The sky above the mine had yet to fully emerge from the night.
Fog still clung to the edges of the hills like spirits reluctant to leave.
The morning air hung heavy, filled with the scent of diesel, coal dust, and the faint hum of machines just beginning to awaken.
Indra stood alone beside the dorm truck, gripping a black backpack still spotless—just like the white helmet on his head, slightly loose. He wasn't used to this yet. Even his work boots hadn't fully bonded with the earth beneath—still stiff, still factory-fresh. But his eyes were sharp, full of questions, and tinged with a strange unease he couldn't quite name.
First day on the job.
Location: South Pit.
Shift: Morning.
Assigned unit: Not yet informed.
He drew a long breath, trying to calm the silent drumbeat pounding in his chest. In the distance, dawn crept slowly over the treetops. The forests of Borneo never made loud noises. They lived in a silence that spoke—an eerie quiet that whispered instead of shouted.
"Ndra!"
A voice sliced through the morning like a stone skipping across still water.
Indra turned and saw a medium-built man approaching with quick strides. His blue vest looked worn, and the helmet he wore was covered in half-peeled stickers.
Alim.
A senior mechanic.
A friend from training.
And the only familiar face here.
"Told you not to expect anything fancy on your first day," Alim grinned, breath misting in the cold. "You're assigned to the sump."
"The sump?" Indra frowned.
The word wasn't foreign. But it wasn't a location often mentioned in a cheerful tone either.
Alim nodded slowly, standing beside him like a man guarding a secret.
"The lowest part. Mud. Wet. Sometimes the fog doesn't even rise from down there. Most operators avoid it. They say… that sump isn't completely empty."
Indra chuckled. "You mean leftover coal?"
Alim didn't answer. But his eyes wandered to a distant point—somewhere down the slope where the hauling road bent into shadow.
"Sometimes," Alim said quietly, "what gets buried in the earth… doesn't want to be left behind."
⸻
05:10 WITA – Operator Post
The control room buzzed with the rhythm of data printers, HT radios, and keyboards tapping under the fingers of the shift admin. Screens showed live feeds of various pit areas—mostly just fog and the faint silhouettes of heavy equipment.
On a whiteboard, today's assignment was clearly written:
• Operator: Indra
• Unit: Not Assigned
• Task: Sump Observation + Loading Assistance
Indra stared at the board for a while, then exhaled.
In the corner, Andy—driver of dump truck HD 785-7 unit #4893—was checking his pre-op checklist.
Not far from him, Upi, the dozer operator for D575, was cleaning the blade and checking hydraulic pressure.
And Rizal, the drilling tech, was arranging drill rods behind the rig while humming softly.
Indra stood awkwardly. Still unitless. Still unsure.
Then a supervisor—tall, lean, half his face hidden behind a mask and helmet—approached him.
"Indra?" the voice was deep.
He nodded.
"Come with me. There's one unit being reactivated today."
Indra followed without a word.
⸻
05:25 WITA – EX Yard
They stopped in front of a massive machine—silent and still, like the rusted corpse of some ancient beast.
Its sides were corroded.
The yellow paint had faded.
The manufacturer's logo was barely visible.
PC 2000-11. Unit number: EX1805.
It didn't look like the others.
There was something different about it.
Something… uneasy. Like entering a room that had been sealed for years.
"Why does it look abandoned?" Indra asked.
"It is," the supervisor replied. "Off for three months. Today it's being tested again."
"Why now?"
The supervisor turned his head slightly. "Direct orders. This unit has to go down today."
"And my job?"
"Monitor the unit's behavior. Assist the mechanic. If anything strange happens, report it."
"Strange?"
The supervisor stared at Indra's eyes—flat, calm. Too calm.
"EX1805… has its own history."
⸻
06:00 WITA – South Sump Route
The further down they went, the heavier the air became.
The sky still hung dull and colorless, but the lights from the machines cast everything into a strange dream—where fog, soil, and steel merged into one.
HM400 trucks passed on the upper road, hauling materials from the middle pit.
Unit HD 4893 was already on standby below, waiting for loading from EX1805.
"Ndra, stay on radio channel 7," Andy's voice crackled through the HT.
"If the sump starts sinking or the mud changes color, report immediately."
📻 "Copy, 4893," Indra replied.
He climbed into the cab of EX1805. The control panel lit up slowly, like something breathing in.
The engine hummed.
Soft.
Too soft for a machine this size.
Like a whisper.
Like something not meant to be woken.
⸻
06:15 – First Disturbance
As the bucket began digging into the mud, the entire machine trembled.
Not the usual tremor of hydraulic motion—this felt like resistance. Like something beneath was refusing.
The indicators blinked.
Then the LCD screen lit up with a code:
[L3: ACCESS SIGNAL DETECTED]
Indra stared at it.
Silence wrapped around the moment like static in the air.
Then the radio came alive:
📻 "Unit active… position confirmed… continue excavation…"
It wasn't a human voice.
More like an echo. A recording.
And it wasn't on channel 7.
Indra switched channels frantically.
Nothing.
The HT went dead.
But the voice… was still there.
Not from the radio.
From the machine's speakers.
And suddenly, he realized—
this machine wasn't just a machine.
⸻
06:25 – The Mud Moves
Below the bucket, the mud began to swell.
Not gas.
Not steam.
But like a cavity slowly opening.
"Ndra! I can see it from above!" Andy shouted over HT.
"The center's expanding by itself. That's not normal!"
Indra looked down.
The mud was forming a spiral.
Not random.
A pattern.
Like a sign.
A symbol.
A gate.
⸻
06:30 – EX1805 Refuses to Shut Down
Indra reached for the emergency stop.
His finger pressed the button.
The panel went dark.
Everything shut down.
Then…
It came back.
On its own.
The screen flickered twice.
"EXCAVATION NOT COMPLETE."
Indra stared at the words.
His heart pounded—not from fear, but from an ancient instinct screaming at him:
Get out now.
But the sump kept sinking.
The mud kept shifting.
And EX1805 stayed alive…
…with or without an operator.