10 days after Alaska...
Lindsey Miles strode across the isle of a courtroom-like auditorium full of black-suited people that make up the elite society of the British Historical Institute - a smorgasbord of well-established archaeologists, anthropologists and historians.
She was ushered onto a platform with a microphone stand and found herself facing a sea of hard, sardonic faces she couldn't help but feel as if she is on trial or something. It might very well be, she thought.
Her audience, consisting mostly of seniors with gloomy and pale facial expressions, all hushed down from their tête-à-tête. The scent of potpourri mixed with tobacco smoke caught in her nose. Everyone was seated around a table of eight people, against the backdrop of exquisitely designed mahogany wood walls and red carpeted floor.
This is the famous lectern hall of the British Archeological Society that has been graced by popular names in the field of history, archeology and anthropology throughout the years of its history.
She had imagined herself to be in this historic hall many times as a young aspiring archeologist; to be speaking with knowledge and authority on this podium. Today she would be speaking from this podium, but without the knowledge and authority. She will be borrowing from the authority of her uncle - Douglas Miles.
Today, the Society has summoned her to share what she knew of Douglas' exploration in Alaska. It had recently become known to her that the institute is oblivious to her uncle's 'special' activity which is considered a breach of the institute's protocol on the part of her uncle. Their key to, perhaps, a few explanation lies in her being Douglas' apprentice. She was the only one they have who could possibly shed a hint of light.
She is being called upon as a witness, not as a learned speaker, but then again, she wouldn't want to miss this opportunity to be engaged with the Society anyhow.
So in the name of her uncle, Douglas Miles, a very credible and highly-esteemed name in the field of archeology, she will deliver it to them: what she understood of her uncle's work. However, she knows all too well that it won't be easy, as what she is about to deliver is certain to stir things up.
Today, Lindsey Miles is about to unfold a long forgotten myth.
In today's world, where somehow nothing much is left unexplained regarding the history of the world, anything that is empirically unproven is deemed as a 'myth'. Myths are not what these learned experts would bother to waste their time with.
And yet today she will raise one from the depths of a silent tomb.
Her uncle had dedicated his life to this myth. Now that he is gone, had risked and lost his life over this ardor of his, it is time to deliver the important discovery out of her uncle's unseen journals, to the institute, to the world.
An elderly man seated upfront among a panel of three people gave her the nod to begin. He is the man Lindsey knew very well as Sir Alfred Andrews, the head of the institute.
"My name is Lindsey Miles. I am a freshman archeology student at Yale University," she began over the mouthpiece. "It is a great honor to be invited on this podium today to talk about the late Douglas Miles, who is your great colleague, but who sadly passed away 10 days ago. Unbeknown to you all, he is also my mentor and my uncle, and I was there during his last moments,"
There was a nod of sad confirmation to this across the room. Douglas Miles was a grave loss to the Archeology world.
"I am therefore pleased to take this opportunity, as requested, to share what I know or 'what I think I know'. I am glad for I believe this is something of utmost importance. My uncle...I believe my uncle considers this matter to be of utmost importance."
The room was very silent in her pauses.
"About ten or so years ago," she went on. "Douglas Miles began a research in archeology that this association was not made aware of. A research he preferred to 'keep a secret' for reasons he only could justify,"
That much the association discovered recently.
It was unthinkable that Douglas would do a covert activity which misaligns with how the society works. No one does historical research without the society on top of it - for that is where the prestige of being part of the society stands.
The people were up about their seats now, intrigued. The speaker before them is merely a teenager, who technically has no qualification and caliber to address the society. Recognizing however that she is an important source of information to a seemingly important work that the great Douglas Miles has been covertly working on, they must hear what she has to say.
