I sat in my favorite chair looking over my itinerary. I had been planning this trip for months and I had wanted everything to be perfect. A whole quarter, alone in the wilderness. No students, no job pressures, no deans criticizing my budget proposals. It was long time since I had enjoyed solitude, so I was going to make the most of this trip.
Ms. Hunt had already packed my belongings into suitcases, resting at the foot of my bed. She had worked for my family as long as I could remember, and when my parents passed away, she stayed there for me. Despite the size of my home, she was the only member of the staff that I needed.
On top of the luggage was a small handwritten note. "Hope you enjoy the trip, I'll see you in three months." She was off to New York to visit relatives in my absence. We both made a pact that we would make the best of the time off, and only call each other in case of dire emergency.
I walked down to the hall into the den. I had letters that needed to be put in the mail slot outside before I left. Just as I picked up the letters the phone rang. I wasn't expecting anyone to call. Something told me that I shouldn't answer it, not today. I didn't want to risk it being something that could interfere with my trip.
I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello there," the voice on the other end answered. It was Mark DeForest, the Dean of the University.
"How are you doing, sir?" I asked.
"Fine, fine," he replied. "Listen, I'm glad I caught you before you left. I have somebody coming over to visit you."
"What?" I stammered. "Who? For what purpose?"
The Dean had done this before, put me on the spot as a favor to an old friend. I was the best archaeologist the school had and my talents had become well known to my students, my peers, and my superiors. He was probably going to have me look at an arrowhead a rich alumni had found in their backyard.
"It's Ms. Miller if you must know," DeForest said. "She's bringing over a bunch of books her brothers were working on."
Ms. Miller? I couldn't believe it. "When is she coming?" I asked.
"She should be over at any minute."
"I'll be ready for her," I replied and hung up the phone.
Ms. Miller was the sole survivor of the Miller family. Her three brothers were great explorers that had been reported missing some ten years earlier. By missing, I mean completly vanished off the face of the Earth. Their remains were never found, and nobody was even quite sure where to start looking. There were those in my profession that considered it a scandal of some sort, while others (myself included) presumed it to be a mystery for future archeologists to solve.
Since their disappearance, Washington University was practically on its knees trying to obtain some of the artifacts from the Miller brothers' prized collection. It was an ethical dilema that some peole in my profession keep their treasures for personal collections. Not that they ever hid anything, but at the time of their disappearance they did have a large collection of items that they were still doing research on.
Unfortunately, Ms. Miller was very sentimental and even more headstrong. The artifacts remained at her estate, sitting in boxes collecting dust. She probably didn't even know what half of the them were. Then again, my colleagues and myself had no idea how much the Miller brothers had found. It was a joke in archeological circles that some of the greatest treasures in the world could very well be only 15 miles away from the school.
As much as it inconvenienced me, I would see Ms. Miller, receive whatever she brings for me, and that's it. DeForest has waited for ten years to get his hands on something the Millers had worked on, he could wait another three months. Yet, while I longed to go away on my vacation, a part of me was secretly delighted to be given the opportunity of being the first to see what Ms. Miller would be loaning to the school.
I went back to my bedroom and checked my appearance. If she had just left the Dean's office, she was probably on Division Street by now. I looked presentable, nothing that would reflect badly on the school. Most of my other clothes were packed away and I didn't want to undo Belinda's work.
I heard the doorbell ring. Damn, she was here already. I hurried down the stairs towards the front door. The doorbell rang again just as I opened the door to greet her. Ms. Miller quickly pulled her finger away from the doorbell button and smiled. "Hello," she said.
Ms. Miller was dressed in a simple dress, a serious appearance for business affairs, but still elegant and fashionable. She occasionally made appearances at social functions at the school, and I don't think I had ever seen appearance look not turn the heads of the teachers.
"Hello," I answered. "How are you doing?" I noticed at her foot there was a large cardboard box.
"Fine, thank you."
She bent down to pick up the box, but I interceded. "Let me," I said.
"I've carried them this far," she replied as she took the box in her arms. "I need to go through with this from start to finish."
I invited her inside and she walked down the main hallway. "Where do you want these?"
I was a bit surprised by her question. She sounded more like hired help than a guest. "The den," I replied. "Just up the stairs."
She walked up the stairs and down the hall as if she had known the way. My parents had known her family from our respective work, but I don't believe she was ever in my house before.
She walked in the den and set the box on the middle of my desk. I noticed a date inscribed on the box with a large marker. It was a month or so before the Miller brothers were reported missing.
Ms. Miller turned around to face me. "I've already told Mr. DeForest, and I am going to tell you the same thing, just for the record.
"My brothers were great men and I loved them more than anything. I have no idea what has happened to them, and I doubt that anyone else in the world knows what happened to them either. I mourn their loss, but I realize that they left this world doing what they enjoyed more than anything. They were exploring."
