Fog covered the surface like a thick blanket resting heavy upon a tired sweating body. The pores of the ground, small foxholes, ant hill openings, and rodent dens allowed this moist seepage access to an underworld. But up top not a sound could be heard.
Way off in the distance light beams were shooting down around the periphery of dawn sky. They seemed to be emanating from a dark hole torn from the atmosphere. Stars twinkled through the unnatural window. Beneath the breach, in the livable planet, dust was swirling up to the opening further excited by beams of light that were creating vortexes moving out into space.
Cleaver townsfolk in the small enclave of Blight were starting their day in the typical worn out grind. Most were too busy with taking showers and drinking coffee - not a slight glance made its way outside. Two days remained.
An hour later a violent sucking sound could be heard across the globe. News reports were coming in that suggested all was lost - the atmosphere of the red planet would be gone, vacuumed out into the heavens in less than a day. Cities were already flying up and out into the star filled darkness. All traces of an advance society were evaporating, dissolving into finally exploded particles of dust.
The evacuation spacecraft with their lottery drawn passengers had blasted from the spaceports and were now safely on route to many destinations, some primitive, others presumed more enlightened. Very little advanced planning was made for so few precious hours, minutes, and finally seconds were left.
This was but a mere few hundred billion years ago but even now the craters of origin are deep pot marks where life, family, and comfort found what was presumed to be a resolute home. Now a cold bleak dead place this red planet is profound for a single remarkable event - the ancestors of this race of beings - a few souls have found refuge on other worlds many light-years distant from their quiet but intolerant planet.
They have transformed themselves over the eons into a very observant people.