Relics of the Ancients (Fiction)

He paused.

What a find! He could barely breathe in his excitement. He tried to call out, but instead squeaked like a mouse. His throat seemed to have dried and stuck together.

So. Many. Relics.

All in one place. All tangled together. It would take years to carefully prise them apart, trying not to damage them further, assemble and catalogue them.

A goldmine!

He smiled at his own use of such an archaic and abstract term. Even more ancient than these relics. It meant a “bottomless pit of riches”.

That’s exactly what he was seeing here. He knew that what he was looking at was only a small part of what was beneath. His imaging equipment told him the volume beneath – it was massive.

The ancients had dumped items no longer being used into collective areas. Ancient texts referred to them as “Refuse centres”. Possibly because the items were refused as imperfect?

It could also be a “Recycling Collection Point”, he pondered. It was hard to tell the difference, but more items of coloured hydrocarbon and metal were found at “Recycling Collection Points”, and not much else.

Either way, he’d have years of funding for a whole team to dig it all out. Years more to examine, catalogue and discuss it.

He gasped audibly. A travelling exhibition! He could be famous! His mind was running ahead of him, hoping, imagining, the items he would find beneath his feet.

He took a steadying breath. He found his water bottle and drank. Another steadying breath.

Wait. He’d be the first to collect something before he called the others.

He checked his thick protective gloves as he knelt. No tools. Just gentle hands.

Carefully he grasped the nearest piece of flexible hydrocarbon and tugged. It slithered towards him smoothly, then stopped abruptly. Folding it out of the way, he reached beneath it. Using both hands he gently prodded, moving things aside. There! What was that! He pulled out a bright red mass of thin plastic threads, bound together on a wide open, shallow bag of some sort. One side was loose threads, the other a woven net of a different colour. With the care of wonder adding to his years of training, he lifted it, turning it gently, watching how the strands fell. Eventually he decided that it was a decorative protective covering of some kind. It seemed to have a better aesthetic when “upside down”, the coloured part inside, the red threads falling neatly in a cascade. What it covered he had no idea.

Credits flashed before his mind’s eye. So many credits. Countless wealth! It would take years of research. YEARS!

In his excitement he almost forgot to be gentle as he stuffed his find into his collection bag.

He was about to call to the others, but there were more things right by his feet. He might as well have a bit more of a look.

His probing fingers found something more solid. Small. Rectangular. Thin. He extracted it slowly. At the other end it had a small circular hole, and a length of webbed fabric attached. He kept pulling, disentangling the fabric from the many things it was entwined with. Once it was free, he gently wiped at the rectangle, trying to make out the ancient language.

ComiCon

Drat! He wasn’t familiar with that! He would have to consult the lexicon.

He added it to his bag. There was something glinting. He’d grab that too! Carefully extracting the shiny thing revealed that it was an embossed, five pointed shape of gold-coloured plastic attached to khaki fabric.

Deputy Sheriff.

He knew what that meant! It was a mark for a law-enforcement occupation!

As he extracted more of the fabric, he realised it was the remains of clothing. There was more plastic attached. This one rectangular and black with white writing.

Nicole Haught

He had no idea on that one. Lexicon again. Research hours!

He was shaking with excitement by now. Uncovering the culture of the past! No doubt some important figure had worn these items. A person of significance in the culture of the ancients.

“What are you doing?” It was an exasperated shriek from Eiowyn. “Your camera light isn’t on! It’s not recording! You’re missing valuable footage!”

She stomped an exasperated foot.

“How many times do I have to remind you that people won’t come to see the relics unless they can watch The Finding! They’re certainly not going to pay to read about something that they haven’t seen verified as authentic first! Without The Finding all the videos would be incomplete too! What were you thinking?

You’ll have to tangle it back up in there and find it all over again.

Why didn’t you call me first?”

He still couldn’t speak. The excitement was now mixed with embarrassment. The dancing credits slowed their whirl in his head.

“Of course.’ He said, defeated.

He pulled out his find. He tucked the lanyard and ComiCon pass inside the wig, and put the remains of a shirt with 2 badges on top. He placed them under the half-submerged plastic shopping bag. It wouldn’t matter that they weren’t buried deep. It was more important that they not be damaged any more. He’d pull out other things first, then “find” them. It would work.

Eiowyn seemed satisfied. She called the lighting team, walked him back a few paces, checked his makeup. Some smearing made it more “believable”.

Jupiter, the lighting guy, checked the levels and nodded. Checking everyone was in place, Eiowyn flicked the switch on Brad’s helmet-cam, nodded to the other cameramen and shouted:

“Action!”