The inhabitants of a mature civilization can see when the end has come. So it was in Ponnetia when barbarians were at the gates, stars streamed to the ground far from their usual course in the celestial river, and the prophecies made at the very beginning all came true one after another to herald the end. The Ponnetians in response did what they knew had to be done.
While their artificers forged keys for their superweapons in the shape of animals or the sun divided into three, diggers buried potions and ominous diary entries. The stasis chambers contained every monster the military could catch while roboticists considered designs for mysterious girls. The gigantic statues with mechs inside were worth every penny, and also pennies and other coins were spread around and placed in chests. A strict quota for secret passages was established for every mine and castle, and any region without one or the other was soon relieved of the deficiency.
No civilization has ever been more satisfied with its own accomplishments in its last days, though any diary page or audio log saying so failed to make the cut. There were some things the people of the future had no need to know.
Finis
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