The Ship was first spotted in the early 21st century by a telescope of a forgotten nation scanning perpendicular to the solar plane.
It was emitting noise across half of the electro-magnetic spectrum and when radio telescopes focused on it the operators heard a constant drone.
The operator's notes remarked that the noise sounded like someone crying deeply; the kind of cry reserved for life's truly great tragedies.
There was no doubt that The Ship was of intelligent origin. It was half a light year away.
Thirty years later the first unmanned probe reached The Ship.
It was hastily assembled and launched by a coalition of nations desperate to know if their petty squabbles should come to an end or if business could continue as usual.
The probe emitted greetings in a hundred languages and several mathematic formulas but for all of the noise emitted by the ship over the years its only response was to continue its wailing.
The Ship was twice the distance from the sun as Pluto.
It had been twenty years since the first robotic contact with The Ship and the behemoth had slowed to an astronomical crawl. This is where our first real pictures of it come from.
From afar it looked pitch black; blacker than the void of space somehow but up close it rippled with detail.
The Ship was covered in antennas and equipment jutted from its surface it looked mechanical and raw. All function, no form. Except for the windows.
Ten thousand windows lined each side of its gargantuan hull and all of them dark. No movement. No light. The Ship was inside Pluto's orbit and moving slowly towards the sun.
Sixty years after discovery of The Ship man touched an alien alloy. The spacewalk lasted over an hour but the astronaut could find no means of entrance and no contact could be made with any inhabitants.
Governments began to panic fearing The Ship was a weapon or perhaps worse an Ark of some sort filled with millions of unknown entities.
The Ship crossed the orbit of Jupiter while they argued over whether to destroy it.
Five years later half of the world's plutonium collided with The Ship. It passed by Mars without noticing. Not long after that its trajectory was calculated.
The Earth had three years before The Ship landed on the north coast of Africa.
"Now it's been five hundred years little ones and The Ship still sits there watching us as the waves of the sea lap against its hull.
" The Elder turned to the crowd of bright eyes listening to his story. "Humanity thought this ship would save us, but it tore us apart.
Man fought man to acquire the technology contained within but in the process we lost our ingenuity." The Elder sighed.
"We still have the tools of the past but we have forgotten how to make them. The stars came to us...and we burned."