The Antarctic. One of the most hostile places on the planet, yet the last natural existence left on earth. Scientific studies are always talking place in Antarctica. And I am in one of them. I am Stranded. It is an elongated story how I got denied from my crew, so I will not tell you how it happened, but the present is still at work. My Echo Oxygen F9 is not working. The EOF9 stores my health rate, my heat stealth: so that if my blood heat creases or decreases from expected tempeture, it would Obliterate those specs of burning heat atoms in your blood cells. The EOF9 also supplies my life form.
I am crawling. My legs are burning and scorching from the sub-zero ground. I can just make this un- accepted form of rectangle. It’s the colure brown bruise, and has such a substantial, solid and distinctive shape it gives me enough courage to exemplary my self across the frozen horizon. I am there. The mysterious shape was a door, but not any door. The door had an gargantuan knocker, the right size for a giant to grasp. At the back of the doorway, there was none-existence for the door to open into. So I push the door open. There is iridescent white matter. Where will I go…?