Marks in time that cannot have been. The light glints on OJ's mirrorshades OJ is climbing a hot dusty hill in the middle of an otherwise empty plain. The sun is almost directly overhead. The brown grass of the area has almost failed completely on this man-made mound of earth. As he climbs he thinks about duty and honour and the valiant efforts of the crew of a ship called the Enterprise to keep those suppositories in place.
Crickets call like electric buzzers, some only a few feet away though still invisible.
Sweating, he reaches the top of the small conical barrow where a hotel once stood. A piece of stone, carved, rests on the summit. Tears well up in OJ's eyes, he has to fight to control them, as he reads the few simple words of the inscription. Impossible things reflect from his mirrorshades. Don't ask, don't tell.