do take an interest in the Parker-Flinte expedition seem to become afflicted with a sort of malaise and decide eventually that it’s as good a time as any to wash the dog or re-upholster the sofa or something.
As a result a veil of sorts remains over Parker-Flinte’s affairs, things that in reality should be examined and investigated more closely.
THIRD ATTACHMENT
Recent research on a completely different subject has brought to light evidence of an interesting series of events and, on the off chance it may be connected in some way to the above, I have included – for Your Eyes Only at least – an informal summary of the business. In cautious deference to issues of libel vis-a-vis certain academic reputations, however (either self-perceived or that remaining thereof), I thought it prudent to forgo the opportunity of mentioning names, despite the amount of time that has passed without the affair coming to light and this being, in essence, a private document.
You will recognise, I feel sure, the individuals to whom the following alludes.
The episode in question took place a couple of decades back, when two widely known semi-retired behavioural science conceptualists were holidaying with their wives in the Kimberly region of northern Western Australia. During their time there they visited the geological formation known as the Bungle Bungles and, this happening prior to its being declared a national park and the imposition of camping and freedom of movement restrictions, they stayed for some days and made a number of expeditions into the many deep gorges and side canyons for which the feature is now so famous.
Their last such undertaking was a lengthy affair which took them far from their base camp, and much of what transpired that afternoon and the following morning is unknown. Neither one can give a cogent account of exactly what took place during much of that time but – knowing them as we do and having a good idea as to their personalities, predilections and principals (or lack thereof) – it is not difficult to make a fair guess as to how things must have gone.
Apparently, at some stage of their return leg that day, the two found themselves following what they must have thought was a short-cut, only to become lost in a maze of clefts and side-canyons. And it was here, in one of these deep and anonymous fissures, that they stumbled onto something of incredible significance (they subsequently maintained) – a vast, previously unknown gallery containing the most amazing and singular aboriginal paintings ever discovered (they claimed).
Naturally, being highly qualified and widely experienced behavioural science conceptualists, they each instantly realised the importance of the discovery, at the same time recognising the unparalleled opportunity it would afford in crowning (what both had always seen as) their own very illustrious individual careers. At the same time each would have appreciated the academic threat posed by the other, not only in respect of the kudos to be gained for the discovery itself, but also that to be earned by the scientific classification and description of the complex but hitherto unrecorded behavioural principles underlying the illustrations portrayed on the gallery walls.
Both would have gone into a frenzy of photographing, sketching and note-taking, with each quickly becoming oblivious of the other’s presence. And this would not have been difficult; the paintings covered the walls and caves on both sides of the narrow ravine for a considerable distance (it was claimed). Each must also have lost touch with the progress of the diurnal cycle, only to rediscover its inevitable advancement on finding themselves suddenly engulfed in darkness.
Such a trifling matter would have been accepted with equanimity, and both would have settled down somewhere for the night, formulating in their minds the analytical systems by which they would identify and describe the various behavioural concepts hidden within these seemingly primitive paintings.
Something we do know, however, is that back at the vehicles their respective wives were not overly concerned by their spouses’ failure to return. They were, after all, very experienced Behavioural Science Conceptualists, and both were confident that, no matter what might have delayed them, their husbands would Know What To Do.
This left the pair at a loose end, so to speak, and without company, as a result of which they joined, at their nearby campfire, the two clean-limbed, athletic young German mountain-biking backpacker gentlemen who were the only others present at that (then) lonely place – taking with them, as a good will gesture and to help smooth over any language difficulties, some cold beers and one of the husbands’ bottles of Chivas Regal single malt whisky.
Meanwhile, at the first hint of daylight, the two professors would have headed back down the ravine, the direction most likely to return them safely to the bosom of their off-road camper trailers. Then, as each again became aware of the other’s presence, recollections of their situation, their mutual academic vilification and their acrimonious competition would have come to the fore, the latter items having been a permanent part of their illustrious careers. This time, however, it would have been plain to each that with the stakes so high no quarter could be given.
The ensuing melee must have been brief and vigorous, each realising how vital it was that he be first back to their campsite. And, once there, the successful protagonist could, by temporarily abandoning their camping gear, ensure also that he be first back to civilisation – or to the Turkey Creek Aboriginal Community Council Office at least, where (this happening pre- the internet), there should at least be a fax machine.
And, knowing how remorselessly wedded each had been to their careers, we can presuppose with some certainty that the discovery of the marital partner asleep naked in the arms of a strikingly good-looking and superbly proportioned young Aryan individual would not have impinged on the fellow’s determination or even deflected in the most microcosmic degree, his urgent determination to press on, the sooner to submit his paper and claim the kudos he so rightly deserved.
According to this person’s wife, on being rudely woken, she was told without query, comment or explanation to dress, then promptly dragooned into driving back to Turkey Creek along the (now abandoned) rough and rudimentary north Bungles track, her husband urging her on impatiently all the while and the vehicle bucking and bouncing as he set about scribbling out his paper, the paper in which he would present to the world his crowning achievement: the scientific classification, inspired analysis and unarguable conclusions of the magnificent discovery he’d made, personally and individually, on his own, by himself – interrupted only by the late arrival of his principal academic rival.
Indeed, it was only after setting out on this frantic journey (the wife confirmed), that this learned individual came to realise that his own assets and records had not remained unscathed – distracted as he’d been in disabling his rival and demolishing his rival’s camera and field notes. His own notebook, too, was a torn sodden mess and his very expensive (pre-digital) SLR camera’s structural integrity had been seriously compromised.
Subsequent removal and development of the film by a specialist confirmed his worst fears. All except portion of a single frame had been lost, ruined by moisture and the exposure to light.
The partially recovered photograph shows a rock painting of a human figure. The figure is standing arms outstretched, and enough remains to determine that it is wearing what appears to be a tattered, dark coloured cloak-like garment, beneath which is some sort of brightly coloured erotic native costume.
This figure is generally believed to be that of a powerful medicine-man or witchdoctor, which would explain the pale coloured face-mask and what appears to be a cross-like artifact suspended from its neck. Not enough evidence is provided by just this one light-blemished image, however, for any reasonable conclusions to be drawn as to the purposes of costume, stance or device.
Doubts have been cast on the gallery’s actual existence, of course, mainly by others working in the same academic field. And so, in an effort to verify his claims, the photograph’s owner has gone to great lengths to relocate the side-canyon where the paintings were alleged
ly found, except that so far he has failed to do so. Doubtless this is due to the number and complexity of the gorges and ravines to be found in the broader Bungle Bungles geological formation, covering, as it does, more than twenty square kilometres.
Crucially, at no time did either of these greatly experienced Behavioural Science Conceptualist Professors pay the slightest heed to their actual whereabouts, and neither has the slightest recollection of anything that might give even an approximate indication as to where this particular side canyon might lie.
As the victor in the race to Turkey Creek later commented in exasperation to a well known science journalist, “I don’t bloody know! I’m a Behavioural bloody Science Conceptualist, not a frigging Boy bloody Scout!”
Interestingly, the losing academic has little memory of the affair, though he does have a vague dream-like recollection of being in a narrow canyon somewhere. It was not unlike the fissure leading to the lost city of Petra, he says, except that its walls were covered with paintings.
He also has a hazy recollection of being with his wife at a campsite somewhere, in the company of two young men. She’d bandaged his head and sundry other abrasions,
The Parker-Flinte Expedition Page 4