Archive for the ‘Archaeology’ Category
The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Fourteen
June 18, 2011
Magdalena de Paz, Peru
Sanderson http://www.CyrusSanderson.blogspace9.ex
Bruce, I want you to go to the Consulate. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t meet with anyone. I’m on my way. There’s more to this than meets the eye, so please be careful. I will explain when I see you.
June 18, 2011
Magdalena de Paz, Peru
Cavalcante http://www.diggirl.blogspace9.ex
Bruce, what the hell? How did this all spin out of control so fast? Please call me, please contact me any way you can. I’m terrified for you. Who are these people who kidnapped you? I can only hope you made it to safety, but I need to hear your voice.
I don’t know if that was the police or not in your last post, but they were right about one thing – you are a wanted man. Cyrus checked with the State Department and with the consulate in Seville, and guess what? The police are looking for you in connection with the murder of an Archive guard.
We know you didn’t do it, Bruce. God, of course you didn’t do it, but you need to go to the consulate as soon as possible. They’ll turn you over to the Spanish police. There’s nothing we can do about that, but at least you’ll be safe. Cyrus left for Lima about an hour ago. He’s going to fly to Seville. Leon wants to go too, but we need him here for now.
And things aren’t going so well here either. The police came this morning - that guy from Chocope who sits outside the bank. Remember, with the mirrored sunglasses and the Game Boy? He came speeding up the driveway on his moped to investigate. He wanted to see the body, but guess what? Yup, you guessed it, the body is gone.
Erdulfo claims he left the body behind the shed, but it’s not there anymore. And the policeman didn’t even want to talk to Segovia, isn’t that strange? Segovia fires a weapon, kills a man, and doesn’t even get interviewed as part of the investigation.
And Bruce, what the hell is Mallus Momias? Is that what we’re dealing with here - a book about how to respond to mummy uprisings? Hammer of the Mummies? Is that what this is all about? Father Sebastiano’s diary is the definitive primer on how to protect yourself from the undead? Are you laughing, Bruce? Because I am. I’m weeping with hysteria.
Mummies. Maybe that’s what last night’s visitor was, a walking mummy, a dead Indian who crawled out of his grave for vengeance. You know something, I’m not ready to accept that. I’m a scientist. I believe the science is our most reliable source of information about the world we live in. And science has no room for walking mummies.
We die one day, each one of us, and what transpires after that is not something that can be investigated via the scientific method. But it surely doesn’t involve yet more movement, yet more cognition, yet more conscious thought.
Erdulfo has us on lockdown here. We’re not even going out to the site today unless we can make some sense of our senseless world. And we’re not getting too far along on that front either. I’m sitting here sick with worry. Segovia is down with some kind of fever; that scratch on his face doesn’t look good. Kim is tending to him. And Leon has his face in that jug of mescaline, so he’s not much use either.
I thought about leaving today. I thought about running for the nearest plane, going to Spain to find you. But Cyrus went instead, and he left me in charge. And like I said, baby, I’m a scientist. I’ve got to see this through. Call me, text me, something me.
June 18, 2011
Magdalena de Paz, Peru
Castillo http://www.bellisima.blogspace9.ex
Greetings! Kim here - I’m a scientist too, boys and girls, or at least a scientist in training. But my mother died when I was four years old, and for the next ten years, she sat by my bedside every night until I fell asleep. And yes, I know what you’re going to say. Well guess what, I don’t believe in ghosts either. So how do I explain it? I don’t bother trying to.
I was going to make this brief, but Segovia is asleep finally. He’s not doing so well but at least the fever broke. I’ll check on him in a bit, but we have work to do. And until we decide to bug out, we might as well make some progress on that work in the hopes that it will illuminate our present condition.
Malleus Momias – let’s talk about that. Lane, you’re not willing to believe in the existence of walking mummies because you’re a scientist? Get over yourself. Science is a comprehensive yet limited system for investigating natural phenomena. If there are mummies walking around our world, and apparently there are, then let’s understand that they are a natural phenomenon. They just haven’t been studied. They’re like some species of butterfly that flits at the edge of the village at dusk, but is never seen in broad daylight.
There is more here than meets the eye, Cyrus wrote in his last entry. You know what, Boss? It would have been nice if you had clued us in before you left. Because now we have to figure everything out on our own. So let’s get started.
