high frequency low frequency, the message comes through on all bandwith loud and clear, it's halloween time, streets are a dead zone, see movement and it's just the wind blowing remnants, no signs of life, no animals making noise, just that cold wind, some kind of tempest. not even an insect left, a few scattered corpses, a frozen dog, some birds dropped out the skies, half skeletal remains. you do a quick scan, get a fix on some kind of transmitter. 
your pressure suit is state of the art, technology from anteries 7, semi organic, grown designed and compatible for you specifically. it's homed in on the transmitter, the display lights up, some information hits your neural net and you head towards it, lock in, the camera starts recording automatically fixed to your vision. you scan the area, just like they trained you, you report back, feedback to the mission control, all data will be significant, your body is argumented with some serious software, electron proton and quark drive power your suit. the organic skin has chameleon like camouflage, nothing looking at you would see you, it's anti spectrum field makes you invisible in most of the spectrum, unless the observer used the extra visionary blue, then it would pick up on your emotional energy. you crave a cigarette, but the suit releases some anxiety reduction chemical into your blood, it takes effect immediately. 
as you head towards the transmitter you can make out the black cube, it's on a mound of rubble, a visual scan indicates the electro magnetic pulse. it's an sos, standard warning code. you consider all options, move forwards carefully. 
each step takes you closer, you find it hard to concentrate, because your frightened that it could be a trap, something you have not picked up on, waiting for you, lurking in the shadows, your eyes scan everything.
the box itself is small enough to pick up in one hand, it's chinese, not the indian ones you're familiar with. you slip it into a pouch and walk back to the pod where you can investigate further, your team await. they power down your suit and get the lab prepared, they access the main computer network and run a technological autopsy program that's suited to decoding the transmitters memory.
an hour later after you have showered, you sit with a coffee amongst your team awaiting a result. the medic checks you over, the navigator is smoking a joint, she looks grimly at you.
'come o, lighten up, it's going to be okay, just some kind of warning that's all.'
'i gotta bad feeling about this whole thing captain.'
'it's nothing, it's just a warning signal that's it. nothing to get suspicious about.'
'it's the only fucking piece of technology on the planet captain. it's not nothing.'
she was right, i reached out and took the joint from her, inhaling deeply. 
the mainframe interrupted whatever peace we had, 'final analysis ready, all personal return to command centre for briefing.'
we stood there looking at the screen, the five of us in dim light as we watched the information roll down through, static, a mass of millions of random noise, the computer focused on eliminating the layers of noise, until it reduced the sound to one layer, a single entity, downloaded from the dead. we trawled through each layer of information, the whole planet was here, in this box, whatever had befallen this world the humans had managed to download their consciousness into this cube. they had survived but not in human form. 
i asked the mainframe what the cube would be worth on the market, the team seemed to think we could at least make some credits from this salvage mission. the mainframe said the cube was worthless although it may be of value to a collector. 
'okay, prep it for storage, we can keep it onboard until we need it.'
it had been a long day, i needed a bath and a drink.