Fiction Fragment

I made another timid attempt at creative writing a few days ago. It's very short, as I have zero writerly endurance, and it's only a piece of a possibly much larger whole. Thing is, I have no idea what that whole will be, and that's where you come in. I welcome any suggestions on where to take it from here-- as well as comments and suggestions on what I already have, of course.

***

The pattern in the brickwork seemed to us some faded shrine to a long-forgotten god. He lies face-down under the sand of a distant desert while we scan his only lasting residue-- gray lines on grimey red, supporting nothing, signifying-- what? Some lines went straight as a horizon, others wandered in confusion; but this is wrong, they were all one, for the one that went straight was part of the one that went crooked and fed into the other until all distinctions were forgotten. But even now this is a lie, for the truth is there were no lines-- there was a huge mortar net, thrown by magicians (mathematicians? engineers?) across the surface of a single massive brick, tipped on its end in the middle of the __________.

At least, those were the thoughts that found us as we found ourselves in the shadow of that singular find, beset by hunger and cold and the intolerable memory of a soft, warm bed. It was quite simply a brick monolith among the trees, vying with them for height, around two arm-spans in length and width. Perpendiculars, that was it-- for weeks the only ones we'd seen had been those approximations peculiar to nature. Where a tree met the ground or a branch met the tree, these organic nearly-ninety-degree angles had given us no relief from our thirst for any minute hint of civilization. And now-- and now there it was before us, a completely meaningless chunk of London or New York with all its old-fashioned modernist exactness, crowding the birches and besting their perpendiculars. It was nuts.

****

So that's all I have, just two paragraphs. Clearly, a lot of questions remain to be answered. Who are the "we"? Where are they, besides a very remote place with birch trees, and why are they there? What's the deal with the monolith? Is this the beginning of the story, or some place in the middle? What do they do from here? Which of these questions should actually be answered in the story, and which should be left open? The e-mail and comment lines are open! It's like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, except that you might flip to the page and it'll say "Eh... thanks for the suggestion, but I don't think I'm gonna use it," and then you wait a month or two to find out what does happen next. Don't let that stop you though.