Sofeta Prenares was walking on air. Above her, the soft fluffy clouds of the blue Tunisian sky were drifting further and further away. Beneath her, darkness crisscrossed with dusty shafts of light. She felt honored to be spelunking into the long-buried cavernous ruin that had never before been seen by human eyes. The site had remained hidden in the eastern Atlas Mountains for thousands of years before a recent desert windstorm exposed a man-made vent. Her father had thusly nicknamed the site "Ninlil" for the Sumerian goddess of wind. And as she descended, in keeping with its namesake, a delicate vortex softly howled around her, as if Ninlil herself was inviting Sofeta to explore her mysterious depths.
"You still alive up there?" a man's voice called up to her.
She grimaced. The only complaint she had as she surveyed her fantastic surroundings was that she would have to share its exploration with Hendrick. He was a hairy, cocksure man who made no effort to hide just how little respect he had for her. She was nineteen, the project leader's daughter. It was no secret that in spite of her hard work and qualifications, nepotism had secured her place on the team. But, short of packing her bags and leaving a once-in-a-lifetime experience, she knew there was nothing she could do to win him over. She was tired of apologizing.
"It's beautiful," she said, adjusting the speed of her descent. "I was enjoying the view."
"You know what's beautiful?" Hendrick replied, "Getting your ass down here. We don't have all day, greenhorn."
A wave of tension swept over Sofeta's body. As much as she tried to maintain a cool, collected air of professionalism, Hendrick's grating, raspy voice always found a way to get under her skin.
"And don't roll your eyes at me," he added.
"You can't see my eyes."
"I could hear them."
She sighed deeply. Then, with a soft crunch, her boots hit the ground. She took a moment to orient herself, adjusting the light and ventilation mechanism on her mask as Hendrick impatiently detached her from the rappelling cable.
"You look like a deer in headlights," he grunted. "Focus on the task at hand."
"And you sound just like my Tai Chi instructor, except without his admirable patience and wisdom."
"Oh yeah?" Hendrick asked, only half-caring, "What else does he say?"
"To subdue an enemy without fighting is the highest skill," she answered pointedly. "Anyway, my eyes are still adjusting. If I was allowed to rappel slower..."
"Set your headlamp to thirty-two percent."
"Alright," she relented. Although, she mimed the action, because she had of course already done so. But, it was the only way Hendrick could be subdued.
They headed south through a narrow tunnel. 3D composites suggested a large chamber with architectural constructs just beyond the organic, dripping cavern walls. Tangles of long-deceased roots wove in and out of the walls ornamented by fossilized evidence of prehistoric oceanic life. What surprised her was the sound of distant moving water. It seemed the ruins were supplied moisture by an underground stream which meant hidden elsewhere there were entrances other than the man-made vent.
"Water," said Hendrick, echoing her thoughts. "Who knows what sort of eyeless albino life is thriving down here in the darkness. Maybe even a prehistoric creature."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
"Just keep you on your toes. We don't know what might be down here and I want you to react quickly should anything jump out at us."
Hendrick disappeared in front of her, slipping through a tight crevasse. Frankly, she was impressed he could compress his barrel chest and belly enough to fit. It reminded her of a chubby hamster she owned as a child and its uncanny ability to squeeze beneath her bathroom door in order to hide behind the toilet. She followed suit, stepping through the space with relative ease compared to her hulking, hamster-like supervisor.
"Would you get a load of that?" admired Hendrick before Sofeta could even turn to see what he was referring to. It was indeed something to "get a load of."
Two small shafts of light seeped into the chamber spot-lighting an ancient bridge set over the underground stream. Beyond it, an apex of toppled and balanced alabaster columns. Certainly, it was a larger and more intact ruin than anticipated.
Hendrick lit a few flares, tossing them to select locations, adding a flickering orange glow to the space and revealing more of the structure. Steps, archways, walkways, and dried-up pools were illuminated, casting dancing shadows against the dewy rock canopy.
Sofeta was captivated.
"Should we wait for Keiko and Dr. Del Vecchio?" she asked, despite her overwhelming urge to explore.
"As soon as they get down here and catch up to us, they're just going to make us help schlep their gear."
"Isn't that one of our number-one directives?" she countered, "To get a more thorough composite of this place?"
"For the project, yes," said Hendrick. "But I didn't get into this line of work to paint computer pictures. I came here to discover. You can wait here for them or come with me. Your choice."
She considered his words. She couldn't just let him go alone, she reasoned. Granted, any justification that allowed her to explore was reason enough.
He walked towards the bridge to investigate, Sofeta following more cautiously behind him. It appeared to be made of some long-petrified crystalized wood and featured intricate carvings of twisting, leafy vines. A variety of bioluminescent lichens lived in the stream below, their blue glow in stark contrast to the flickering orange that now dominated the cave.
