Diego & Germán - 2. Chapter II: Work, work, work

Most of my stuff at the camp was military grade. It had been given to me as a kind of stress test, you know, me being a klutz and breaking any equipment as soon as I got my hands on it. I swear machines just hate me... well, except Lisa; she just thinks I'm funny. Ha, ha. So in revenge, I let her take care of all that stuff. Anyway, the camp was self sufficient and energy efficient; solar energy, absorbed by the tent's walls, was used for almost everything. I tried hard not to use the ships core to get more power; that would allow me to illuminate the woods to be seen from outer space, but it wouldn’t have been very respectful of my environment, would it? Water came from the stream below, not from the material processor. True, warm water was not as warm as it could have been, and sometimes, after a while, it ran out. But I was never 100% sure it wasn't just Lisa being a bitch and telling me to get the fuck out of the shower. So I like my showers long, sue me.

Mornings were easy. After my run, I went into the shower and told Lisa to make me some breakfast.

* Coffee and pancakes would be great. Thank you. *

I knew she would make them healthy and nutritious and delicious, with lots of fruit and ice cream and chocolate and whatnot, so I really didn't worry about “eating healthy”. We had agreed long time ago that she also was in charge of my health, so let her work for her money.

I got naked into the warm enough stream of water and let it wash my sweat away, without a care in the world.

After the shower I looked in the mirror and decided not to shave. There was no one here to care. Mysterious stalker could keep his opinion to himself. I was alone, so I flexed a little to show off my muscles. No harm done, no one has to know. Hmmm, exercising’s doing its thing, but I certainly ain't gonna win a beauty contest.

* Well, I'll just have to have a nose job, and that's it... and maybe a new face... and the stomach... where the fuck is my six pack? And some ass would be nice too... And no, Lisa, I don't want to hear it. *

# I did not say anything! #

* No, but you were thinking it. *

Weighted tai-chi and running had been improving my body, and I was lean with nice, clean, cut muscles, what you'd call “a runners build”, but my genes were not the muscly kind.

On the other hand, people often said my face had character, you know, like when they don't find anything nice to say about your looks. My longish, thin face was now looking back from the mirror. I think my eyes are nice: dark green inside and brown outside, big and expressive, but that's just me. I was happy here, and my face showed it, and that was enough. Anyway, I'd have to go through genetic therapy to improve my looks, as most of my school friends had done, and now they all looked alike. And really, my narcissism was not big enough to win over my laziness. Genetic therapy was a big pain in the ass.

Look at that.

I was getting a semi stiff just from looking at myself naked in the mirror.

* What four months in the wildness will do to a man. I even get horny looking at my scrawny self. My standards are getting mighty low. *

# Oh, shut up with the pity party already. You would not recognize a good looking man if he was biting you in the ass. You are a catch and one of the best looking guys I know. #

* Now you are just sounding like my grandma. And by the way, are you seeing other men behind my back? *

# I don't kiss and tell. #

I tried to change my thoughts into something more productive while I was having breakfast.

* I'll have to refill the material processor. Looks like it's getting low on carbon compounds. – Oh, wow, the pancakes are excellent! Congratulations Lisa, you have outdone yourself again. – The excavation is going as planned. No surprises there. *

Explorers and drones had been scouting and probing some more on the surface, mapping the outlines of the old city I was excavating. It was an enormous extension of over seven square kilometers, with buildings and structures extending as much as twenty five kilometers into the outskirts. I was concentrating on what seemed to have been the economical and political center, on the riverbank, hoping that the findings would be more significant there, even though the destruction also seemed more thorough. Who knows what had happened to the big buildings that had populated the center: enormous lumps with foundations of over five hundred square meters. What did they look like? Maybe in time I'd be able to reconstruct their outward appearance and explain the destruction, but for the moment all I had were guesses: war, famine, decadence?

* Today I'll go to the site. Keep your sensors open. Our stalker could come out at any moment. *

# Yes, Sir! #

I decided to take the rover. Some bullet and rayproof aceplast between me and whoever was out there was a good idea. Not that I had to go to the excavation physically at all. I had critters doing the heavy lifting for me, and I could log on to them and see what was happening live, but being there was what archaeologists were supposed to do. You had to feel things for yourself. There was information that no remote link could convey. So I called Ruffles into the rover and we drove off down the gentlest slope of the valley towards the big river.

The rover was working really well. Not that a military vehicle that floats one foot above the ground can have all that many problems, but this is me we are talking about. Also, it was working on just solar energy, and without a traffic controller, so you never know. It's not always my fault.

