We are about to become the most powerful nation the world has ever seen. Our drill bit hovers over the hole, about to plunge its nose into the Earth and twist, over and over and over, until it pierces through the last layer of stone and soil, revealing the very heart of our planet. 

    It gleams, the body of the machine the color of the deepest forest. Looking over the trees which it nearly blends in with, it looks like a kind of living being; its shades of vibrant color and shining metals clashing with the sunlight and drawing attention to it like a bright light that draws in moths. 

    The muscles in my arm tense as I push the lever forward to start up the machine, knuckles white around the red ball I hold. 

     It springs to life, roaring like a kind of predator that only hunts prey such as the golden deer of myth. Its nose dips into the soil eagerly, as if it were a child plunging into a bowl of rich chocolate pudding. 

     I watch as the monitor next to me shows the depth of the drill, leaning forward in my seat and staring as if my whole life depended on it. 

     The nose of the drill penetrates that last layer of soil, the monitor flashing a brilliant tone of green as I pull back on the lever. 

     The drill retreats, its once shiny coat of leaf-colored paint stained with the darker tones of the Earth. The bit is worn, no longer a sharp weapon, but some form of twisted shovel that must be thrown out. 

    Already, people are gathering around the hole, staring into the abyss beneath them, until a light starts to shine upwards from the hole. 

    A shout went up from the viewers, a triumphant cheer from those who have thought this job may never be completed. 

    I, too, cheer, leaping up and down like a young buck suddenly finding itself free of its mother, until I heard the silence beneath the window. A shiver ran down my spine, warning me of everything and nothing. 

    Nothing looked wrong; the scientists were crouching by the hole, and everyone else was watching; like people of stone keeping ancient secrets. 

    I turned the drill off, the machine going quiet, slumping as though it was a dragon that had just breathed it's last. 

    I creep down, hesitating before stepping onto the spots of unavoidable crabgrass and walking toward the people standing around. 

    They hadn’t moved; even the scientists were holding vials over the hole, hands stuck out in front of them. 

    I weave through the crowd, keeping myself from touching them because of some odd feeling.

    I hear a crash, sending my heart into my throat and my body into momentary flight. 

    A test tube had fallen from a scientist’s outstretched palm and shattered on the hard stone beneath her. 

   She doesn’t move; her hand is still outstretched, her body contorted into a position like she is trying to run. 

    Yawning, I force myself to my feet, wondering why it takes so much effort to move. 

    There is a light mist around me, filtering through the air. It reminds me of fairy dust - yellow and small. But there’s something not right about it, like the fairy was dying and had cursed whoever had wronged it. 

    I turn, but my feet are frozen, my brain is in a fog.

    The mist congeals around my feet, forming a sort of cast over my lower body before disappearing but causing my muscles to harden and my breath to quicken. 

    Now my head is screaming at me to run, to fight, to get away. But I cannot move, cannot breathe. 

    I feel a sort of cold breeze on my cheek; a whisper of anger at the gaping wound in Mother Nature’s bosom. 

    Something is moving; something large and black, looming over the fiery red colors generated by the light coming from the Earth’s core, turning them black as a starless night and shadowing their light.

    It emerges in the shape of a grotesque creature. Not speaking, but morphing into the shape of a man-like creature; contorting its face into a grin that made my cry lodge in the back of my throat and come out as an airy whimper. 

    It was only then that the hand reached for my face, enclosing my head in a dark, dark mist until the world slowly faded to black. 

    I suppose now I am a statue; existing somewhere between the living and the dead, guarding a dangerous secret which the world is about to discover.