One of the many elephants currently squeezed into our already crowded room is this gigantic Ultraviolet scanner that came a couple of days ago. I Googled the model. It’s not even commercially available. It’s military hardware still under development, and it’s worth about two hundred thousand dollars. Who sent it to us? We don’t know. But that’s OK, because it works like a son of a bitch.
So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in four hundred and thirty-one years, I give you Father Sebastiano Gota’s diary, translated into English by yours truly:
“Malleus Momias” - Hammer of the Mummies
“Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi 1580” - year of our lord 1580
“Padre, padre, me perseguian.”
Father, father, they are following me. This is the message I sent to my superior, Father Vasco de Cuellar, whose own church in Chocope (a ride of one hour perhaps) is considerably grander than my own. It is Father Vasco who delivered me here to Magdalena some months ago. And it is he who I have come to consider my closest confidant during these harrowing times.
I write this journal in secret because it is an unholy document, written in an unholy place. But write it I must. I daresay that if I do not, the time of human men will soon come to an end. May we be called to the side of Jesus when the time comes, but this, this is something altogether different. I speak of nothing other than the gates of hell opening onto our world.
My name is Sebastiano Alfonso Gota. My father, may the Lord in his heavenly wisdom bless his eternal soul, was Don Efrain Gota of Caceres, Extremadura. I am a priest in the service of Our Lord, and in the service of Our King Phillip III. I am twenty-five years old, and I am damned.
///error: connection terminated at server///
SEND REPORT / DON’T SEND REPORT
The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Thirteen
June 18, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex
////auto-refresh/// connection re-established
battery at 1%, connect to power supply to prevent data from being lost
voice activation mode: enabled
indiv 1: <yelling>
<background noise excessive>
indiv 1) “Help me, someone. Anybody.”
battery low; preparing to hibernate
June 18, 2011
Cupertino, CA
Administrator http://www.admin.blogspace9.ex
Our analysts have recently detected an unauthorized user on your account. Pursuant with your contract, all users must be identified and processed in advance. Yet we have no paperwork on the individual identifying as ‘Perdido.’ Please advise.
Our analysts are also concerned about the safety of your project personnel. Mr. Segovia shared with us, via satellite phone, some of the details of your intruder last night. He has indicated that he will continue his investigation, and that he can continue to guarantee your safety. Our confidence in Mr. Segovia is absolute.
It would appear, however, that Dr. Hanson, is under some duress. His connection was briefly reestablished this morning. We lost it in under a minute, but were able to locate his position. He is still in Seville, no more than 500 yards from the Archive. Be advised that our search for Dr. Hanson is already underway. Pursuant to section 6.1.29 of you contract, we are activating several additional software modules which may be of use:
1) Latin to English language translator
2) long-life backup battery activator to restore power
3) GPS tracking
4) Eavesdrop – an embedded code that allows us to log in remotely while the computer appears to be off
5) Mayday – the emergency responder packet that you were advised of in the contract. When the Mayday login credentials are entered, the user is incapacitated.
June 18, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex
////auto-refresh/// connection re-established
long-life battery at 100%
Eavesdrop: enabled
“…when we have satisfied ourselves that you are telling the truth. Now answer my questions.”
“I’ve already told you everything I know. Why am I tied up? Where am I?”
“How did you come to learn of this book?”
“What book?”
“The journal from the Gota archive – Sebastiano Gota’s personal account of his time in the Americas. It is not in the public domain.”
“I told you, I was investigating names from our excavation documents. Can I get some water, please?”
“Who have you told about the book?”
“I posted the name to the blog. Probably a couple of hundred thousand people know about it by now.”
“I doubt that. Who are you working with here in Seville?”
“I’m not working with anyone. Look, I don’t know who you are, but I am an American citizen. People are looking for me.”
“They won’t find you. These documents you refer to, who else has seen them?”
“My colleagues in Peru. Can you at least tell me where I am? The man who came in earlier is a policeman. I recognize him from when I was at the police station. Am I under arrest?”
“No. Can those documents be brought here?”
“Where is here?”
<sound of bottle breaking>
“I don’t think you fully understand the severity of your situation. You will be detained here until you have answered my questions or until you die. You are researching a very sensitive subject that interests my employer.”
“Then let me get back to the Archive so I can do more research.”
<sound of laughter>
“Those days are over for you, my friend. You should know that the police are looking for you. There’s the matter of the murdered guard at the Archive. The gun was found in your backpack. Apparently you were trying to steal a priceless document.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your picture is all over town. Even if you were to escape from here, you wouldn’t get far. No airports, no train station, no bus station. No, Dr. Hanson, you’ll be staying with us here in Spain for some time.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“We’ll have a TV brought in later; you can watch the news. You killed a family man. You’ll go to jail for a long time.”