Today, I also wanted to check some interesting findings at the site. I was fascinated by the incredible amount of colorful decorated plastic these people used. They printed any and everything on plastic and cellulose, and then stuck it on the strangest containers. The cellulose prints had not really survived; it was only through chemical analysis I was able to reconstruct their use. The plastic ones greeted me with gaudy colors, strange black symbols, and drawings of every possible thing on the planet: mountains, rivers, people, vehicles, anything under the sky. A few were really beautiful, like elegant glass bottles, or metal trays. I had already a pretty nice collection that would make an excellent exhibition back home.

When I arrived at the site, there was a small collection of objects waiting for me. A long plastic cylinder with a metallic point on one side. The remains of what looked like medical or torture instruments. A red and white metallic container, at the moment squashed completely flat. It turned out to be a cylinder, I discovered after some work, made of thin walled aluminum, decorated with white symbols on a blue background.

I was beginning to suspect the symbols, repeated over and over on many surfaces, were some kind of information about the container, the contents or the owner. Analysis showed that many containers had been filled with organic matter, possibly food. So maybe the symbols explained how to open the containers, or the recipes used to prepare the food in them. My hope was that, with enough of them, Lisa would be able to make some sense out of it.

* Maybe a message to the gods? “Oh, you great cook in the sky, bless us all with your spice”? “Eat this and perish”? Yeah, maybe some kind of warning about the food. That would mean they had no ability to communicate with the container, or with a central data bank, to ask what was in there. Somehow you'd need to know what was inside before opening it. And why transport food at all? Why not cook it on site? That would mean there was a pretty complex system of people cooking, putting it in containers, marking it and transporting it. Then sold? Bought? Pretty complex society we are talking about, with specialized labor. And the difficult knowledge of this type of relationships would have to be very extensive in such a society. It would be not enough that the local big-head-vodoo-king knew about it. A city of this size would need a lot of people with specialized knowledge, making this civilization very vulnerable to disruption. -- I could write a paper about that. *

# Good luck with that. #

* I know they won't publish it in the monthly uni holo, but maybe in the annual review no one reads… *

# Keep on dreaming. #

I had heard it often enough. “Mr. Ludi, I understand you are fascinated with old stuff, but at this University, we have the social responsibility of advancing our civilization. Knowing about what technology some bush hunters used to bring down their supper is not going to give us any advantage over other trade colonies. Please, try to understand my position. We cannot squander our meager resources like that.” Yeah, as if an article in the uni holo would ruin them. Any intellectual activity that could not readily be translated into money was not something that was well received.

Don't think about that! You’ve made your dream of excavating on Earth come true! No dean expecting you to be “productive”, no students expecting to be taught, no colleagues looking at you as if you were a strange bug.

No one had any interest in Earth. There were no raw materials, no population to speak of. I didn't even need a permit to excavate. An empty world full of too much nature. Only the crazies from Shboa and Nama stayed on the planet, but they kept to themselves, confined to their monasteries, isolated from everyone. That's what happens with religious fundamentalists: they wither on the vine.

Work made me forget the meeting that morning and I enjoyed my findings, classifying and documenting. Everything worked as planned and I hoped the opening of the chamber I had found a couple of days before, would bring some excitement and new discoveries. Until the moles reached it, I'd be happy to work with whatever was found on the surface.

Evening came, and Ruffles and I drove back to the camp without incident. I was hungry as hell, because I’d forgotten to take lunch with me to the site once again.

* Lisa, please prepare a bean stew for dinner, like my grandma used to. I am ravenous. *

# Yes, honey. Do you want a cool beer too? And the ball game on the holo? #

* Is that a trick question? *

# If I were you, I would only eat the stew I prepared myself. #

* But Lisa, I want stew for dinner! I want it! *

# No. You are not my six year old child either. And I am not your maidservant. You do your stew yourself. #

* Even my daemon revolts against me. What kind of slave driver am I if no one listens to what I say? *

# The good kind. #

In the end, when I arrived at the camp, Lisa had already prepared a stew, just like my grandma used to. With my favorite beer, at the right temperature.

The second chapter is kind of a bonus; I will not be able to maintain this rhythm of one chapter a week. I guess it will be about one chapter every two weeks, but I can't promise anything. Sorry!
So, I hope you liked this bit of world building, and that you got to know Diego and Lisa a little better. If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to leave a message.
Carlos y Jaro, ¡sois los mejores!