research project. The chamber was miles beneath the Martian surface, having been reached by a massive boring machine.

  He’d been sent to clean in the lower levels once or twice, always under close supervision, and heavy guard. The protocols were intense. Blindfolds, sensory deprivation, escorts who never spoke a word. The only way he knew they were descending was the subtle shift in air pressure, a whisper of change against his skin that told him they were going deep.

  What little he saw -or rather, didn’t see- only confirmed the rumors. The chamber was alien, ancient, and still sealed when they found it. Whatever was inside, the scientists weren’t talking. But that didn’t stop the scuttlebutt. Theories ranged from an advanced Martian civilization to a crashed spacecraft, to something even older. The possibilities were endless, and Adam’s mind couldn’t help but latch onto them.

  ∞ Curiosity’s Curse ∞

  He tried to ignore it. He really did. He told himself that staying invisible was more important, that the rumors didn’t matter, that he couldn’t afford to care. But curiosity is a relentless thing, and Adam’s mind was wired to solve puzzles. The chamber was a mystery, a challenge that begged to be unraveled. And Adam had nothing else to live for.

  Every night, as he lay on the thin cot in his quarters, the questions haunted him. What was down there? Was it truly alien? And how would he go about accessing it, if he were to be so inclined.

  The thought was absurd, but it clung to him like a shadow. He’d spent his entire life chasing the impossible, solving problems no one else could. How could he stop now?

  This wasn’t just another puzzle to solve. This was the puzzle. The one that could change everything.

  And so he’d use his tech to theory craft the what-if scenario. Every chance he got, he spent fine tuning the hypothetical plans. Nothing he would ever use, of course. It was all just war-gaming.

  But then the opportunity presented itself on a golden platter, and he couldn’t resist.

  He had to be careful though, because he wasn’t the only genius on the red rock.

  It was during a shift change, the kind of lull when tired researchers passed the baton to their equally exhausted colleagues. Adam had been cleaning the corridor outside one of the secured labs, pushing his cleaning drones in slow, deliberate circuits. He wasn’t paying attention -or at least, that’s what he wanted anyone watching to think. In reality, his ears were fine-tuned to the conversation just inside the lab’s half-open door.

  “It’s impossible, Robert,” a woman’s voice said, sharp and frustrated. “We just can’t get the thing to turn on. The markings -it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen. They don’t match any known language on Earth. The closest comparison is… I don’t know, ancient pictograms. Something that predates even Egypt. Or ancient Mesopotamia. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it aligns with Plato’s description of Atlantis.”

  Adam froze, his hands gripping the controls of his drone a little tighter. Atlantis? He knew the reference. Plato’s Timaeus, the mythical island city, the supposed cradle of advanced civilization. It was impossible. And yet.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Listen, Betty,” the other voice replied -Robert, if Adam was tracking the names right. “Every cipher has a key. We just need to find it. It’s a matter of time.”

  Adam’s pulse quickened. A key.

  He glanced down at the device on his wrist, the smartwatch that had become an extension of his very being. It was small and sleek, unassuming, but it held the most dangerous secret in the universe. It wasn’t just a device; it was the device. The one he’d built. The one he’d hacked. The one that held the answer to every lock, every barrier, every mystery.

  The master key. The skeleton key.

  His lips twitched into a grin before he caught himself, quickly wiping the expression away.

  ∞ Names and Simplicity ∞

  Adam wasn’t one for names. He never had been. He wasn’t bad at naming things, per se -he just didn’t see the point. When something was too trivial, a name didn’t matter. When something was too important, no name seemed good enough.

  He’d once had a cat. Its name? Cat. A dog followed, predictably named Dog. It wasn’t laziness; it was practicality. The animals didn’t care, and neither did he. His parents had called them by other names, but when Adam said, “Here, Cat,” the cat came running. Same with Dog.

  His device, though? He hadn’t named it either. Calling it “key” seemed too reductive for what it was, but anything more grandiose felt silly. It was simply his. A tool born of his mind, his hands. A creation so integral to him that naming it would be like naming his own breath.

  ∞ The Plan ∞

  The idea took root quickly, as these things always did with Adam. The words he’d overheard sparked a fire in his brain, and by the end of his shift, he was already mapping out a how to put his plans into action. It was risky -dangerous, even- but the thought of the chamber, of solving the mystery that had stumped the brightest minds in the colony, was irresistible.

  He spent the next few days fine-tuning the details. His device was his ticket, the tool that would let him slip through the cracks in the colony’s security. He wasn’t dealing with brute-force hacks or obvious surveillance loops -those were too easy to detect. Instead, he’d created a system of micro-delays, subtle glitches in the monitoring systems that wouldn’t trip any alarms.

  Cameras, sensors, even the automated patrol drones -everything ran on cycles. By exploiting the gaps between those cycles, Adam could move unseen, like a ghost slipping between moments in time. It wasn’t magic, though it might as well have been. It was math. Timing. Precision.

  Timing was everything.

  He’d heard a story once about how light works. Even a steady beam, if interrupted, ceases to exist in those fleeting intervals. His plan was the same: create flickers, tiny disruptions that would render him invisible for just long enough to pass through undetected.