Hendrick traipsed across the bridge without taking note of the natural phenomena, his boot-prints leaving a confident, undeniable trail for Sofeta to follow. She winced; worried she would play a part in destroying a relic of history her father had worked so hard to uncover.
"Relax," said Hendrick, reading her mind yet again, "It's not even the actual bridge anymore. It's been petrified for so long, it's no different from stepping on these rocks."
"Those are probably priceless tiles that could tell us much about the people who built this structure."
"Well, they're rocks now," he spat. "This spot's existed for centuries unharmed by the elements and teeming life down here. Unless I swing a sledge hammer around, there's nothing I can do to hurt it."
"Dr. Prenares might disagree with you."
"He's your dad, Sof. Just call him dad. You're not fooling anyone."
He walked away from her to examine a fallen column decorated with ancient carvings. She joined him, happy to have something interesting to look at other than the top of his butt crack which exposed itself as he crouched.
"Ha ha, look at this," he said pointing to a depiction of what looked to be an animal in profile.
Sofeta didn't understand at first what he found so amusing. Generally such a reaction from Hendrick was reserved for the discovery of fertility idols with disproportionate organs.
"It's a terrible carving. I don't know what it's supposed to be, but it looks like a beaver with three legs."
"Oh weird," said Sofeta, "I actually like it."
"You would."
Sofeta pulled out her notepad to make a quick digital rubbing of the image.* Hendrick didn't wait for her. Opting to move on, he reached up onto the fallen column and pulled himself up. Ancient alabaster chipped and crumbled beneath his feet.
"Where are you going?"
"These old Phoenician temples are so predictable," he replied, grunting, "I'm climbing up to the center chamber. That's where all the most priceless treasures will be."
She watched him struggle, navigating the spill of artifacts with the grace of a newborn elephant. Instead of taking his lead, she turned right following the natural flow of the architecture to a series of arches crowning a curved staircase. She ascended the stairs, noting the same vined pattern; this time ornamented with jade-colored tile and turquoise stone. There were glyphs on the wall too; chiseled with precision like Romans did with codes of law on their own ruins. Suspicions that the temple was not Phoenician in origin crept into her mind. Her father, no doubt, would be intrigued.
To her left at the top of the stairs was a spiral patterned platform surrounded by four discernibly humanoid statues, long distorted by erosion. Each seemed to point to a broken down door on the far wall. Hendrick pulled himself up to the platform. He looked surprised to see Sofeta. Then, noticing the stairs behind her, he grimaced.
"Wipe that smug look off your face," he said walking towards the center of the platform, assessing the design. "A Spiral. The Minoans associated it with wisdom."
"And some early Asian cultures with insanity," she added.
"Are we in Asia?"
"Is this a Minoan ruin?" she shot back.
"There's sufficient crossover between Phoenician and Minoan culture," Hendrick explained. "You'd think a Greek girl would know more about her own heritage. Now help me move this door."
As he began walking towards the door, a glint of light caught Sofeta's eyes. A taught length of wire was a foot away from Hendrick.
"Careful," she said, pointing it out to him, "Trip wire."
"You think this place has traps?" he scoffed. "You've seen too many old films." He punctuated his thought by sticking out his foot and stepping on the wire. Suddenly, three sets of iron barbs shot out from opposite directions nearly grazing Hendrick's nose.
"That was... unexpected," he stammered.
"Or it was karma," Sofeta muttered.
"I don't believe in that garbage."
"What, karma? You don't believe our actions have any spiritual cause and effect? Collective conscience? Phenomena that cannot yet be explained?"
"I value science," said Hendrick, "Not mysticism."
"Things once considered mystical or unexplainable have in this past century proven scientifically observable. People used to not believe in alien life and now O'Van and Rask walk among us."
"Can we just move this door?"
Sofeta nodded. They both took a hold of the half-fallen door. It was heavy and dragging it aside with their combined strength was no easy chore.
"What is this, galena?" Sofeta huffed.
"Less questions, more pushing." Hendrick's face was redder than usual.
They were finally able to lean it against a column. Hendrick panted, his hands against his knees. He was grumbling to himself, something about how little help she had been and how he wished she were Dr. Prenares's son instead. Clearly he had never met her brother, Loukas. Sure, he resembled her, black hair and green eyes as was trademark to the Prenares brood, but he was far more impulsive and likely would have punched Hendrick in the face long ago. She had a vivid image of this fantasy. Hendrick would go down hard. Loukas worked out and often wore rings.
