Commander Elise Rowan stared out the viewport, her breath catching as the sensors confirmed the impossible: this planet was a mirror image of Earth, down to the last detail. The only sound in the cockpit was the hum of the engines as the ship broke atmosphere. Skyscrapers rose from the green heart of a metropolis, and playgrounds stood empty, swings swaying in the breeze as if waiting for laughter that would never come. Dr. Malik Chen, the ship’s science officer, leaned closer to his screen, scanning for signs of life.
"No heat signatures, no movement. It's as if the entire population vanished at once," he muttered, disbelief heavy in his voice.
Lieutenant Farah Vega swept her scanner over the deserted pavement, while Commander Rowan ran her fingers along a child’s bicycle, its wheels still spinning slowly. Storefronts displayed fresh bread behind unbroken glass, and digital billboards flickered advertisements to an audience of none.
"How could a world so alive be so empty?" she wondered aloud, her voice muffled by her helmet.
"Maybe they left in a hurry—or were taken," Vega replied, her tone uneasy.
Unknown Child (appears to be eight years old, with tangled hair and wide, wary eyes) glances up as the crew approaches. The child's silence is palpable, broken only by the rustle of leaves overhead and the distant call of an unseen bird. Dr. Chen kneels, careful to keep his voice gentle.
"Hello, there. We're here to help. Can you tell us your name—or what happened here?"
Commander Rowan tries a softer approach, sitting at a respectful distance. Vega offers a protein bar, which the child accepts without a word. The city’s silence is overwhelming, interrupted only by the distant echo of their own voices.
"It's all right," she says quietly, hoping to coax a response. "We're not leaving you alone."
Dr. Chen photographs the markings, his brow furrowed as he analyzes their meaning. Vega notices that every drawing features the same motif: crowds of people, and a single child standing apart beneath a swirling black sky. Meanwhile, the silent child traces the chalk lines with trembling fingers.
"It's like they're trying to tell us something—but can't," she whispers to Commander Rowan.
Commander Rowan sits beside the child, offering warmth and patience, while Dr. Chen gently places the paper airplane on the child’s knee. The crew waits in the hush, sensing that the key to the planet’s mystery lies with this single, silent survivor. In the distance, a faint melody drifts on the wind—an echo of a vanished civilization, and the beginning of an answer.
