From the LOTM: An item of Interest from the Yucatán Peninsula

[Panache]

From the Files of the League of the Moderators


An item of Interest from the Yucatán Peninsula

Young Gregory Long stumbled into the tent and collapsed onto his narrow cot. With a labored effort he slowly reached up and removed his faded and now sweat soaked wide brimmed hat letting it drop to the dirt floor. Next to the cot his small pipes lay on a little folding metal table. He had promised himself he would practice after his shift at the site, but he had barely breath enough to pant after working in the sweltering heat and oppressive humidity of Summer in the Yucatán Peninsula for the better part of the morning through the mid afternoon.

He and the other undergraduate interns had been carefully removing the thick vegetation from an outbuilding of a stepped pyramid, inside which the graduate students and Professor Calvert were carefully exploring.

Where it was cool , thought Greg bitterly. When he had asked if the undergraduates might be allowed to help with some of the work inside the temple and get some experience in real archaeology , Calvert’s senior graduate student Diana had cheerfully reminded him before the other interns “it’s all REAL archaeology and everyone has a job to do here, skirt boy! “ Greg frowned and brushed straight the pleats on his Gordon tartan kilt. He hated this little pet term she had labeled him with. There was only one reason he withstood that constant slur from Ms. Diana S. May (known behind her back as “Ms. Dismay” ). That reason was that in the grand evolutionary order of things at an archaeological dig:

The archeologist was Albert Einstein

The senior graduate student was Isaac Newton

The other graduate students were the wait staff at the Ritz-Carlton

The Undergraduates students were a somewhat promising batch of pond scum.

On the first day at the site Diana had taken delight in explaining this to the undergraduates before setting them to start digging a latrine.

Closing his eyes and picturing the arrogant beautiful blonde senior graduate student he couldn’t help but admit that her long legs and slender tan figure might also factor into why he couldn’t bring himself to confront her and that horrible term she constantly called him. Greg just wished she would call him anything but…

“SKIRT BOY!”

Startled, Gregory fell off his cot and landed on the dirt floor. His new vantage point gave him a great opportunity to admire Ms. May’s legs as the shorts and t-shirt clad woman stood over him with a furious expression. Her finger shook in rage as she pointed to him and she barely was able to spit out “YOU ….FOLLOW ME….NOW!” as she spun on the heel of her hiking boot and left the tent. Partly from fear, partly from curiosity, and partly for the opportunity to watch her lithe form in motion a bewildered Greg followed her out.

He quickly gave up on questions as he ran behind her. His every query being met by “SHUT UP SKIRT BOY” . Greg couldn’t for the life of him understand what he had done to anger her. She quickly strode down the beaten path that led to the dig site. Young Gregory admired her shapely form and long beautiful legs with their stately stride as they progressed through the jungle. Inspired by this sight Greg’s inherent male optimism surfaced and he began to speculate the reason for Diana’s odd behavior. Perhaps she has had an overwhelming attraction to me from the very start, he pondered. It could be that her hostility, scorn, and constant derisive comments were a disguise to hide her growing passion for him. Greg grinned in lustful anticipation as they came to the ancient limestone pyramid and proceeded down its worn stone steps .

A series of small electric lights had been fitted to illuminate its interior. As they descended Greg noted the walls were covered murals and stucco reliefs. There was plenty of evidence of the graduate student’s efforts to carefully brush away the dust and grime of the centuries to bring them to clear view again for study. Greg smiled as he was sure what was coming. He confidently strode behind her into a small antechamber where she stopped and turned to face him, hands are her hips, her bosom heaving. Greg smiled. This magnificent older woman, no longer able to keep her passions to herself had finally taken the bold handsome Celtic boy that had enslaved her heart and loins away to this secluded room in this dark ancient place where she would finally express the feelings she could no longer deny. Any moment now she would tell him how she really felt about him, why she must think that he was a…


“REPULSIVE DISGUSTING CRETIN! YOU IDIOT! YOU CROSS DRESSING PUNK MORON! “

Young Gregory’s fantasy evaporated.

I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU HAD THE UNMITIGATED GALL TO DEFACE A RELIC LIKE THIS! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS? WAS IT SOME SORT OF STUPID SCOTTISH GRAFFITI?” Ms. May screamed.

Stunned at the vehemence of her accusation Greg managed to respond with a soft noncommittal “glurk” as the blond graduate student grabbed him by the throat and shrieked into his face:

“… WELL MR. BRAVEHEART I AM GOING TO PERSONALLY DISEMBOWEL YOU AND THEN I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN ENTRAILS…. “

“...Now now Ms. May I really can’t have you performing acts of vivisection on the undergraduates. It’s bad for morale on the site. We have spoken on this subject before I believe” said Professor Calvert entering the small antechamber. He was a short man with thinning wispy white hair and gold spectacles with thick lenses. Greg made another (though more appreciative) “glurk” at his savior. “My dear I think Gregory could breathe a tad easier if you would release his windpipe” the professor suggested gently. “Glurk” , Greg agreed as eagerly as his limited air supply allowed. Grudgingly, Ms. May unclenched her fingers from around his throat.

“Now what is this all about? Asked the Professor. She pointed at a partially uncovered stucco relief. The Professor and Greg looked and gasped. In the middle of a particularly dirty carving in the center of the chamber was a small area that had been carefully uncovered. Under the white halogen work lights, shining from inset quartz and lapis lazuli, was the blue and white of part of a saltire cross!

She then pointed to Greg. “This must be his doing!“ she accused. The professor clucked his tongue, “My dear this is not some elaborate prank. It is obvious that the debris you have removed is old and this inlay work is typical for the Mayan’s at this time period”. “A Scottish cross? Impossible!” she retorted. “Improbable certainly. However you are making a lot of assumptions based on such a tiny part of a large image. Since you have involved Gregory in this I suggest that you both work on uncovering the rest of the relief. Sort of kiss and make up as it were”. With this professor left them to their work.

