It was the close of the third period of the Apochozoic Era, just after the Eocenic Age. The upward-reaching ridge that formed the Tethylassic Crest could be seen from every corner of Pangea. The last humans died out over a quarter-century earlier. Scavengers. Barbarians. In many ways, they weren’t unlike their primitive ancestors that first set foot upon the land. Some even exhibited cannibalistic tendencies, a need that grew out of an innate survival instinct. They were little more than common animals, the last primates, one of the few mammals left before the Great Extinction. It was simply a wonder of nature that they managed to make it as long as they did.

All the primitive signs of artificiality had collapsed and decayed. The natural materials broke down first: wood, stone, brick, cement. The lighter alloys and oxidized alkalites followed. Anything that remained by this time was quite fragmented, brittle and deteriorated to the point that it became unrecognizable to intelligent eyes. One such artifact was buried deep within the sand of the Cascadian shoreline, in an area once referred to as “Puget Sound” by the locals that settled there many years prior.