She allowed these thoughts to subside as she investigated the door. Though coated in centuries of sediment, the surface had a noticeable luster and she was unable to determine if it were metal or mineral. It was adorned with more vine work that coiled and spiraled towards a central figure. Beneath the figure, several smaller bodies knelt in prayer. They were not in the posture of adoration, she noted, but of fear. Perhaps this was an image that foretold of some kind of warning.
"I don't get it," said Hendrick.
It took her a moment to realize that he had moved on to the next chamber. She stepped away from the door and through the opening they had revealed. Hendrick was standing in the middle of the room scratching his head. He was standing in dirt, she realized. The tile in the space ended a quarter-way in at an ornate stonework border. From there on, the rest of the room was filled with soft soil, fresh for planting. There were a few vases, but no statue or treasure to speak of. Beyond the soil was wide archway that sat flush against the cavern wall.
"What don't you get?"
"Well," he explained, moseying over to the archway without looking back at her, "There's an archway here with no structural purpose. This is the natural cave wall." He knocked the stone with his knuckle. "This doorway don't go nowhere."
"Maybe it's ornamental."
"Maybe," he shrugged, "But it's a lot of work carving out rock to perfectly fit these heavy stones. It's more like they wanted to put a window here, but settled for just the frame. Weird."
"I thought you'd be more confused by this soil."
He looked at her, as he often did, like she was an idiot.
"It's dirt."
"Yes," she said, crouching. She ran her hands through it. "But it's perfect for gardening. Nothings growing in here, nothing's living. Not even fungus."
"It's salted."
Sofeta smelled the soil.
"I'm not so sure. But even then, there should be something and there's not."
But then there was something; a turquoise disk about two inches in diameter became unearthed beside her hand. It was etched with a symbol, a circle intersecting another circle like a Venn diagram. It was flat and smooth like a coin and cool to her touch. She polished it with her thumb. Perhaps it was because she alone had found it, but it held a quality that made her cherish it more than any other relic she had ever held. It felt important.
"What do you got there?" asked Hendrick.
She stood, holding it. "It looks like a coin."
He walked over to her and she handed it to him so he could appraise it. He ran his finger along the etching as if it were in braille. As he did, she followed her gaze over his shoulder to the mysterious arch. On the keystone was an identical coin within a slot carved perfectly to hold it.
"There's another one," she said, pointing.
Hendrick turned his head to look at it.
"So there is," he said. "So, not a coin, just a decoration for useless archways." He handed it back to her. "You gonna keep it?"
"What? No, I was going to catalogue it."
Hendrick smirked. "Or you can keep it. I won't tell. I know you've been to some of your dad's other digs. I know you both are sticklers for the rules. But I also know that look. You want it for yourself. And why shouldn't you? You found it. You're holding onto a piece of history that you found. And if you found it so easily, I'm sure there are others just lying around."
"Have you ever taken anything from a site?"
Hendrick didn't quite answer her. He tilted his head to one side. And if there was any inclination, it was too hard to see beneath his mask.
"You're not robbing the public of their history," he assured her. "You're just bringing home a keepsake. It found you."
Sofeta furrowed her brow looking at the object in her palm. Hendrick's logic was anything but sound, but she did want it. She wasn't even really sure why. The voice inside that wanted to follow protocol was fading away. Then, before she could actually reach a decision, it had found its way into her pocket.
"Hello?" a voice echoed through the cavern. It was Keiko, Dr. Del Vecchio's assistant.
"Yeah!" Hendrick called back. "We're in the back of the ruin!"
There was a moment of silence, both sides instantly annoyed with the other.
"Well, can you come back here and help us with the cameras?"
Hendrick sighed at Sofeta. It was the only time he appeared to feel any kinship with her; when they were both being forced to do something boring.
"Yeah," he said finally.
He stretched his arms over his head and yawned as if instantly stricken with immobilizing fatigue. But somehow he managed to turn and started lumbering towards the door with exaggeratedly slumped shoulders, Sofeta following behind.
"You know we can use the stairs this time," she teased.
Hendrick glared at her. "You know I could bury you in that soil back there."
Sofeta smiled, almost glad that their momentary camaraderie was again broken. Her fingers toyed with the artifact in her pocket.
...
It had been six months since The Terra Prospect crashed unceremoniously into Gate Delta Eleven and still news personalities and political pundits were voicing their opinions on the tragedy and the alien project leaders that allowed it to occur. Very little blame seemed to be placed on the shoulders of Daran Chree, the human man who allegedly set the events in motion and had not been seen since. The surviving blackbox evidence that detailed his reprogramming of the ship's AI and timely escape was not enough for Earth's most extreme loyalists. Ever since first contact, nearly thirty-five years prior, the media found ways to paint humanity in a positive light. Though, the effort was often tediously transparent. Sofeta considered this as she sipped her chai latte. The Rask and the O'Van, two very different species, worked together, voyaging through space for centuries as equal partners. They had brought a Gate from lightyears away to Earth's solar system and invited humanity to join them amongst the stars. If there was one thing that was abundantly clear, it was that the aliens were not the problem; we were.
