“In archaeology, this is how proof happens. Layer by layer. Artifact by artifact. We build evidence over time.”
“We don’t have unlimited time.”Idon’t have unlimited time. This project is not only costing a ton of money; it’s taking me away from my businesses. While I have proxies to handle things back home, my mere absence is a financial gamble.
“We have six months,” Georgia says. “That’s plenty if you’d stop hovering and let me work.”
There’s that edge again. The one that appears whenever I question her methods. “I’m not hovering. I’m monitoring progress. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” She stands, brushing dust from her knees. “Because you’ve checked on us twelve times today. It’s barely noon.”
Has it been twelve? I haven’t been counting. And why should I? But surely she’s exaggerating. “I have a vested interest in?—”
“Mama!” Ella’s voice cuts through our conversation. “Mama, Mama!”
Georgia’s attention immediately shifts. “Just a second, Ella!”
“Mama! Up!”
“I’m working right now, sweetheart. Play with your blocks.”
“No! Mama up!”
The whining continues, and I can see the tension in Georgia’s shoulders as she tries to focus on both the excavation and her increasingly insistent daughter.
“Maybe you should get her,” I say. “She’s been in that crate all morning.”
Georgia gives me a disgusted look. “It’s a playpen.”
“Oh. Pen. Excuse me. Is that any better?”
She sets down her brush with more force than necessary. “Excuse me.”
She walks to the playpen, and I hear her talking to Ella in that patient but strained voice she uses when the toddler is being difficult. After a minute, Ella settles with a juice box and some crackers, and Georgia returns.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. It’s a distraction. But what else can I say?
The day drags on. The heat becomes oppressive, even in the shade. Work slows to a crawl as everyone takes frequent water breaks. Ella needs lunch, then a nap, which means Georgia disappears to the tent for half an hour to get her settled.
That’s another half an hour of lost work time.
When Georgia returns, I notice the bags under her eyes. “Okay, where were we?” she asks.
“Section C-four,” Omar says, pointing to the grid. “We found something interesting while you were gone.”
I perk up at that. Something interesting. Finally.
We gather around as Omar carefully brushes away sand from what looks like more pottery fragments. But these are different. They’re thicker pieces, with some color on them.
“This is glazed,” Yasmin says, leaning in for a closer look. “See the blue? That’s cobalt. Expensive. Indicative of something significant.”
Georgia kneels beside them, and I can see her excitement building. This is the woman from the lecture video Ollie showed me. Her eyes are bright, and she’s completely absorbed in the find. I wonder if she has any idea that she’s the most beautiful in moments like this.
“Careful,” she murmurs as Omar works. “There might be more underneath.”
Slowly, painstakingly, he uncovers more fragments. A curve becomes visible. A rim. What might be a handle.
“It’s a vessel,” Georgia breathes. “A ceremonial vase, maybe. The decoration suggests…” She traces a pattern in the air above the fragments, not quite touching. “Omar, get the camera. We need to document this exactly as it is before we extract.”
