I dug out my binoculars to take a better look at the behemoth blocking my way. I scanned to the north and saw what looked like a break – maybe a passage between broken fragments of the asteroid. To the south, about twice as far, another break between two peaks.
  I was roughly 5 miles away from the face of the rock going by way of the interstate. I had gotten used to seeing bigger and bigger chunks of torn up land, but I wasn't prepared for this. It looked like a dozen bombers had made hundreds of passes over the area. I would have expected a wider circle of ejecta from the impact of this monster, but it seemed like it was 85% concentrated in these intervening 5 miles.
  As I got closer to the sheer wall, I often had to walk alongside the bike, riding being impossible, as there were boulders and huge sections of tree trunks and torn, open earth mounds and gullies. Occasionally I saw parts of civilization twisted in profane and horrible ways: cars half buried in the mud; parts of houses and lightpoles and semi tractor-trailers smashed and twisted together in offensive sculptures. There were dozens of rancid ponds and pools here and there smelling of death and sulfur and heaven knows what else. Once in a great while there was a tiny oasis of green grass or a solitary tree that had remained unscathed. At one point, the interstate was visible as a 300 foot section of unbroken pavement with a mostly intact car sitting as though waiting for rush hour traffic to move on. From the rear, anyway. The front was mashed in and the smell told me to look no further.
  I decided to get as close to the face of the rock as I could, hide my bike and take a hike north to see if I could get through or around this roadblock from the skies. It was a tough trip, but I made it. I found an area of twisted and shattered steel that looked like it might have been a bridge. A few car shards and a large section of a semi trailer were heaped in one place. I folded the bike part way, so it looked smashed and slid my trailer under a part of the semi trailer. Casual observance would not entice anyone to look harder.
  I grabbed a few things – binoculars, flashlight, sleeping bag, water and some beef jerky I'd gotten somewhere in Illinois. I hiked north. It was warm, being near the beginning of September, yet not hot. I knew I could do a cold camp if I needed to. Which I did. The terrain's buckled and rock-strewn chasms and hillocks made the going very tough. I kept the wall of the rock on my left, looking for any breaks. I saw none. Just as the sun was setting, I reached the northern break. It was a deep cleft, but I could tell instantly that I wasn't getting to the Mississippi River this way. Frustrated at the lost time, I decided to camp and leave early the next morning. I moved into the cleft, which was about 300 feet deep and shone my light around to see if there were any suitable overhangs I could sleep under. I didn't want to get soaked if it rained, after all. There were several to choose from, so I picked the largest and settled in.
  While I was inspecting the dark recesses, I noticed several glinting traces in the rock. With time on my hands, I decided to look closer. I was dumbfounded when I realized that they were veins of gold.
  Traces ran all through the depression I chose for my sleep over. Many of them were perfect round dots where the vein ran into the rock; others were intricate half circles and lines running parallel with the surface of the broken rock. I inspected them all closely and wondered how the gold had managed to weave such a complex set of patterns. Shrugging, I unrolled my sleeping bag and tried to sleep. I tossed and turned, my mind churning over the weird gold veins. Not that I was an expert, but I couldn't accept the almost printed circuit look to the exposed veins.
  That was it! I grabbed the flashlight again and operated the charging plunger. I backed away and swept the light over all I could see. I was astounded. Groupings and patterns appeared over and over again, resembling data and address busses on a computer's motherboard. The circular traces looked like pc board antennas and rf traps and other things I tried to understand in the electronics classes I'd taken.
  Was this just a coincidence? I could not wait. I went over to some of the other depressions further back. Similar patterns emerged in each of them. I could only think that this was some freak chance happening. Either that, or this asteroid – if that is what it was – was built or at least modified by sentient beings. I felt like maybe I was going crazy and I needed something sane to hold onto. I stumbled around, looking wildly at all the traces until I barked my shin hard on something. I was cursing and dancing around until I saw what that something was. It was a chair. Rather large, made from the same material which I had assumed was rock, containing some of the gold tracework that the other areas had. I would have thought it just a chunk of rock, but it was too ornately carved and besides.... it had a control panel embedded in the left arm.
  I figured maybe I had gone crazy. Maybe not enough vitamins or something. I could not accept what I was seeing. This asteroid wasn't an asteroid? Maybe I was experiencing science fiction movie withdrawl and was making this all up. Maybe I had a fever...
  No. Ultimately, I had to accept what I saw. Especially after the helicopter showed up a few minutes later.