The Dig

by Michael Siemsen

  “Right,” interjected Tuni. “Mr. Turner will be requiring the artifact itself.”

  “No offense… ,” Rheese began.

  “Of course not,” Tuni murmured under her breath.

  “. . .but the bloody artifact has not a trace of relevant radioactivity. You’ll need to measure from this sample here.”

  “Understood,” Matt said as, for perhaps the first time ever, he found himself wishing Dr. Meier were present. “The museum has contracted me to determine the actual age of the artifact itself, not the surrounding rocks. It’s my understanding that the museum is already satisfied with those results.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind my asking, how do you plan to determine said age of my find, young man?”

  Seeing that Matt was about to become unruly, Tuni recalled Meier’s instructions. She opened her leather organizer and quickly scanned her notes.

  “Dr. Rheese, if I may, Dr. Meier and Peter Sharma have used Matthew’s expertise on many high-profile investigations, including A-L two-eighty-eight-dash-one. If you could simply humor us for a few minutes, I think we could make some good progress.”

  “Lucy, huh?” he replied with apparent interest. “And what did you find out about little old Lucy?”

  Matt tried to remember the estimation they had given, now that Tuni had put him on the spot. He knew that it was around three to four million years, so he decided to be creative.

  “The sample I examined was three-point-seven-two-two million years old.”

  “Impressive. How could it possibly be so precise? What technology are you using?”

  Tuni spoke again, “It’s rather difficult to explain, Dr. Rheese. Perhaps if he could simply examine the artifact for a moment?”

  Rheese snorted, sighed, and gave a little huff, as if pulling the key from his trouser pocket required considerable exertion, then knelt to open the safe at Matt’s feet. Just get it over with, Garrett, he said to himself. He took out the container and stood back up, his knees cracking audibly. Tuni and Matt held their breath in anticipation as it appeared. Placing the container on the end of the table, Rheese unscrewed the four screws holding the two plastic sides together, then slid the bottom sheet of plastic in front of Matt. There sat the artifact, fully exposed.

  Matt stared at it as Tuni slid onto the bench across from him and looked from Matt’s face to the fabric and back again.

  Matt thought it looked smaller than in the picture, but somehow much more real. Now that it was in front of him, for the first time he actually started to worry about what he might experience. There very well might be nothing—after all, he had never been able to read anything but imprints from other humans, and apparently there weren’t any around back when this came into existence. He looked closely at the uneven edges and figured it must have been damaged in some violent act. That would be an imprint right there—if it was the act of a person. He moved it around with his forefinger, marveling at its flexibility. It wasn’t quite as fine as window screen; the metal threads were a bit thicker, and woven in such a way that it all moved quite freely.

  Rheese cleared his throat. “Is this how you determine your precise dates? Staring and prodding?”

  Matt took a deep breath and turned to the professor. “I’m sure you’ll find this a little suspect, Doctor,” he began. “But I’m going to have to ask you to step outside for about ten minutes.”

  “Certainly,” Rheese replied nonchalantly. “When the hair on my head reappears.”

  Matt looked at Tuni in a silent plea for help.

  “Professor,” she said, “perhaps if I could speak with you outside and explain the situation.”

  “Right. Your request sounds ever so different from his. I will not be leaving either of you alone with my artifact. You will begin your examination now, in front of my eyes, or it will be returning to my safe.”

  Matt sighed. He didn’t trust the professor, and he had made no plans to bring someone new into the circle, let alone someone as sketchy as this character. But it didn’t appear that he would be getting any private time with the object, and he was still intent on leaving as soon as possible. Matt decided to be mysterious about it—let the man be unconvinced. He didn’t need or want him to believe in his ability.

  “Fine, Dr. Rheese, I’ll proceed. This is a little-known method that few can comprehend. I’m going to have to insist that you not interfere, regardless of what you think. Is that agreeable?”

  Rheese nodded. “As long as nothing happens to give me cause to fear for the safety of the artifact. What exactly do you plan to do?”