“You know I didn’t kill anyone. This is a set-up.”
“You mentioned you had already been to the police station, do you recall?”
“Yes, I went there because I had a run in with a gypsy.”
“I have your statement right here. You were detained by the police after concerns were raised by Archive personnel. You were planning to steal a document.”
“That’s a lie.”
“We believe you contracted to sell it to a known criminal, a Mr. Melchor Sacramonte.”
“That’s a lie. That’s the gypsy guy I was complaining about.”
“We have a copy of the police report. It was signed by the officers who detained you.”
“I was not detained. I went on my own. I filed a complaint.”
<sound of papers>
“Is this your signature?”
“Yes…..but that’s not what I signed. No, I signed a complaint about…”
“You signed a confession.”
“But….”
“You were advised to leave Spain, but instead you returned to the Archive. You waited until it closed, killed the guard, and tried to leave with the document.”
“None of that happened.”
“Perhaps you’re right. It will be up to a jury to decide.”
“What do you want?”
“I want the documents your colleagues have discovered. I want the exact coordinates of the hoard, and I want the Malleus Momias book.”
“The hoard? What hoard? What is Malleus Momias? What the hell are you talking about?”
<excessive background noise>
“…if you insist on pretending you don’t understand, I will cut your fingers off. We’ll begin immediately. Please excuse me while I retrieve my pliers.”
“Wait…”
<sound of door being shut>
<sound of door being opened>
<sound of crash>
“Oh, god.”
“You know who I am, young man?”
“You’re one of those gypsy guys who pushed me into the room with the dead man.”
“I am pleased you remember. You are a man with few friends. I am one of those friends.”
“Did you just kill the guard outside the door?”
“Very likely. You must come now.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I am cutting the restraints from your wrists. Let me show you something.”
“There’s nothing written on that card. It’s just a green wagon wheel.”
“He is the only person who can keep you safe.”
“Wait, you mean Sacromonte?”
“Will you come with me now?”
“Yes. Let me grab my computer.”
The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Twelve
June 17, 2011
Magdalenade Paz, Peru
Cavalcante http://www.diggirl.blogspace9.ex
Bruce, I don’t know who is more scared right now, you or me. We’ve had a rough night, and it sounds like you have too. Cyrus just tried calling you but the phone line is out. The router and the modem are both down. The generator is kaput. And yet Blogspace is still up. I can’t explain it. It must have something to do with these computers they sent us. I still don’t know what kind they are because the logo is in Chinese.
If you’re there, baby, please get online. Sure, being locked in the archive isn’t fun, but I’m hoping that it was just a fluke, that the police came and got you out. Cyrus says he’ll go into town in the morning, to call the consulate in Seville if we haven’t heard from you. We’d go into town tonight, except that we have a dead body out by the pool. Well, it was out by the pool a little while ago. Erdulfo moved it. More on that in a minute.
Leon swears that he did not send you those Latin messages. And since I was out at the site with him all afternoon, I’m inclined to believe him. But this is an encrypted system, so it’s not clear how someone managed to get in and post something. If you asked me two hours ago, I would have said it was probably a hacker, or someone goofing around. But after what happened here tonight, I’m not so sure.
I didn’t mention this, but yesterday morning we found a jug of liquid up the pyramid. Kim had climbed up top to have a smoke, and she found it sitting against the wall. Probably some kids left it there when they climbed up to smoke pot. That was my thinking.
But Leon, being Leon, tasted it. And he said it was that mescaline drink that shamans make from the San Pedro cactus. Now, we know that the shamans still do their occasional ceremonies on top of the larger pyramids, but I haven’t seen them out here on our piddling, crumbling mound. So I don’t know what to make of it.
Needless to say, Leon has been nipping at this beverage throughout the day. On one hand, this is good because it gives him almost super-human strength. We opened up three 2×2 meter excavation units today behind the church, and we already have them down ten centimeters. He works like a demon.
On the other hand, this is bad because Leon is now super-paranoid, and convinced that the world is coming to a harrowing end. He’s nearly catatonic, just sitting by the fireplace, rocking back and forth. Cyrus finally took the jug away from him, and had a few tots himself. So I’m not sure how much use he’s going to be tonight.
