by Nick Thacker
“The plateau flooded sometime around 10,000 years ago, for some reason,” Mrs. E said. “Some scientists believe it was due to the end of the last ice age. Whatever the reason, the oceans rose about 400 feet, completely altering the geography of the entire planet.
The plateau on the napkin is approximated,” Mrs. E continued, “but my husband said the company we have been working with has been able to recreate a very accurate computer model of the larger landmass. It takes into account what we know about the Mediterranean and Aegean region during that time, as well as the volcanic activity that would have led to the creation of this landmass.
“And just before we landed, the lab sent over some even better information: if you translate Plato’s writing into modern-day measurements, everything lines up.”
Reggie frowned. “Wait, really? He really was accurate?”
“It seems so,” Mrs. E said. “Look.”
She poked around on her phone once again, referencing some note she’d taken earlier, and started writing numbers next to each section of the napkin map.
“Plato writes that the ‘oblong shape in the south, extending in one direction’ is about ‘three-thousand stadia wide,’ which, when translated to modern-day measurements, is about 555 kilometers across.”
She drew an arrow and line segment across the center of the island and wrote the numbers in just below the line.
“Then he writes, ‘but across the center of the island it was two-thousand stadia,’ or about 370 kilometers. So there was a smaller valley south of the larger, 555 kilometer-long valley. We believe that was right here.”
Mrs. E drew another arrow and line segment across an area just south of the main valley, across one of the modern-day islands of the Cyclades.
“Fifty stadia, or about nine kilometers from the coast of this landmass, was a mountain that was low on all sides…’ so there was an entirely different — yet much smaller — island, situated just off the coast of the larger landmass of Atlantis. Plato says this smaller island was actually two tiny islands, that one was ‘all round about, and that the central island itself was five stades in diameter,’ or just under one kilometer in diameter. So there was an island within an island.”
She circled the island of Santorini on the napkin map.
“It matches up perfectly,” Reggie said.
Julie couldn’t help but feel excited. She couldn’t argue with Mrs. E’s assessment, and seeing it unfold in front of her, even just on a napkin, was nothing short of remarkable.
“Later, Plato says that there were two springs, one cold and one hot, that provided water to the island.”
“Wait a minute,” Ben said. “They had hot water? So they had showers?”
Mrs. E smiled. “Perhaps. But yes, Plato says they did indeed have ‘two springs,’ so we assume he’s referring to these two geologic features.”
She circled the island of Santorini, which was clearly the collapsed cone of a volcano, and the smaller island inside of it, also now an extinct volcano. “These could have been the sources of the cold freshwater aquifers — the inactive volcano situated southeast of the main island with loads of cool water under pressure stuck inside — and the hot — the active volcano near it.”
“Mrs. E,” Reggie said, his adulation clear in his voice, “this is amazing. You — you figured this out?”
“No,” she replied quickly. “The company and their artificial intelligence program, as well as their tireless staff, provided most of the computing power, and Julie even helped program some of the early search queries. And there are quite a few blog posts and articles written by amateur historians that helped point us in the right direction.”
Mrs. E made a dismissive motion with her hand. “My husband and I merely invested in the right companies — and the right people.”
“Either way,” Ben said. “Reggie’s right. This is phenomenal. I can’t — there’s no way I can argue with it.”
Mrs. beamed, then tried to hide it. “Well, it gets even better,” she said. “Plato goes on. He gives us a bottom-line examination of the repercussions of this little island’s growing ego: ‘the consequence is, that in comparison of what then was, there are remaining in small islets only the bones of the wasted body, as they may be called, all the richer and softer parts of the soil having fallen away, and the mere skeleton of the country being left.’”
“The islands that still exist today,” Julie said. “That’s what he’s talking about. The ‘bones of the wasted body’ of the original island are all that exist. Now it’s just the smaller, disconnected islands.”
“Right,” Mrs. E said. “And Santorini is one of those islands, and it’s one of the only ones that was almost completely unaffected by the flooding that destroyed the larger island. From what we gather, Plato is describing — literally — this island and the surrounding area to the north of it over the Cyclades Plateau, as it existed 11,000 years ago. At that time, the island of Atlantis was a very literal, very evident reality to the ancient Greeks.”
“Fascinating,” Julie said. “So where does that lead us? It sounds like this island, Santorini, is only one of many possible locations to search.”
Sarah’s face fell. “That’s true,” she said, her voice low and soft. “That’s the unfortunate truth. There’s not much left of any of the other small islands to search — at least nothing obvious. I know that from my father’s studies and some of my own. Santorini is the most populated, up-to-date island, so it makes sense to start here, but I’m not sure what we’ll be able to find, and I’m not sure where we’re supposed to go next.”
Julie sensed Sarah was upset about something besides just the potential lack of leads toward finding Atlantis. She reached out and placed her hand on Sarah’s. “We’ll find him, Sarah,” Julie said. “I promise you that.”