  Matt ignored the question, knowing it would only lead to more, perhaps even resulting in the object’s removal to the safe before he could read it. He pulled a clean piece of paper from a notebook in his duffel, slid the fabric onto the paper, and pushed the square plastic piece away from him. Then, taking off the gloves, he gave Tuni a look.

  “Just like with the shots, okay?”

  She nodded her understanding.

  Rheese crossed his arms and, with an impatient sigh, leaned back against a cabinet. Tuni shimmied her bottom closer to the edge of the seat. Her eyes opened wider.

  Matt stretched his hands out over the woven metal fabric and pressed them firmly against it.

  11

  DARKNESS…

  Going…

  Breathing…

  We?

  Other breathing…

  Scritching…

  We walk.

  We carry.

  Death carry? Death walk?

  Feel danger. I feel danger.

  I am man. I am wet. It is sweat. Sweat means danger. Need clean.

  I see now. I see movement in front of me, and it is nighttime. This is so odd. Who am I? I am a man, and sweat is pouring down my back. Why am I worried about my sweat? They smell it, that’s it. He’s counting. Yes, I’m counting numbers in my head. Strange numbers. Single plus single plus single plus single plus single plus single plus single plus single, batch, single plus single plus… it goes on. It’s sets of eight. Full batch and stop. Full batch is sixty-four. Sixty-four steps from peak.

  We’ve stopped. We put him down. Scritching in ears. Who is him? Oh, I miss him. There are others around me. I see their hands and arms. We’ve put down Inni. That’s his name. He is naked and dead. I see his skin; it is black. I feel more heat beside me. I hear more now. Bubbling. It sounds like boiling water. I am afraid to put him in. Faces! We all make a circle around him and look at each other’s eyes. Those eyes, so huge! Human-like, but so big and very widely set. And the faces, so similar! They look almost like cartoons with those features so exaggerated. Circles of face are exposed, but a headdress surrounds them. It is the scritching sound in his ears. He’s wearing a metal fabric headdress. It’s called a top. The middle is the jacket, lower is pants, and bottom is foot covering. All must wear their k’yot when outside at this time. There, that’s the whole outfit: k’yot. It means protection. Protection from what?

  We push him to melt. Melt? Pain! Face burning. There’s steam shooting from a crack in the ground. Droplets spray out and burn my face. We think ylt pwino, ylt pwino. We think good-bye, dear friend. The naked body falls in, and we move away quickly. Back to safe. Full batch steps to peak. Full batch single plus single plus single to safe. To safety.

  We walk in a straight line. I know that Pwig walks in front of me. I know that Norrit walks behind me.

  Back to structure, Matt. Solidify yourself.

  I am Irin. I am old.

  What is that, “old”?

  My father is oldest; I am old. When a baby comes, it is newest, later it is new. I am old; Father is oldest.

  I am Irin. I am old. I came new in my house.

  Okay, Matt, the usual drill doesn’t work here. When is this? Where is this? This is some kind of African tribe wearing the metal fabric all over their bodies, and that was a sort of death ceremony. Now we’re walking, and Irin won’t stop thinking “single plus single plus single… batch!”
He has no concept of when. No, wait, he does! The moon. Single plus batch plus batch plus batch plus full batch plus gross batch plus single plus single past. Past what? How the hell am I going to figure out these stupid numbers?

  Okay, we’ve reached the peak, and the single pluses continue.

  He wipes the sweat from my eyes. They were stinging. Wait—what the hell was that?

  Rewind!… Wipes the sweat…

  Rewind… I wipe the sweat from my…

  Four fingers. He’s got three fingers and a thumb! And not like one was cut off, either. I feel my hands and they both have four fingers each. I think my feet have four toes, but I can’t tell from the feel. Does everyone else have these hands?

  Rewind… We push Inni into the melting place…

  I’ll be damned! That guy’s hands are the same. We think good-bye… Okay, fast forward to end, back to the sweat. I have no idea how to figure out the time.

  Oh, God… time.

  No! I didn’t set my timer! That asshole Rheese had me all distracted! Plus single plus single plus single… yeah, I get it, okay! How long will Tuni let me sit on that bench before she gets worried? How long will Rheese wait until he gets tired of watching this idiot sit there with his eyes closed and his hands on “my artifact”? How long does this imprint last? It should be fading out anytime—unless some other event is coming up that overlaps that dead friend thing back there.