I spoke up, "Ms. Miller, I unders-"
"No, I don't think you do. These artifacts are all I have left to remember them by. It was very difficult to part with any of this. However, because of a promise made by your boss, Mr. DeForest that no harm would come to these artifacts. I brought over these books today. If I am satisfied with how the University treats them I will accept negotiations for the donation of other artifacts."
I walked over to the box and opened it up. Inside were several large old volumes, none of which looked familiar. "How were these acquired?" I asked.
"I'm not quite sure, to be honest," she said. "This box was packed by my brothers shortly before they disappeared. The books were all found in different places. I believe they were trying to catalog them properly."
I picked up one volume and opened it up. It was written in Spanish, and the binding had to be at least a hundred and fifty years old. It would take me awhile to translate the text.
I placed the book back in the box. "I'll take good care of these, Ms. Miller".
For the first time she smiled. "I trust your word," she said. "You may not know it, but my brothers have read of your work before."
"Really?"
"Yes," she said. "They always liked to keep tabs on the local archaeological community."
I was a bit surprised by the compliment. I tried to remember what the quality of my work was like ten years ago. I was quite eager back then, and very prone to jumping to wild conclusions, just like any young archaeologist would do.
"Now, if you will excuse me," she said. "I have to meet with my social club in twenty minutes."
We exchanged good-byes and I escorted Ms. Miller out the door. She went back into her car and drove out through the main gates.
I walked back inside the house, and up the stairs back to my den. I should probably call DeForest and let him know that I received the books.
I picked up the phone and dialed. DeForest answered on the other end in a frantic tone. "Did you get the books?"
"Yes," I replied. "I did."
"What are they?"
I stuck my hand in the box and looked over the spines. "One's Spanish for sure. One looks like it's English, possibly a Colonial American volume."
I heard DeForest squeal with delight on the other end of the phone. I picked up another book and took a look at the cover. While the book was old, it didn't appear to be as old as the others. "Here's a strange one," I said.
I opened the book and took a look at the first couple of pages. At first glance, the script appeared to be Hebrew. I tried to translate a couple of lines in my head. No, it wasn't Hebrew. The characters weren't quite right.
"What is it?" I heard DeForest ask.
"I'm not sure," I replied.
"Listen," DeForest said. "I don't suppose you would want to come by tomorrow morn.... "
"No," I said. "I'm due to leave tonight. I've told you that time and again."
"But that was before we found these books," DeForest said. "They would need to be looked over and cataloged."
"Mark, this isn't rocket science," I said. "Any grad student could catalog these."
"A grad student!?" DeForest said.
"Yes," I replied. "Call up Richard Watson. He's a good worker, and one of the best multi-lingual grad students we have."
I flipped another page of the large volume in front of me. I still couldn't figure out what any of these symbols were. Richard would probably have a hard time figuring out this one.
"Well, when can we pick them up?" he asked.
"I'm leaving soon,"
"I can come over in an hour," he said.
"Fine," I said and hung up the phone.
I took the large book with me as I did a final inspection of the house. The doors were locked, the windows shut, and none of the faucets were running. As I walked down the halls I flipped the pages of the book looking for anything familiar. A notation or a picture that I could understand.
Nothing. The book was indecipherable, and there were no other indicators of its origin.
I walked into my bedroom and sat on my bed, continuing my cursory scans of each page. I reached the end of the book when I finally saw a single image on the last page.
The image was of a small green island sitting in a vast ocean. The picture was surprisingly detailed, with an quality you would expect from a color photograph. This was unheard of in books this old.
I stared intently at the image trying to recall whether or not the island was familiar. Suddenly, the image began to change. The image of the island panned around the coast of the island, allowing me to see the island from all sides.
What is this? How could this be happening?
Slowly, I reached my hand towards the image. I needed to feel the surface of the paper, find out what mechanism was used to create an animating image. The tips of my hand touched the paper and I began to feel a tingling sensation in my arm.
I tried to pull my hand back, but my arm was moving away from me, pushing itself forward into the final page of the book. The sensation grew, flowed through the rest of my body. The room around me began to fade in a bright, pulsing light. Despite the growing numbness of my extremities, I managed to let our a scream for help.
Noooooooooo!
I woke up screaming. The dark silhouettes of the trees surrounded me, blocking the early morning light. I was sleeping next to the giant knife blade, back on Riven. For a moment, I had thought that I was back on Earth, back where I belonged.
Maybe it was because of what Atrus said. Maybe the possibility of returning home that had stirred the dream up. The last time I had dreamt of Earth was over a week ago.
I wondered if anyone there even knew I was gone. They had no reason to believe I was missing yet. For all I know, they probably think I'm on my vacation. I wonder what DeForest would say if I were to tell him what really happened to me.
He'd probably think I was nuts.