It was windy this afternoon, so we came back to the house early. Kim wanted to get back to work on the scans; we haven’t been able to do much with them because of our electricity issues. So we came back. I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until dinner. And just as we were having desert, Erdulfo’s dog lunges at the door, cracking the glass. It scared the crap out of me.
If you remember, this is the nicest dog. Old and completely docile, but she was howling in panic. Cyrus let her in, and she ran into the kitchen. We all followed to see what was up. The dog crawled under a chair in the corner, and Erdulfo was trying to get her out, but she was shaking.
Flora was at the sink washing the dinner dishes, and she started yelling at Erdulfo, but it wasn’t in Spanish, it was in Quechua. Did you know that our caretaker and our cook speak the language of the Inca? I did not, but now I do.
Then Leon started moaning like some kind of banshee, waving his arms around. I’m thinking this was a result of copious mescaline intake, or demonic possession, possibly both. Finally Cyrus slapped him a couple of times and he calmed down.
It was at this point that we heard a whistle from in the dining room. So we trundled back in, and we found Segovia standing by the open door. He was wearing this little robe he walks around in (it’s barely long enough to cover his butt), and he was pointing one if his guns out into the yard.
Cyrus started yelling at him, and then Erdulfo started yelling at him, and we all went over to the window to see what was up. And what was up, Bruce, is that there was a man standing in the yard. He was out back by the wall. You couldn’t see him clearly because of the bushes, but you could tell he was there.
Leon started moaning again, and Erdulfo told everyone to stay in the house. But Segovia walked right out into the yard, holding the gun in front of him, stopping only to light a cigarette.
Erdulfo got right in front of him, but he pushed him aside. And at that point, the man by the wall started to come forward. And I swear, Bruce, it was the scariest moment of my life. There was something wrong with his face, I could see that right away even with just the moonlight.
Erdulfo said something in Quechua, but the man kept coming. He was unsteady, moving like a drunk, but he came right at Segovia. I don’t know how, but suddenly it got very dark. I turned around and saw that the fire had gone out in the fireplace. But when I turned back, the man was right in front of Segovia. If he had eyes at all, I didn’t see them. He opened his mouth to scream, I could see that much, but nothing came out. Then, faster than you would have thought possible, he clawed at Segovia’s face. Then Segovia shot him in the chest.
For at least a minute, nobody moved. Then the man, the thing, came at him again, and Segovia shot him again and again, and then again, until he fell. He would pull the hammer back before taking each shot. I think it was because his guns are kind of old-fashioned. I’m not sure why I noticed that detail.
Cyrus went out to look at the body, but Kim and I weren’t going anywhere, and Leon didn’t move from the couch, didn’t even look up. When Segovia came back inside, you could see he had a big scratch on his face. It was bleeding, so Kim went to help him get it washed. When I looked back at the yard, I saw Erdulfo dragging the body behind the utility shed.
And one more thing, I was cold, shivering cold, unnaturally so. I still am. I don’t know what I’m more shocked by, the fact that I watched a man being killed, or my near certainty that he was already long dead before he walked into our yard. What the hell is going on, Bruce?
The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Eleven
June 17, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex
OK, guys, now things are starting to get strange. I’m still here at the archive, but I’m alone, and the reading room doors are locked from the outside. I tried calling out but there doesn’t seem to be anyone downstairs at the desk either. OK, now the lights just went out. This is starting to worry me. I have about three more hours of daylight. And apparently there is no electricity – I just checked. That means I’m on battery power. I’m going to log off for a bit and see if I can’t make a plan. If you guys are online, don’t go away.
June 17, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson (continued) http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex
Me again. It’s 8:00 at night and I’ve been sitting by myself here for three hours. The doors and windows are locked. I thought about trying to light a fire under the fire alarms to summon help. Well, I did more than think about it. I tried to light a fire for about an hour but I couldn’t figure out how to do it. I don’t have two sticks to rub together, and pencils don’t work. At least I don’t have to worry about freezing to death — summer in southern Spain! But I do need to learn how to start a fire some day. Other than that, I’m out of ideas. I’ve been waving at the window but I’m too far up for anyone to notice, and this is all safety glass, so nobody can hear me either.
About ten minutes ago a light went on downstairs. I haven’t heard anything, so it might be an automatic timer thing. I’m going to go…
June 17, 2011
Seville, Spain
*%^&$#(*& http://www.perdido.blogspace9.ex
<translation module for Latin not installed>
Caveat daemones. Abire. Abire. Abire. Cum Sopay fit, semper eum. Omnes perituri.
