The letters weren't written by a hand. They were formed by thousands of tiny, metallic insects—nanites—vibrating in a synchronous dance.
The floor beneath him began to liquefy as the nanites rose, forming a shimmering doorway in the air. The signal wasn't a message for him to read. It was a command for him to step through. "Is anyone there?" Elias shouted into the dark. TГ–BB
When the morning shift arrived, the station was silent. The dust was settled, and Elias was gone. The only thing left was a faint, glowing inscription on his chair, pulsing like a heartbeat: The letters weren't written by a hand