On this dead, desolate world, surrounded by aeon-old ruins, an asymmetrical circular gateway stands sentinel, constant and unchanging amidst the desolation of a civilisation long since extinguished.

You can't help but ask yourself out loud - what was it for?

Immediately, the object responds, pulsing with some light within, and you hear a voice, each syllable emphasized with a short, brighter pulse of light -

A question. Since before your sun burned hot in space, and before your race was born, I have awaited a question.