June 17, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson (part 3) http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex
Is that you, Leon? Can you not be a dick just for once? I’m having a difficult time here, and I don’t need you fucking around right now. Since you’re awake and at the computer, could you please call the Archive on the emergency number or the Seville police or something? I’m getting thirsty. You can’t have any water in the reading room, and I haven’t had anything to drink in about six hours. I’d really rather not spend the night here.
I just translated your Latin message, Leon – “be wary of the demons. go away, go away. When [Sopay] comes, he comes always. All will perish.”
Yeah, that’s a real hoot! As if things haven’t been freakish enough around here.
I’m going to log off now to save battery power. Can you make those calls so I can get the hell out of here?
Also, what is a Sopay?
June 17, 2011
Seville, Spain
*%^&$#(*& http://www.perdido.blogspace9.ex
<translation module for Latin not installed>
Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc.
Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc.
Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc.
Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc. Veniet vobis nunc.
June 17, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson (part 4) http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex
Leon, I’m actually really hoping that this is just you being a dick. I’ve got to tell you – at this point I’m getting scared. It’s now 10:00 at night, it’s dark, and even a little cold. And I haven’t heard anything from anyone, except of course for the second creepy Latin post. Veniet vobis nunc – ‘He’ll come for you now.’ That’s cute. That’s really what I need.
Guys, there’s someone in the hall. I just tried calling out but there’s no answer. I can see him through the door. This is really starting to freak me out. OK, if you’re there, Leon, or whoever might be reading this, can you please call the Seville police and have them get in here? I tried contacting them by e-mail but I’m getting nothing back, and I don’t have my headphones with me to Skype. I’m going to walk over to the door. I’m switching to voice activation mode, and I have the Spanish-to-English translation module on, so here it goes. I’m heading over to the door.
voice activation mode: enabled
indiv 1: Who’s there? Who’s out there, please? I can see you through the glass. Can you help me get out of here, please?
<background noise excessive>
indiv 1: Why are you moving like that? Laney, guys, if you’re online, there’s someone just outside the door and he is rocking back and forth and gesturing slowly with his hands. But he’s back in the shadows, so I can’t see what he’s doing.
indiv 1: Can you call the guards please? Can you call the police, sir? Are you a curator here?
<background noise excessive>
indiv 1: No, don’t go away. Where are you going? Please come back. Guys, I think a door just opened downstairs. There’s someone coming.
<background noise excessive>
indiv 1: < shouting> In here! OK, it’s the police. They’re unlocking the door.
<background noise excessive>
indiv 2: …lot of much trouble. Illegal to hide in archives after hours. Result in revocation of licensing and legal action, punishable…”
<interpretation unclear, please adjust volume setting>
indiv 1: …wasn’t hiding. I was working and then suddenly I looked around and nobody was here. Then I was talking to that man out in the hall but he left.
indiv 2: …is no man in the hall. Archive has been closed for hours.
indiv 1: There was a man standing outside the door in the shadows. He kept gesturing to me but I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me.
<cell phone ringing>
indiv 2: He is alone…yes. Yes. I will bring him.
indiv 1: Bring me where? Look, I just want to go home and drink some water. What are you doing? Ow, ow! Handcuffs, are you serious? Can I see your badge, please? Wait, are you even real police? Who are you? Let me remind you that I am a United States citizen, and I have certain rights under…
<crash>
<background noise excessive>
voice activation mode: disabled
battery low; preparing to hibernate
The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Ten
June 17, 2011
Magdalena de Paz, Peru
Sanderson http://www.CyrusSanderson.blogspace9.ex
Listen to me very carefully, young Bruce. I think you are engaging in something unwise, and it needs to stop. We have a brand new ultraviolet scanner here that was delivered this morning. It’s the size of a refrigerator, and we have no idea who sent it, but we can now see a whole lot more of what’s written on the documents we’ve excavated.
Lane and Leon are out at the pyramid. They’ll be back for lunch any moment now, so I’ll be brief. Blunt too. Shut this thing down, Bruce. I don’t want any more of our material flowing out into cyberspace. You never know who might be paying attention.
This is raw archaeological data we are developing, and it is of great value. I know I signed off on this blog thing, but this is still my project, and I want my information pipeline capped.
Here’s why: information has been/will be/should be controlled. It’s not for every-day consumption. Do you think the Inca emperors cared about sharing knowledge with the masses when they devised their quipus, the most complex record-keeping system ever devised by humans? Do you think the Maya lords let any old farmer peruse their tax roles? What do you think Pharaoh Ramses II was thinking when he had his scribes adorn Karnak with more Byzantine words than any king had yet written in stone?