  I see stars now. Wow, so bright! Is that the Little Dipper? Safety is around the corner… I see the silhouette of the mountain up ahead. It looks like we’re walking on a path between two small yet steep peaks that converge right up ahead in about half a full batch, I’d say. What’s that around the bend? I see light? The light of safety. That’s where I’m from! “Safety.” Pwin-T. It means safety. I guess that’s the name of the village around the…

  Oh… my… God…

  It’s a city! There’s light everywhere, all a light blue shade, and I am relaxing as we walk down the hill. Pwin-T is huge! There are real buildings down there. We should be there in just a couple of full batches!

  I have to meet in the Center house to have time with Inni’s family and friends. Norrit needs to remember to seal the wall when—

  “Enough of this rubbish!” Rheese yelled as he replaced the artifact on the plastic and set the second piece atop it. “Where’s the bloody screwdriver? Miss Maggie better decide she knows where bloody Sharma is—and fast—or I’ve a good mind to…”

  Tuni had leaned over the table and was helping Matt put his gloves back on as he reoriented himself and stared at her with huge eyes. Ignoring Rheese’s ranting as if it were no more than the droning of cicadas, she whispered to Matt, “What did you see? Did it work, did you see anything?”

  “I saw…” He smiled a smile she hadn’t yet seen in their short acquaintance. It was like a child walking toward the front castle at Disneyland for the first time. “I saw so little! I mean, I saw these people, so different. They… think totally different. It’s like, sort of a big mess actually, and the numbers, it was like single plus single plus single equals a batch, and that was droning on in Irin’s head forever and—oh, they were dropping this dead guy into this boiling steam bath fissure thing in the mountains…”

  He stopped, realizing that Rheese had grown silent and was now listening to his speedy rant.

  “So you have a whole bloody story around your five minutes of intimate time with my artifact?” He was obviously unconvinced, though he seemed to be interested in what Matt was going to make up to complete the whole charade. “What’s the date, Merlin?”

  “Actually, I couldn’t really figure it out.” Throw in some bullshit. “The energies were asynchronous. It didn’t make any sense.”

  “Obviously,” Rheese replied with contempt. “I’m going to track down Sharma, and the two of you are going to be on your merry way home shortly, mm-kay?”

  He picked up his satellite phone just as the sound of approaching tires caught their attention.

  Tuni leaned over and spread open a section of blinds to peer through. Two people in a big black SUV had arrived. Dr. Rheese vultured his head down to see through the window in the door. Tuni jumped a little and turned to Matt with an excited smile.

  “It’s Peter!”

  12

  PETER SHARMA STEPPED OUT OF THE Land Rover and stretched his legs. The four-hour drive had been brutal on his back. Only the first half hour had been on pavement; after that, it turned into a jouncing, jarring sickfest.

  The air at site 00876-B223KY reeked of death. Peter walked to the top of the slope that led to the excavation. He saw that the remains were still there, obstructing his corner. He heard the RV door open behind him and turned to see Rheese stepping out to greet him.

  “Mr. Sharma, a pleasure to have you at the site!”

  “I’m sure it is, Doctor. Mind if I ask why that thing is still over there?”

  “Oh, the bloody Interior Ministry keeps promising a crew is on its way, and they never quite show. I tell you, I’m this close to having it burned and buried.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not sure why you’ve waited this long. The thing appears to be well into decomp now, and it’ll be a horror show to clean out.”

  Obviously flustered, Rheese stammered, “Well, I… it wasn’t… if it wasn’t for the bloody ministry and their bloody rules about disturbing the remains…”

  “It’s covering up access to that sediment—and possibly further damaging the historic record. I do not know of any law that would keep us from removing it. If anything, there are labor laws protecting the men down there from having to work in such unsanitary and hazardous conditions.” He glanced down at the cloud of buzzing insects filling the excavation and noticed the laborers wore bandanas over their noses and mouths. “I’m about to toss my breakfast smelling it from this distance—I’m sure being that close is utter misery. Please, you’ve got backhoes—get it out of there and bury it away from the camp.”