"There is a legend told by the great philosopher Plato," she began to narrate. "About a great city that is said to have existed thousands of years ago long before the advent of any other advanced civilization. According to him, from the dialogues in his literary work Timaeus and Critias, it was a city populated by a noble and powerful race and so advanced in its time. It was told that the city displeased the Gods for their arrogance, bringing about its cataclysmic destruction in the deities' powerful hands. In one violent surge, the tides rose and swallowed the great city. The island, its people, its memory, lost forever,"
Lindsey looked up at the dumbstruck audience. She could feel them gripping their seat handles, canes and wine glasses.
"This was a legend no one can prove," she went on, speaking carefully as if treading on fragile ice. "Thus, over the years it has been reduced to a myth and a fanciful notion for no conclusive evidence can prove its existence,"
She can see that the people were thinking; their foreheads contorting. She stood quietly as she knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before -
"Preposterous!" someone exclaimed.
Then in one great surge, a pandemonium of disconcertment aroused among them.
"I see what this is all about!" someone stood up to say.
"She is practically talking about the city of Atlantis!"
"She is making a mockery of the great Douglas Miles!"
"Downright preposterous!"
"Absurd, very absurd,"
Lindsey knew she had this coming alright - but she did not expect it at this intensity.
"Continue, Ms Miles," directed Sir Andrews as he asked everyone to hush down.
Lindsey nodded. "As you are all aware, I am talking about the lost empire of Atlantis. But as I understand, this is officially a myth. Many have tried to find evidence of its existence but failed..."
People were now thinking on their seats, their faces marked with derision and some amazement; perhaps trying to recall the whole mythology in their mental library.
The existence of Atlantis had long been an age-old mystery. For decades it remained a popular subject of interest. It stayed on the list of historical significance for centuries but no one can prove its existence. Eventually it became an established folk tale and died a natural death in the advent of the new era of knowledge explosion where everything in question must be empirically proven and backed up with substantial evidence. In this new era, much of the historical era has been substantiated due to the development of modern technology in archeological and anthropological research, however, Atlantis remained ambiguous. Studies regarding it long came to a halt. It was then very surprising for these people that someone should bring it up now and asserting that the claim belongs to the credible Douglas Miles.
She took a deep breath, dropped her eyes mournfully, saying, "until three months ago when my uncle went up to Alaska,"
She narrated in summary the things that had transpired in that cave temple in Alaska.
When she was finished, skeptical faces were the marked reactions of the audience.
"I woke up in the hospital after I had supposedly unlocked that seal. I was told that some WDF pilot brought me there..." she lowered her head, "and... uncle."
"A rescuer?" Sir Alfred incited.
"I do not know for certain. I didn't get the chance to meet him nor ask him how he came to be in my aid but he could have just been passing by,"
If there is an opportunity, Lindsey would want to find him and ask him what he saw since she didn't know what happen after she fell unconscious.
Sir Alfred on the other hand is thinking that the soldier's coincidental 'dropping in' is something that they can look into for evidence. However, that is not the main thing right now. "What did Douglas make out of all these?" he inquired from Lindsey.
"My uncle believes that he has discovered one of the hidden ancient monuments of Atlantis,"
"Which has disappeared, nowhere to be seen? Just like that?" someone from the audience asked.
"Ah...yes...I..."
"Continue Lindsey," Sir Alfred prodded.
At this point, Lindsey presented a visual of handwritings on paper with strange characters.
"This was the inscription on the sphere's base stand," Lindsey recalled seeing those inscriptions on the pedestal. "He copied it on this piece of paper and translated it as---"
"Wait-" Sir Alfred interjected. "Translated?"
A buzz grew out of the crowd again.
"Uh..." Lindsey realized that she has just inadvertently revealed shocking information, "...yes," she opted to say.
There was a bewildering reaction from the people. Everyone was dumbfounded.
"Studying the language of Atlantis, I think that would have formed part of his research," she resolved to say.
"What's the translation according to Douglas?" Sir Andrews asked, suddenly anxious.
