Page 106 of False Flag

“I asked him that exact question, and he said, ‘It’s important to know where treasure hunters are focusing their energy, so we have the heads-up to protect the resource.’ Which is damn good advice, really.”

“So you’re saying you’re here to block me.”

“Not at all. I’m here to make sure the resource is protected. Protection means lots of things, including making sure the digging is done properly. Data recovery instead of data destruction. But that’s not why I’m telling you this story.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“Because instead of going to see the Sonics, my friend decided to cut to the chase and asked what the guy’s research questions were, what information did he believe excavating the shipwreck could provide.”

She paused a beat before continuing. “‘That’s easy!’ the treasure hunter said. ‘I want to know if it’s got gold in it!’”

When she didn’t continue, Gerard prodded. “Why is that a problem?”

“That’s not a research question. It doesn’t answer anything. It’s just a person who wants to profit from an historic tragedy. A research design is developed with the intention of answering research questions. A project is without scientific value if nothing can be learned from the fieldwork, and the value of an artifact is always in the information it provides, not the object itself.

“You don’t have a research design because you aren’t asking scientific questions. You just want gold because gold has value, whether it’s historic or not. In this instance, the gold is clicks, monetization of disinformation. You’ve put forth a completely unsupported thesis—there was an ancient agricultural civilization here ten thousand years ago—and to get your gold clicks, you add on the claim that archaeologists know about it and are covering it up.”

“That’s because they are.”

“That’s not a thesis, hypothesis, or research question. It’s clickbait.”

“Big Archaeology is keeping secrets. That’s why they—you—refuse to examine the research.”

She shook her head. “I’m right here, engaging with you.”

“I’m paying you.”

“So I should work for you for free?” She leaned forward. “You also fail to note it’s archaeologists who are doing the research, not you or your pseudoscientist buddies. You rely on archaeological research to support your thesis, then complain when there are no findings to support you. Because it doesn’t exist.”

“How much of the ocean has been studied? Mapped?”

“Underwater research is costly and dangerous. But still, archaeologists have done a fair amount of work in areas where it’s possible.”

“You’re looking for shipwrecks, not ancient civilizations.”

“We look for both. And if your ancient civilization had individuals who survived an apocalyptic—even continent-destroying—event and settled in what is now British Columbia ten thousand years ago, they would have needed boats to get here. You should be looking for shipwrecks. But the oldest documented shipwrecks are far younger than ten thousand years.”

“Because archaeologists aren’t looking in the right places.”

“Are we covering up a past we’ve already documented, or not looking in the right place? Choose your argument.”

“You aren’t looking because you know what you’ll find will prove me right, and archaeologists hate being wrong.”

“You believe archaeologists are in a vast conspiracy to cover up ancient history just because we don’t want to admit we don’t know everything? The whole point of archaeological research is to learn more about human history and what shaped human culture since before the dawn of civilization. We love learning new things, extending timelines, discovering that a technology goes back further than we initially believed.

“Archaeologists would be ecstatic to find evidence of agriculture in or immediately after the Younger Dryas period. But we haven’t found it for a number of reasons, and it’s not because humans didn’t have the brains for it. It’s because the climate couldn’t support it. Growing a crop—enough to sustain a community—during the Younger Dryas is extremely unlikely.”

“But not impossible.”

“I won’t say impossible any more than I would give a definitive statement about one religion over another or even deny religion altogether. I hold my personal beliefs, but I don’t know. No one knows. But I will say knowing what we do about climate and technology ten to twelve thousand years ago, we’re looking at a less than one percent chance that humans had control over a food supply. They were fisher-hunter-gatherers because that was the most consistent way to survive.”

“But what if there was a type of food we don’t know about? Something that could grow in the harsh conditions of the time?”

“A magic potato? A grain that’s been wiped out? We’d find evidence of it in soil samples. If you’d ever worked on an archaeological dig, you’d know that we collect samples constantly. Some for future analysis—when we have better technology—and flora and fauna are the first things we look for in the soil. Pollen analysis is a key component of any site report.”

Gerard’s eyes changed. He thought he had her. He would move in for the kill now. She kept her body relaxed, her expression almost bored—better to show boredom than irritation and hostility, which was what he really triggered in her.

“But you see, my dear.” He paused, eyes sparking as he delivered the endearment. His gaze flicked to her breasts. She had little doubt he’d edit the video to include a close-up. Her cleavage would make it easier for viewers to question her intelligence. “That’s where my most important research questions—and accusations against Big Archaeology—stem from. Paleoethnobotanists are colluding with archaeologists to cover up the truth.”