“Thank you,” Sarah whispered.
No one else spoke for a moment. Mrs. E finally broke the silence. “Well, you youngsters can keep partying, but my body doesn’t care if it is only six o’clock here. It feels like the middle of the night, and I could use some shut-eye.
“Besides,” she continued, “I need to make sure everything is ready for our excursion tomorrow.”
“Excursion?” Reggie asked.
Mrs. E nodded. “We are chartering a boat — a small yacht used for fishing trips. The owner is going to tour us around the interior of the island. He told my husband that he would be ready as soon as we landed on the island, but I knew we would be tired and it would be getting dark soon. I thought we could start by getting an idea of the geography of the place, to see if it lines up with our theory. From there we can determine what our next steps are. But we will need daylight, so tomorrow morning it is. And we will likely need a professional opinion on what we are looking at. For that, I am hoping Dr. Lindgren will help us out.”
Sarah nodded. “Of course. Anything that helps.”
Around the table, Julie saw the question in everyone else’s eyes. She had no doubt the people she was with, the friends she’d committed to, were the best in the world for the task at hand. Each of them had their specialties and strengths, as well as flaws, but they had proven that grit and sheer determination, as well as teamwork, were far better assets to problem-solving than just about anything else.
They would find her father, that was not the question.
No, the question she was wrestling with — the one she knew Sarah was wrestling with as well — was far more unsettling:
Will we find him in time?
39
Sarah
SARAH AND REGGIE SAT ACROSS from one another, facing each other at the large booth. It was awkward, and it wasn’t just because of the massive table, making her feel small.
It was awkward because they were the only two people at the table. The rest of the group had disbanded, citing exhaustion after a nearly two-day travel itinerary. Although they had each gotten a bit of shuteye on the plane, the constant stops and typical impossibility of getting
restful sleep on a flight had fatigued them all.
She figured Ben and Julie would want some alone time, and she guessed that Mrs. E probably had to check in with her reclusive husband and give him an update on their safe arrival and progress in addition to working through the itinerary for tomorrow. Still, she couldn’t help but think that everyone had purposefully left them alone in the hotel bar.
“So…” Reggie began. “How — how are you?”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs, deeply in and then out again. Tell him the truth?
“You mean, ‘how are you after I ditched you and never called?’”
Okay, Sarah, that was a bit harsh. How about the actual truth next time?
To his credit, Reggie didn’t appear to be angry. He smiled, a pained grin spreading across the lower half of his face. “I called a few times, Sarah.”
That was true. But she hadn’t returned those calls, and besides a few emails here and there, their communication had been mostly through the other members of Reggie’s crew.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know. It’s just…”
“I know.”
Reggie took a long sip of his whiskey and waved the waiter over for another. He waited the full six minutes it took for the whiskey to arrive before he spoke again.
“Listen, Sarah,” he began. “I like you. Hell, it may even be more than that. I think you know that, but I want you to know that hasn’t changed.”
“Then why —”
“Because I had to, Sarah. I can’t really explain it right now — not very well, at least, but I had to cut it off. Between work and training, and the long distance, it was just…”
“Too hard?” Sarah asked.
He didn’t answer.
She knew it was too hard, she had admitted that to him before he’d even brought it up. It was half her fault — maybe even more than half. But she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, no matter how hard she tried. In her mind, apologizing to him would be admitting defeat.
And something in there is trying to make this work, she realized.
She couldn’t admit defeat because she didn’t truly want it to be over.
“Reggie,” she said. “I know it was hard. It will always be hard. I’m no stay-at-home housewife, and God knows you’re no 9-to-5 office worker who’ll be home just in time for dinner every night.”
Reggie smiled again, and this time the smile reached his eyes. “You don’t seriously think of us like that, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said, suddenly feeling herself going on the defensive. “It’s just —”
“We’re not that couple, Sarah,” he said. “We were never going to be. What I’m asking is, do you think that’s why it didn’t work?”
Good question.
She shrugged.
“I can tell you why I didn’t want to try to make it work, Sarah. I didn’t want it to work.”
“You… what?”
“I didn’t want to. It would have been the hardest thing either of us have ever done. Neither of us is going to give up our lives for anything, and that includes each other.”
“Reggie, that’s not —”
“It is true, Sarah. It’s harsh, but it’s true. You’re just as stubborn as I am, and you’re a hell of a lot smarter than I am, so I know it would be stupid for you to give up your career for someone else.”
She wanted to interject, but she also was interested to hear where he was going with his monologue. She shifted a bit in the soft seat, moving the hand she had been sitting on to the tabletop and uncrossing her legs, then crossing them again the other way. She naturally felt her body closing in on itself, like she was a clam in a shell, slowly feeling the pressure welling up around her.
“Say we tried to make it work,” Reggie continued. “What does that even look like? We see each other every few months?”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. “More like once a year.”
“Right — so once a year? That’s ridiculous. And then what? We spend the weekend or week we have together, once a year, catching up? Sarah, that’s not a life. That’s stasis.”
