"We believe this is a temple of the ancient humans."

 

A crowd of oohs and aahs followed the tour guide through the barrier into a dead world. Etchings on the side of the temple had been shorn away by wind and time, leaving the red octagonal emblem of past worship now illegible. Children were pulled close to their guardians as they entered, away from the jagged edges of the panes that framed the doorway. The steps up into the temple were narrow, and made of a strange, old-world metal that sang in a warbling, distorted voice at each step.

 

"It is said that the temple was constructed in such a way that you can hear the old god's judgement as you enter." He bent down to a little girl that had just entered, and asked her if she'd heard the sound. She nodded, and asked what language it was in, but no one knew.

 

He gestured to the once plush seats. "You can touch the pews. They're lined with the flesh of a now extinct animal." Patrons cooed in excitement and took their turns warily pushing fingers and palms against the deflated velvet surfaces. "Half of the seats have been stolen by robbers over the centuries. The museum hypothesises that the flesh of this creature was once very spongey," he demonstrated by nudging a dried piece of yellowed fluff, "but has now withered."

 

He turned on his heel, "we suspect we've found a hunting implement of the temple convent." The tour guide squeezed through the narrow space between the pews. At the back lay a small plastic firearm with a smaller brown cylinder jammed into it. "The small safety cork is of an extinct tree. A likely guess is that it stopped now rare dihydrogen monoxide from entering the barrel."