These men were living gods, and they understood one important aspect of power: control your information. Fail to do that, and you never know who is going to start poking around your business. And once you start worrying about that, you’ll do little else. You’ll worry all the time. You’ll fail to pay attention to details, and the Huns will come. Or the Assyrians, or the Romans, or the Spanish. But the point is, someone will come.
So can we please shut down this internet experiment before we let someone in that we’d rather not let in? It’s bad enough we now have a 19th-century Spanish gunfighter sitting out by the pool with his spurs and a mai tai.
June 17, 2011
Magdalena de Paz, Peru
Cavalcante http://www.diggirl.blogspace9.ex
Say what you need to, Cyrus, but as you know, grants are not as lucrative as they once were. And the good folks at Blogspace9 are funding our research. Can you pass that yellow hot sauce, please? You hanging over me watching me type is not going to change what I type.
The world is changing, Cyrus. The axis of information has shifted dramatically since you were in graduate school back in the Paleolithic. Information is still power, but that power now comes from sharing rather than hoarding. That’s something the Inca never realized. That’s something the Egyptians never suspected. That’s something the Maya never dreamed.
The kings of old were paranoid sociopaths, more concerned with their own fragile thrones than with the larger more glorious pictures that were everywhere before them. The professors of old were no different. But those kings are long gone, Cyrus. And those old professors are on their way out, soon to be replaced by a vast army of underpaid, uninsured, unloved adjunct professors who will, in short time, be chewed up by academia and become alcoholics.
But I digress. You want to wait, Cyrus? You want to process your data, and then sit back and write an article for Latin American Antiquity, circulation 1,600? Way to illuminate the past! Light your tiny candle, big guy! As of this morning, our hit counter is at 702,429. Almost three quarters of a million people are going to read the words I am typing right now. I’m not even thirty years old, and I have more people paying attention to me than all the Inca emperors combined ever did. Now pass me the damn yellow hot sauce.
Thank you.
In any case, back when National Geographic was funding us, we had the same kind of agreement – anything interesting turns up, they take pictures and pop them onto the cover of the magazine. The only thing different now is that everything is happening faster. Also, it’s ten times the money. So, if you want to cancel our agreement, then go get us some grants. On the other hand, you own three houses, Cyrus. Sell two and pay us what we’re worth.
Bruce: I’m going to send you the scans that Kim is pulling off this infrared light box or whatever it is. We’re still trying to figure out where it came from, but you’re not going to believe how much of our texts is legible now.
Leon is here and he wants to write something. I think he wants to tell you about his new man crush. I can’t yet tell who is more taken by our new bodyguard Mr. Segovia – Leon or Kim.
Before I go, Kim wants you to look for a name – Quiroga Vela. It looks like Father Sebastiano was expecting a visit from him, and it doesn’t look like he was much looking forward to it.
June 17, 2011
Magdalena de Paz, Peru
Samples http://www.greatbigLeon.blogspace9.ex
Hey, Bruce, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that smoking a cigarette by the pool wearing nothing but horse-riding boots and a Speedo isn’t cool. And ordinarily I would agree with you, but that’s what my new best friend is rocking right now, and he’s the coolest cat I’ve ever seen.
He’s only been here a day and a half, but I’m already tight with Segovia. He’s like the Starsky to my Hutch, the Hall to my Oates. I think Kim is in love with him, and you know what, I don’t blame her.
Osvaldo Segovia is a former police officer from Madrid. He’s also a champion marksman and sword fighter. You can Google him if you don’t believe me. I’d Google him myself except our friendship is such that our trust is complete. He’s fifty years old, speaks nine languages, and weighs about thirty-nine pounds by the looks of him. But he’s a tough little guy, solid, like a puma.
I’m not sure exactly what he’s doing here. He says he’s protecting us, and I expect he means from the zombies or the convicts or whoever the hell it is prowling around at night. But so far, he hasn’t done much except drink brandy, sit by the pool, and look cool.
He says he’s going outside tonight. He’s planning to spend the night on top of the pyramid, and I’m going with him. At least I want to, but when I asked, he just ignored me.
Check this out – Kim just walked up to the edge of the pool, and right this minute, she just took her top off in front of him. And he hasn’t moved a muscle. Erdulfo is standing out there too, and he just dropped his guavas. I have to go.
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