  When the night of the attempt arrived, Adam’s nerves were coiled tight. He double-checked the drone’s settings, ensuring the cleaning bot he left behind would continue its preprogrammed patrols in his absence. A missing janitor would raise questions. A slightly off-kilter drone? Probably not.

  The journey downward was nerve-wracking. The guards stationed along the path didn’t make it easy. Adam wasn’t sure if they were government operatives or hired muscle from one of the billionaire backers. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they hadn’t noticed him. Yet.

  He was good at being invisible. He’d played this game for months, and he’d gotten better at it every day. Here on Mars, where alliances were fluid and no one trusted anyone, he had an edge. The rivalries between governments, corporations, and shadowy organizations created just enough chaos for someone like Adam to move freely. He wasn’t part of their world, but he could navigate it better than most.

  Still, his heart hammered in his chest as he slipped past the last checkpoint. He didn’t want to admit it, but the stakes were starting to weigh on him. This wasn’t just a locked lab on Earth or a server farm in some nameless facility. This was Mars. And whatever lay at the bottom of this mystery, it wasn’t going to be a simple problem with a simple solution.

  He slipped into the secured area with a practiced ease, his movements precise and deliberate. His device working flawlessly, as it nudged the colony’s systems just enough to mask his presence without raising suspicion.

  The elevator was only available for a limited time, and he was sure that he’d make it in time, as long as he followed the plan.

  He approached the data-pad and smiled as he interfaced with it. Stepping in, he began his descent into the Mouth of Hades.

  The air grew heavier as he descended -and colder, the subtle change in pressure a reminder of just how deep he was going. That was unexpected. He’d assumed it would be warmer the deeper he went, closer to the planet’s core. But the cold here wasn’t natural -it was the kind of chill that crept into your bones, that whispered of old, forgotten things.

  The research site was miles below the surface, locked away from the world like a secret whispered between chthonic gods.

  As he approached the chamber, Adam’s mind raced with possibilities. His device, his key, wasn’t just a tool -it was an extension of his imagination. And if there was one thing he’d learned in his endless experiments and simulations, it was that imagination was the only limit.

  He’d spent countless hours running scenarios on his PDA, testing the boundaries of what his key could do. The simulations had started as simple tests -unlocking doors, bypassing encryption- but had quickly spiraled into the surreal. Could he decrypt time? Manipulate space? His experiments suggested the answer wasn’t a hard “no.”

  And now, here he was, standing on the edge of the unknown, his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever was in that chamber, it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered. It wasn’t just a puzzle to solve. It was the puzzle. The one he’d been waiting for his entire life.

  Adam took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around the device. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but he knew one thing for certain:

  He was about to open a door that could never be closed.

  The elevator door opened with a whoosh, and he was hit by the alien scent of Martian rock.

  The final leg of his adventure was upon him.

  He hurried forward, using the map he had built of the area as his guide.

  He toggled off the light sensors as he moved. The last thing he needed was for automated sensors to register his presence. Most systems were programmed to turn on lights automatically, but Adam had learned how to disable that. The less attention he drew, the better.

  As he exited the final corridor into the main chamber, the sheer scale of the place hit him. He paused, tilting his head back to look at the faint outline of the capped skylight far above. The drill had punched straight through to the surface, leaving behind a perfectly cylindrical shaft. The discolored edges of the borehole gleamed faintly in the dim light of his device, like an old scar on the rock.

  He nearly whistled in awe but caught himself. Focus, Johnson.

  The chamber itself was enormous, a cavernous space carved into the Martian rock. It was hard to make out details in the low light, but the shape of the space was unmistakable -vast, symmetrical, and alien. The air felt heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

  And there, at the center, was the device.

  At first glance, it looked like a massive stone protrusion, jagged and uneven, like some sort of Martian stalagmite. But as Adam stepped closer, he realized it wasn’t stone -not entirely. It had a texture he couldn’t place, something smoother, more refined. The surface shimmered faintly, as though catching light that wasn’t there.

  It reminded him of Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, a childhood image that sprang unbidden to his mind. Except this wasn’t a crystalline refuge. This was something else. Something other.

  Adam hesitated. For a moment, he just stood there, letting the gravity of the situation sink in.

  He was miles beneath the surface of Mars, standing in a chamber that had no business existing, staring at a device that no one understood. The sheer improbability of it all hit him like a wave.

  Am I in a freaking sci-fi movie? he thought. What the hell am I doing here?

  The absurdity of it all almost made him laugh. Almost. But the seriousness of the moment kept the sound trapped in his throat. He didn’t have time to marvel at how ridiculous his life had become. He needed to focus.

  This wasn’t just another puzzle. This wasn’t a math problem waiting for a solution or a lock waiting for a key. This was something bigger. Something that could change everything.

  And Adam, like always, was the man in the middle of it.

  He tightened his grip on his device, feeling the familiar weight of it against his palm and the watch on his wrist. The skeleton key. His creation. The tool that had saved him, haunted him, and brought him here.

  His pulse quickened. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a discovery. It was a challenge. And Adam Johnson wasn’t the kind of man to walk away from a challenge.