“Maybe stasis is better than nothing.”
“Maybe it is,” Reggie said.
She knew they were both on the same page. It’s not better. Staying the same is no way to live.
She took another long, deep breath. “What are we talking about right now, Reggie?”
It was his turn to shrug. “I don’t know, honestly. I guess I just want you to know I’m sorry. If it were any different…”
“If it were different you and I wouldn’t have ever met.”
“Maybe not. But still, this isn’t about how I feel about you. It’s about who we are, and I just don’t think we can be compatible.”
“I agree. But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t work in the meantime.”
Reggie grinned. “I’m all for a little fun every now and then, Sarah, but you’re worth more than that. You and I both know that wouldn’t end well.”
She looked down into the top of her drink. Where are the others? She felt like she could use a backup right about now. She grabbed her cellphone from her pocket and placed it face-up on the table, looking at the blank screen as if it were about to conjure some sort of remedy for the awkward moment.
“Let’s talk about it later,” Reggie said, his voice dropping again to scarcely above a whisper. “We can chat about something else for now.”
There were a few other patrons in the bar, chatting quietly, and the piped-in music was faint, but she could still barely hear him.
She nodded. “My father, then?”
“Sure, if that’s what you’d like to talk about,” he said.
Before they could start in on that conversation, Sarah’s phone buzzed on the table, then dinged. She looked down at the lockscreen, where the text message that had just come in was displayed.
It was from Alexander. Can you talk?
She swiped across the text to remove it from the screen, but she noticed Reggie had already seen it.
“Who’s that?” Reggie asked.
She mumbled a response, but focused on the reply. Not now, she wrote.
She looked up at her ex-boyfriend. “Sorry — that was, uh, a student. One of my field assistants.”
Reggie lifted an eyebrow. “Alexander?”
“You read my phone?”
“It was right there. I wasn’t trying to snoop.”
“He’s my assistant.”
“Yeah,” Reggie said. “I saw that in the picture.”
Sarah looked at Reggie’s face, reading it, just as another text message came in. She struggled, trying not to look down, but she couldn’t help it.
Understood. Haplogroup X, ever heard of it?
She shook her head slightly, then clicked the screen off.
“Just an assistant?” Reggie asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She inhaled a deep breath. When they had been dating, she’d mentioned to Reggie that one of her students seemed to ‘have a thing’ for her, but she had made it clear to him that she wasn’t at all interested. Neither of them were the jealous type anyway, but she knew that long-distance, sporadic relationships were difficult at best.
She also knew that Reggie had seen a picture of Sarah and her team — she’d sent him a few when her research project had kicked off. Alex’s tall, dark body and curling black hair were quite prominent in one of the pictures, and he’d even had his arm around her shoulder in one of them.
Sarah saw the door to the saloon-like hotel bar swing open and a man step in. His eyes were beady, tiny little peas that were already scanning the area. He was dressed semi-formally, wearing a suit coat over slacks and a deep-hued shirt, as if he’d carefully chosen his wardrobe earlier that day, but then had gently shed a few layers of formality when afternoon rolled around. He walked farther into the room, putting on a smile and nodding at the bartender.
&nbs
p; A second man followed the first. This one was larger, taller and thick, and wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt buttoned to his neck that covered just about all of his upper body. They looked like brothers, both having a slight dimple on their left cheek. They even walked the same, their strides short and steady, not in a hurry but not lazy either.
She watched them enter while Reggie fiddled with his own phone, then she turned back to her ex-boyfriend. “It doesn’t mean anything, Reggie. He’s — there’s nothing between us.”
He nodded. “It’s fine. I know,” he said. “It’s just — hard.”
She returned the nod, then decided to change the subject. “Thanks for talking them into it,” she said.
Reggie smiled and looked up at her. “Sarah — please,” he said. “Even if they weren’t able to come, they would have sent some sort of support. And they couldn’t stop me from coming.”
She laughed. “Well, I’m hoping this is all just a big misunderstanding, and that my old man is just stuck somewhere without a cell signal. Hopefully it’ll blow over in a few days.”
Reggie’s grin faltered, but he seemed to be doing his best to keep it alive. “Yeah, me too. But listen — Sarah. Sometimes these things… well, sometimes they don’t go to plan. If your father did get himself into some sort of trouble…”
She stopped him. “I get it. You don’t have to give me the details. I just want to know, you know? I can’t live with myself, not knowing what happened to him.”
Suddenly the shorter man that had walked into the bar was there, right next to Reggie. “Your father is fine,” the man said. His dark, scratchy voice matched his eyes in some strange way. They fit together well.
“Who the hell — “
The man leaned in toward Reggie, forcing him sideways into the booth. Sarah watched Reggie push back against the man, bringing his arms up and toward him. Reggie, however, was in the worse position, his legs stuck beneath the table and his long torso crammed between the upright seat back and the edge of the table itself.
