The first being from the Earth's core appeared in the deepest construction tunnel of the Moscow Metro, 200 meters below the city's bustling streets.
The workers thought they were hallucinating—exhausted from weeks of round-the-clock digging, their minds playing tricks on them. But the figure didn't vanish when they rubbed their eyes.
It stood three meters tall, its body resembling polished basalt—smooth yet textured like cooled lava. Its eyes were twin orbs of glowing crystal, shifting from amber to silver as it scanned the tunnel.
It made no aggressive moves—no growls, no sudden gestures. It just stood there, silent and immovable, as if studying a curiosity.
By the time security forces arrived, their rifles raised and hearts pounding, the creature lifted one hand.
Every electronic screen in the tunnel—from safety monitors to worker tablets—flickered to life, covered in a cascade of complex mathematical symbols. The soldiers froze, unsure if this was a threat or a message.
"It's a prime number sequence," a mathematician confirmed over a video call, his voice breathless with excitement. "The first ten thousand primes, accurate to twenty decimal places."
"This is mathematical language—universal, unassailable, the lingua franca of the cosmos."
In the next three days, these "rock beings" appeared near twenty-seven ultra-deep drilling sites across the globe. They never ventured above ground, always choosing dark, underground spaces—tunnels, mines, laboratories—avoiding direct sunlight as if it burned them.
The United Nations hastily formed a special task force, and what they discovered defied comprehension: the creatures could manipulate any silicon-based material—concrete, glass, microchips, even sand—shaping it with a mere thought.
For the sixth contact attempt, Li Zhe was sent to the Jinping Underground Laboratory in Sichuan. One of the core beings had stood motionless there for forty-eight hours.
He approached slowly, his boots scraping against the concrete floor, carrying a custom translator device. It converted human speech into seismic vibrations, transmitted through the ground to the creature.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach.The device hummed to life, sending low-frequency waves rippling outward.
The creature's crystal eyes flickered, casting prismatic light across the lab walls. For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, the main screen flickered to life—not with a projection, but with pixels rearranging themselves. It was as if the screen itself were alive, weaving a story from light.