"What still, to this day, has not been truthfully specified," said a legislator, "Is what the Rask and O'Van want from us in return. They profess altruism, and feed us lines like, 'It is fated we integrate with their societies.' When in our history, I ask you, has any advanced civilization pulled another up by its bootstraps purely out of the kindness of its heart?"
"They profess altruism," repeated an analyst as the legislator nodded, "But their actions show a distinct lack of care for our personal well-being. Human lives were lost in the failure that was the Terra Prospect project, a project intended to prove we are ready to enjoy the same quality of life as they do. Why must we prove this? Meanwhile people are sick with illnesses the Aliens have the technology to cure. This isn't kindness, it's manipulation."
She turned away from the vid screen assaulting her senses with tired media coverage and focused instead on a young family sitting at a table nearby. A short mustached man sat next to his beautiful Rask wife and their twin sons. It was becoming a more common sight in recent years. The Rask had a particular attraction to them. They were tall, often around seven feet, thin with tan, nearly orange skin, almond-eyed, and diminutive, flat noses. Barring a small patch of blonde hair growing from the very top of their head, they were hairless, their skin slick and smooth like a salamander. Fashion designers embraced them as muses and runway models. Human men and women alike were attracted to their poise, mystique, and calm, intellectual personalities. It didn't take long for the species to discover that they, unlike the O'Van, were sexually compatible with humans and bonds thusly were formed. Rask were always born in twos and that genetic predisposition appeared to have been passed to the twin boys who displayed an interesting combination of their parents' features while happily nibbling on chocolate-dipped biscotti.
Sofeta was aboard an Airbux, a high-speed helicraft disguised as a coffee shop, traveling from Kasserine, Tunisia to Cape Town, South Africa. The dry heat of The Atlas Mountains and the site of Ninlil was becoming a memory. She barely said goodbye Keiko, Hendrick, and Dr. Del Vecchio. She was scheduled to see them again in two days when they would present their findings in person to her father. Dr. Prenares himself was busy giving a presentation at a conference in Helsinki. "The world has become so small," elders would always say. It was a stock phrase that was used so often that Sofeta found it amusing. Certainly the fact that she could easily travel to see her boyfriend in another country for two days was a marvel; leave Kasserine in the afternoon and be in Cape Town in time for a late dinner. But it was more than that. Aliens on earth from light-years away who had mastered space travel had a way of making the planet feel so insignificant. She wondered how humanity could ever secure a foothold beside them.
"It's disgusting, isn't it?" uttered a female voice.
She was a very put-together woman in her thirties. Ash-blonde hair up in a bun, a coral-colored business suit with a pencil skirt. Probably a real-estate agent for coastal vacation homes. She was in stark contrast to Sofeta who, in her black tank-top, boots, and shorts, likely still had millennia-old dust in her messy braid of hair.
"The news?" she asked, though the show had moved on to a fluff piece about a duo of dancing dachshunds from Romania.
"The family, if you can even call it that," the woman said, gesturing to the half-Rask children and their parents. "Disgusting," she repeated. "I bet he found her on one of those sites. Too scared and pathetic to date a human, has to live out some fantasy and worse, bring children into the depravity. I mean honestly, it's sick.
Sofeta swallowed hard. What had given this woman the impression that she would agree with a word she just said?
"They look happy," she said, trying to steer her in a positive direction.
The woman sneered. "Well, looks can be deceiving."
She returned to her bagel and magazine, having said what she wanted to say. Sofeta remained looking at her with narrowed eyes, still processing her bigotry. She wanted to tell her off. She wanted to say that she was the one who was sick and depraved. But to do so would require the sort of courage she felt she so often lacked. Instead, she downed her chai, swallowed her opinions, and walked away from her.
She resituated herself away from the bar by the large bay window. Students sat at tables nearby drinking coffee and messaging friends with untouched homework sitting in front of them. Outside, the world sped by, deserts, oases, forests, lakes, and savannahs. Any faster and she would feel like she were in space. She imagined the blur beneath her as a clouded nebula, the sun bouncing of rivers and lakes, a body of twinkling stars.
She considered her father's interests which he had passed on to her, searching into the past to uncover long-lost secrets of humanity's origins. But they were the artifacts of just one world and there were so many more in the universe. The Rask and O'Van presence alone was testament to that. Maybe Hendrick was right to believe she had no place on dig sites with her father's team. That was his life, his adventure. Perhaps it was time that she uncovered her own.
*Take a look at Sofeta's Notebook to view this rubbing as well as other sketches and points of reference in this story.