(What archaeology is really like sometimes…)
Remnants of 80’s still centre of mind after finding a cassette tape in locus 2 last week. Hope remains for locus 3 marks a new beginning. The authorities (Prof. M.Hoff) remains asleep or at least is sitting in the shade in conference with local officials aka Prof. Can.
The workers continue…
Locus remains unfruitful. Hope has turned to longing. The authorities remain uninterested.
One tesserae found – a new hope begins. But all may be lost as we resort to creative writing and silly drawing in the dirt games.
Hopes are still running low. They diminish with the trench.
The authorities appear more uninterested. Mutiny may result.
As time passes, the heat causes hallucinations as stones are mistaken for coins and more stones. Sheridan can no longer create complete sentences.
Locus 4 uncovers one large rock, hope now gone.
Losing will to live. I cannot brain. I don’t know the vocabulary to my own language. Dirt has now replaced our blood, flowing throughout veins and clogging our arteries. Soon the will to live will be replaced by death. All we know are stones.
The occasional visit from a neighbouring trench from a neighbouring trench wrench is now all the communication we have with the outside world.
The authorities has attempted to give us false hope by encouraging more digging and promising ice cream. But ice cream has become a vague mirage in our perpetual desert of hopelessness.
We have attempted to use the force to make the buckets move the dirt by thought alone. It has not worked. Gravity has worked against us. Too weak.
The gods have shown mercy, a coin of the non-stone variety has appeared in locus 5 majestically. Our spirits have lifted but we know it will not last long.
The digging continues…