Greg looked at her hopefully, Diana only scowled.

Over the course of the next week they carefully applied small brushes and tiny chisels to extract the crusted earth and dust from the fresco. Working steadily and breaking only for meals and a few hours of sleep each day they made remarkable progress. Diana showed Gregory some grudging respect for his skill and patience at the work (though she still referred to him with the dreaded moniker “Skirt Boy” ) At the completion of this task they called for the professor. Together the three stood before the unveiled piece made by artisans long dead and forgotten. The results were nothing less than astonishing.

The intricately sculpted stucco fresco had been inlaid with various semi-precious stones to add brilliant detail to the work. The sculpted relief depicted a thriving city, with the very pyramid they stood within prominently featured in the foreground. Diana had been completely right, the image she had uncovered was a blue and white saltire. What further careful effort had uncovered that this saltire was part of something .

A long blue something.

A long blue cigar-shaped something.

A long blue cigar-shaped something with fins at one end, nacelles along its side, and a gondola on its underside at the other end. It was flying high above the stepped pyramid.

A zeppelin!

Facing it was a smaller, though similarly shaped image. This one was made of inlayed quartz and cinnabar. The maple leaf design made the pattern unmistakable, it was the Canadian flag.

Set on a blimp!

“Airships?“ Professor Calvert whispered as he traced them gently with a trembling index finger. “What are these?” he asked pointing at several shapes made of onyx that seem to swirl about the vessels. Wordlessly Gregory handed him a powerful magnifying glass. Calvert examined the minute carvings and gasped, “Pterodactyls? Impossible!” “Improbable certainly”, Greg muttered. Diana softly said “look here Professor” and pointed at the top of the blue zeppelin. The aged professor did and saw what appeared to be two tiny figures in kilts holding what looked liked swords. One had been carved from jade and held a weapon made from a sliver of ruby while the other was of tiger eye with sliver of sapphire.

Gregory spoke for all of them when he wondered aloud “What does this all mean?”

[Panache]

At the end of Summer Calvert published his expedition’s findings. As a good scientist and researcher he was obligated to report the strange stucco relief work and its fantastic images of airships and dinosaurs . Most of the Archaeological community thought it was either a hoax or a misinterpretation of the carvings. The news went on several wire services and was reported by many newspapers in their “News of the Weird” or other such derisive columns where it generated many a chuckle from the general public.

Only one person took the news with the utmost gravity. At the Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence Madam Pleater, the General Director read of the incident with great concern as she sipped her morning tea. Finishing the brief article in the paper and setting her steel rimmed reading glasses aside she walked to her secretary’s office and asked the young woman to procure a copy of Calvert’s full report. With the usual efficiency expected at the MHICE it was on the General Director’s desk within the hour. Madam Pleater read the report three times and intensely scrutinized the photographs accompanying the text.

For the rest of the day she was almost completely preoccupied . The staff and students all could sense something. Though she still made certain to get the lobsters delivered in time for the sauce for the fish course to be made*, made sure to give a quick call to certain representatives of Her Majesty’s Government to inform them that the matter of the Chinese Ambassador and the stoat had been resolved satisfactorily, and bounced on her trampoline before tea as was her usual routine.

After tea she came to a decision and went to her office and her special phone, the blue one, to call Mr. Brown .

“Yes Madam?” he inquired politely though with a slight touch of humor, as if he had been expecting the call.

“Mr. Brown I was wondering what is the status of the Pin and Needle projects?’ asked Madam Pleater .

“They are still in the early stages of development Madam. It is only a question of time before we achieve success“

“…a question of time” she mused

“Time or Space, Quantum Mechanics can get a bit tricky” Mr. Brown admitted.

“ I cannot but feel that events may be unfolding that will require their use. I should think it would be advantageous if we can get prototypes of both units operational as soon as possible.”

“Then we shall apply our best efforts and endeavor to achieve satisfactory results with all due speed. I assume you will operate “Pin”. Who shall use “Needle” Madam?”

“I have a suitable candidate in mind. ” she replied.

“And what name shall we give this operation?”

Madam Pleater thought a moment. “Operation: Savoy Truffle”

Giving Mr. Brown her thanks she hung up and then dialed her secretary on the regular phone.

“Yes Madam Director?”

“I shall require the file on the “Saltire Incident, could you please see that it is on my desk by 14:30?

“Yes Madam”

“Thank you”

Hanging up Madam Pleater stared at the clock on her office wall.

“a question of Time and Space…” she repeated.





?

[pdcorlis]

Oh Goody - Here we go again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Arlen]

Oh good. Something to relax to just after I finished my workout.

Now to wait out the rest of the adventure.

[davedove]

Cool!!!!!!!!!!

[Freedomlover]

O.K. It has been 4 hours and 2 minutes since the second installment. This is intolerable.

[Splash_4]

Woot! Another story of the intrepid airship Saltire!

[The F-H.C.A.G.]

Sorry, folks, I'm taking my beloved out to sushi dinner tonight in early celebration of his birthday tomorrow, so no further installments today!

Be well,

[ardchoille]

What is this? Does Jamie often spin stories for us? I know I haven't been here a year but is this a gift often bestowed upon the rabble?

I like.. I like

[davedove]

What is this? Does Jamie often spin stories for us? I know I haven't been here a year but is this a gift often bestowed upon the rabble?

I like.. I like

Panache was our first storyteller and the inspiration for those of us who have written stories since.

I look forward to what happens in the past.

(Hmm forward, into the past.)