Lindsey nodded and read from her notes:
"The key shall reveal the four monuments of Atlantis, the royal tower will be unveiled."
Lindsey momentously looked up from her notes at the audience who jeered back at her with baffled faces.
"Those are very cryptic, Ms Miles," noted Sir Andrews.
Lindsey nodded in concordance. "I think my uncle believes that the cave temple in Alaska is one of the four that the inscription was talking about,"
"And the rest of the texts means?" somebody asked.
"Everything... will unlock the secrets of Atlantis..." the words trailed off as she spoke them, remembering that those were her uncle's last words to her.
By now, the people in that room were turning their heads at each other, exchanging thoughts and speculations.
An audience member stood up. "What is this 'Royal Tower'?
Lindsey shook his head. It seems the learned men and women of this room had forgotten that she is not one to have the answers. "I am sorry but I do not have the answers to any of your questions. However in presenting this information I hope that the interest of it can elicit further studies so my uncle's efforts will not go to waste. I don't know much about anything,"
"Douglas obviously knew the Society would not accept this subject matter which would explain his covert efforts on it," remarked Sir Andrews. "How much did he share with you, Ms Miles. How much do you know?"
Lowering her head, she responded wryly, "Uncle Doug never shared anything about it,"
That was true and the reason for it eluded her. Lindsey, as her uncle's apprentice, thought she knew all of her uncle's agenda until recent times when she learned that her uncle had been keeping her out of this Atlantis operation of his. But why keep her out of it all this time and then tell her upon his death that this quest is something that is of utmost importance to her? Now her uncle could never give her the answer.
"What about you Ms Miles? What can you make out of all these?" prodded Sir Andrews.
Lindsey nodded eagerly. "I believe that this research is substantial, sir, that in his being able to find the shrine, it would mean that he has already put half of the pieces of the mystery of Atlantis together. I believe that the inscription is somewhat a clue not bound in the past. The sphere...it wasn't so archaic in its design...in everything. It was..." she groped for the word, 'modern',"
She went on. "I mean, this is a very extensive matter that this society should look into. We could finally uncover the ruins of Atlantis!"
She went on. "You've seen the hollowed mountain top ---"
"There is no shrine Ms Miles," Sir Andrews bluntly pointed out. "Our operatives have turned that place upside down but there was nothing there. Nothing at all,"
"But it was there. I saw it with my own eyes. Perhaps that pilot who came saw it,"
"Do you believe that Atlantis is real Ms Miles?" someone asked.
Lindsey hesitated for a moment at that. She hadn't asked herself that question. Taking her answer from within, she finally uttered to herself, "I feel...that it's real,"
"What's that, Ms Miles?"
Lindsey looked upon the Society head. "I have seen the monument itself, sir. Yes, I believed Atlantis is real,"
"Preposterous!" someone yelled out.
"She is making fun of this institute!" said another one.
"You are making a mockery of your great uncle, young lady,"
"I wouldn't---" she recoiled.
Sir Alfred got up to hush down the body. Then turning to Lindsey he said, "Do you know Ms Miles that your uncle is one of the firm believers that Atlantis is a myth? He was one of those who petitioned for the case to be closed 30 years ago."
Lindsey was surprise to hear that.
"Your uncle is one of the respected leaders of this Society. All this is uncharacteristic of him,"
"Sir-" Lindsey tried to interject but Sir Andrews went on.
"You are a promising young archeologist, Ms Miles, and we appreciate your theories and contention. That is all we have to hear from you today,"
"I did not make this all up, sir," Lindsey uttered.
"Thank you for being here with us. We appreciate your ideas. We don't know what Douglas was up to but it certainly is not Atlantis, Ms Miles. Atlantis is, as it is, a myth, as has been proven time and again,"
Turning to the body, he said, "This conference is adjourned,"
The audience began to move out of their seats rapidly, back to their busy lives.
Oh, uncle, now what? She gushed in her head. Why were you up to really.....?