  Nodding enthusiastically, Rheese pasted on a smile. “Enzi, dear boy!” he shouted to the food tent, where his foreman was cleaning a scrape on one of the men’s knee.

  “Yes, Professor?”

  “Let’s give the men a break, what do you say?”

  Enzi shrugged and shouted back, “Sure, Professor, no problem!” He whistled with his fingers, signaling the men to hike out of the stinking, fly-ridden inferno.

  “Peter Sharma,” Matt said as he walked up to the new arrival. “Good to see you.”

  Peter turned and smiled.

  “Good to see you, Matthew! Look at you—you’re a full-on man now, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m all grown up,” he said with all the good humor he could muster.

  “You know what I mean, man!” Peter replied, swatting him on the shoulder. “Last time I saw you, you were, like, seventeen!”

  The driver of the Land Rover moseyed to Rheese’s side. Rheese looked up and saw that it was the same driver who had brought the two ministry officials. The man beamed an obsequious half-gold smile, obviously hoping for another manifestation of the Englishman’s generosity. Rheese ignored him.

  “So, have you, uh, had a moment with the artifact yet?” Pete asked Matt eagerly.

  “I have, actually. Just now, but Dr. Rheese ended it abruptly and put it back in his safe.” Turning to face Rheese, Matt continued, “I don’t think he’s all that comfortable with my expertise.”

  “May I have a word with you in the motor home, Sharma?” Rheese asked, taking Peter gently by the arm.

  “Oh, hello, Miss St. James,” Peter said as he passed her. “I didn’t know you were doing field work now.”

  “Just caretaking, Peter.”

  Matt’s face flushed. Caretaking! And what was that in the way she said “Petah”? Was she interested in him? Had they had a thing at some point?

  “Matt,” Peter said before Rheese could steer him into the RV, “did you get anything from it?”

  Matt nodded, eyes wide.
“Oh, yeah.”

  Rheese disappeared inside and Peter stopped, halfway in. He mouthed to Matt, “Does he know?” pointing through the door.

  Matt grimaced and shrugged a “kind of…”

  Peter nodded and gave him a wink. The door closed.

  “Mister Sharma,” Rheese began, “you’ll have to accept my apologies, but as you know, though I am quite intent on proceeding with my work in Africa, I waited a good deal of time for a potassium-argon specialist’s assistance in validating the artifact’s age. To discover that I have waited this long for an uneducated American to do psychic surgery on it—well, perhaps you can imagine my disappointment.”

  Peter nodded patiently as his eyes scanned the room in search of the artifact.

  “I do understand, Dr. Rheese, absolutely. But I can personally attest to Matthew’s ability, difficult as it is to accept. I worked with him extensively and have absolutely no question as to his legitimacy.”

  “Well, I admire your open-mindedness, Mr. Sharma, but as I mentioned, I am quite driven toward the success of my expedition. Even if I were to allow the lad more time with the artifact, it would not bring us any closer to providing evidence acceptable to the scientific community. I believe the vast majority of my colleagues in the field would agree.”

  “A valid point, Doctor,” Peter acknowledged. “But the thing to understand is that Matthew’s ability has the potential to lead us—to lead you—to more artifacts. Personally, I am very interested in what he has discovered thus far.”

  “It was a lot of twaddle, really. He just babbled on about giving some dead person a steam bath. Seriously, Sharma, you give weight to this claptrap?”

  Peter nodded and raised a finger. He had an idea.

  The motor home door opened, and Tuni watched the two men step down. Matt had walked off to throw rocks at the crows and kites tugging at bits of elephant meat. The workers were all chatting in the food tent, discussing the forthcoming dismemberment and removal of the monstrous carcass. The work would involve both chain saws and a backhoe’s loading bucket. It would not be fun, but they all agreed that in another day the flies and the stench would make the camp unlivable. Tuni could hear Enzi telling them a joke in Swahili. She tried to listen in over their laughter.