Cave of Revelations
Marco Rodriguez pressed his back against the cold rock, trying to suppress his shivering. Four hours ago, dense fog had covered the trail, and he had lost sight of his group at an altitude of two thousand meters. Now, as the sun disappeared behind the sharp peaks of the Andes, the temperature was dropping rapidly.
“Damn,” he whispered to himself, checking his dead phone. No signal.
The cave appeared by chance—a dark opening in the rock, barely visible in the gathering dusk. It was much warmer inside, and Marco, an engineer from Buenos Aires accustomed to trusting logic, decided it was better than freezing outside.
He settled ten meters from the entrance, wrapped in his thin windbreaker. Water droplets fell rhythmically somewhere in the depths, creating a monotonous echo. Marco closed his eyes, trying to sleep.
An hour passed. Maybe two. Through his drowsiness, he heard something new—a sound like muffled voices. Marco opened his eyes sharply. In the absolute darkness of the cave, his pupils dilated to their maximum, but there was nothing to see.
“Echo,” he convinced himself. “Just the cave’s acoustics.”
But the sounds didn’t stop, becoming clearer instead. And then he saw a faint light flickering deep in the cave.
Perhaps there were people? Locals? Marco stood up, feeling for the wall. He moved forward slowly, trying not to make noise, stumbling over stones.
The tunnel wound, leading ever deeper. Marco stopped, breathing heavily. Part of his inner self resisted, advised him to return, but common sense pulled him forward—people meant salvation and the end of his unplanned adventure.
The light grew brighter. One more turn, and Marco froze, not believing his eyes.
Before him opened a colossal underground cave, illuminated by cold white light. But it wasn’t the size of the cave that made him press against the wall, holding his breath.
The entire space was filled with technology that shouldn’t exist. Massive metal structures covered with strange symbols reached toward the ceiling. Between them moved mechanisms that simultaneously resembled organic forms and the most complex machines. Transparent tubes filled with glowing liquid wrapped around the walls like a circulatory system.
And the beings. They looked very much like humans, but something in their movements, in their body proportions, betrayed their non-human nature. Their skin had a silvery tint, and their eyes were like cats'.
Marco covered his mouth with his hand, suppressing a cry. But what he saw next was even more astonishing.
Among the aliens, humans moved freely. Men and women of different ages—some in work clothes, some in everyday wear. They were talking to the beings in English, and Marco strained to hear.
“…the Project schedule is on track,” said a gray-haired man. “The President of Chile has approved the expansion of lithium mining, the Chinese government is investing in this project. This will accelerate the creation of the accelerator prototype.”
The being replied—its voice sounded almost human but with a metallic edge: “Good. At current rates, the ship will be ready in three centuries. Considering we’ve been waiting for two thousand years, this is acceptable.”
“Is there news from the Vatican, is project coordination effective?” asked a woman in jeans and a sweater.
“Of course,” another being answered. “The religion that Yesh’ua created after the crash remains an effective tool. Humans have always been inclined to believe in miracles.”
Marco felt the ground disappear from under his feet. Yesh’ua—the Aramaic name for Jesus.
“How many transformations are scheduled for today?” asked a young man.
“Three new project employees,” someone replied. “The chamber is ready.”
Marco watched as one of the beings entered a transparent cylindrical capsule resembling a vertical aquarium. Panels lit up inside, and the being’s body began to change—the skin darkened, proportions became human. A minute later, an ordinary person emerged from the capsule.
Marco began to retreat slowly in shock. But in the darkness, he stumbled. His foot slipped, and he instinctively grabbed the wall. Small stones rolled down with a quiet clatter.
The sound was barely audible, but something changed in the huge chamber. Red lights flashed on the walls, a piercing mechanical buzz sounded—clearly an alarm signal.
One of the beings turned sharply in his direction, its eyes flashing in the darkness of the tunnel.
Marco broke into a run. Behind him came shouts and the sound of footsteps. In panic, he turned into the first side passage he found—not the one he had come through. The new tunnel was narrower and more winding. He ran blindly, crashing into walls, falling, getting up and running again. His lungs burned, but he didn’t stop.
Suddenly the tunnel ended. Marco burst out onto a narrow ledge. Dawn painted the sky in pink tones. Below him, hundreds of meters down, stretched the valley.
He turned around. Figures were emerging from the darkness of the cave—human and otherwise.
Marco pressed his back against the rock at the very edge of the cliff, desperately searching for a path to salvation. His gaze darted between the sheer cliff and the approaching figures.
The sun illuminated his face, and for the first time that night, he felt warmth. He turned to try to climb the rock when something whistled through the air. Sharp pain pierced his shoulder. Marco staggered, his hand reflexively clutching the wound. Blood seeped between his fingers.
Another whistle. This time he felt a push in his back. The world tilted. The stones under his feet crumbled. He tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped from the rock wet with morning dew, and the world began to turn upside down.
Falling, Marco saw the morning sky rapidly receding, and the shadows on the edge of the cliff becoming smaller and smaller, until they disappeared entirely.