[ WP ] Mankind has succesfully deleted every trace of the year 2016 . You , a historian in the year 2416 begin to wonder why there are no records of the year 2016 ever happening . When you begin to investigate , what you uncover , sends chills down your spine .

I held the holo-drive in my hand. It's contents: a single image file, of an archaic file format not seen in hundreds of years. An image of a child speaking to his grandfather. About the Dark Year. 
 
 The Dark Year. 2016. A moment of human history, forever erased from sight. The ancient peoples of the Twin Empire, northern Amer and southern Ica, had made all traces of this time vanish. All but one, this single image of child's instruction, passing along the tale of Amer and Ica's great dynasty to future generations of young eager minds. 
 
 I had not seen the image myself, for the equipment necessary to open it was of ancient design. But the man who had given the holo-drive to me, a madman living in squalor in the wreckage of a long-abandoned museum, had opened it on systems rotted with disuse and gazed upon the file. He spoke only of madness, of terrors and bewildering sights which surely must belong to the caverns of insanity. For of the words which crept past his hushed lips, surely none could come from a sane mind, especially not the great thinkers of the ancient Amers and Icans? 
 
 My colleague Xaris, an expert in ancient Amer-Ican technology, sat in his office pondering ancient files and texts. Of all my fellow historians and archeologists, I trusted none other than he to accurately render the contents held in my hand. Heart-racing and stammering profusely, I unleashed a torrential downpour of excitement and discovery upon his ears. 
 
 He took the holo-drive, ingested it's contents, and began the process of translating the data into formatting legible by modern day OS. Watching him work gave me a shiver of anticpation, the hands of a master delicately restoring the secrets of a hidden past... it stole my breath away. 
 
 The image resolved slowly. I saw a simplistic illustration: a child speaking to his grandfather, just as the mad hermit had described. Th remainder of the image came into light and, with hushed voices and reverent gaze, we gazed with clear eyes and open hearts upon the lost knowledge of the Great Ancients. 
 
 A dark shadow passed over my heart. Xaris turned to me, light gone from his eyes. A dim pallor crept across his vision, his gaze falling upon nothing even though I stood in front of him. We turned, fools that we were, to gaze again upon the profane works we had unearthed. 
 
 What nightmare made real was this?! What fools were we, what mortal hubris compelled us, that this ghastly vision must be unearthed?!?! 
 
 I ran to the wall, fumbled amidst shortened breath and blinded by panic, for the power cord. I ripped it from the wall with such unholy force I fell backwards upon severing the link. The tel-screen fell dead, black as the secrets it now held. 
 
 Xaris sat in the corner, mumbling incoherently. I firmly grasped his shoulder, but he took no notice. The visions we had seen filled his mind, I could see it as clearly as I could still see my own internal horrors dancing on the back of my sight. His gaze empty, his body wracked with shivers as horror grasped his body. 
 
 I ran. Ran from the dark knowledge we had unearthed, ran and tried to forget. Never again did I explore ancient places or peruse ancient texts. I never entered a museum or a university or even my local library again. 
 
 Bu no matter what I did or where I ran, I could never escape the visions of the ancient Amer-Icans. Never could I forget the secret horrors of the Dark Year, their shadows creeping around my heart to grasp it with tendrils of panic. Even now, in this place of safety and solitude from which I write, the dark visions I have gazed upon [ swarm my mind with their ceasless gibbering madness. ] ( http: //imgur.com/VaoxuWm )
