Paradox: On the Sharp Edge of the Blade

by E. S. Martell

The officer scoffed derisively, then handed the bag back along with the license and the registration paper. He kept the light shining in Logan's face as he said, “You'd better get on back to your homework. I know where the dig is. I'll be checking tomorrow to see if you're actually working there. You'd better be. Now, get going.”

  Logan replaced his papers in his wallet, turned on the ignition, and started off slowly. It was just his luck to get hassled unjustly. It seemed like he was always guilty over nothing. People just liked to pick on him.

  Chapter 3: SAND, DUST, AND MUCK

  By Sunday, Logan's hands had recovered somewhat. He'd learned that there was a knack to digging, and now he didn't wear himself out as quickly. He had, he guessed, dug enough dirt to fill the Gulf of Mexico.

  During breakfast, Mandi showed up, and announced that they would be making an excursion to the nearby Crystal River State Park Archaeological Site. It was their next-door neighbor, so to speak, but Logan had never visited it.

  The park contained a six mound complex that had been dated to about 250 BC. The area had apparently been occupied for over two thousand years, starting about 500 BC. Copper tools from the Ohio River area had been found there, indicating early trade. No one was sure how much earlier the site had been used.

  As she was talking, a university bus pulled up. She waved at it, saying, “Professor Dameron was good enough to arrange for transportation. That way we can keep close track of all of you.”

  She looked over her shoulder. The professor was just coming out of his tent, stretching. He strode over to the dining area, yawned, and then looked them over, a half-sneering smile on his face.

  “I see you're all up and ready to go. Good. I've arranged a treat for you. We're going over to the Crystal River Park site. I expect you to stay together with your tent mates. Each tent group will write a joint report of not less than ten pages. You will cover all of the salient aspects of the site, including any geographical features that might have disposed the Paleo-Indians to select that precise location. Make careful observations and record them. Pretend that you're the first archaeologist to discover the site, and that you're evaluating it as a potential dig site.”

  He paused for questions. There were none, so he continued, “I've got good news. We've finally gotten our Wi-Fi set up. The network name is UFArch1. The password is Dameron. You have my permission to use the Internet for research on this paper. I expect you to email it to me by tomorrow at six p.m. It will be ten percent of your grade for this session, so do a good job. Now, finish eating, and then get on the bus. We'll be leaving in fifteen minutes.”

  He started to turn away, but stopped and turned back. “One thing. I'm only going to warn you once. The site Wi-Fi is only to be used for research and filing reports. Anyone caught using it for gaming, video or music streaming, or X-rated activities will receive a failing grade. No exceptions. You may, however, use it for personal email. But, no social media of any kind. Understand?”

  No one said anything. He looked at them, and then turned back to his tent, motioning for Mandi to follow. He disappeared through the flaps, with her close on his heels.

  The bus ride was only about five minutes long. Logan couldn't see why they couldn't have taken their own vehicles or even walked. It took longer to board the students, than the actual drive took. The site had a paved parking area that could have accommodated everyone's vehicles. It wasn't over half a mile from their dig site.

  The students trickled out of the bus, arranged themselves in groups with their tent mates, and filtered into the site.

  Logan had no confidence in his ability to notice important features of the site, but he had even less confidence in his tent mates. The other guys seemed to think that the excursion was boring. Their conversation was mostly about various celebrities. Logan lagged behind, madly taking notes of what he hoped were important aspects of the park. The threat of not graduating had gradually increased his motivation and now he was more focused on schoolwork than he'd ever been.

  The group randomly wandered over to an unprepossessing, grass-covered hill that had a stairway leading to the top. The sign by the base of the stairs labeled the hill as the Temple Mound. It stood all of twenty-eight feet high.

  Logan started up, but Rick, who was heavier than the others, said, “I'm not goin' to climb that thing. There can't be anything interesting up there.” He paused to mop the sweat off his brow with a red bandanna that he carried, tucked into his rear pocket.

  He was seconded by Tim. “Neither am I. Hey, Walker, let us know what's on top? Will ya? You're already part way up.”

  Logan didn't reply, but trudged up the wooden steps. There was a bit of breeze on top. The wind was coming from the nearby Crystal River. He could see the water through the pine trees and palms. The breeze was refreshing and he stood there enjoying the momentary respite from the oppressive humidity and heat that clung to the ground. The river seemed slightly familiar like something seen once in a dream.

  After a moment, Logan shook off the feeling, turned, and descended.

  “Well? What's up there?” Tim asked. “Worthwhile?”

  Logan made a noncommittal half-grin and answered, “Nice view of the water. There's a bit of a breeze up there.”

  That was enough for Rick. He was now perspiring heavily. “Maybe it's worth climbing after all. I'll go up there and try to come up with something to write about. Why don't you all look around? Come back and get me when you're done. Don't forget to take notes.”

  He turned towards the steps, missing the smirks the others made at his transparency. They all knew that he'd probably be asleep shortly after he reached the top.

  They left Rick trudging heavily up the steps, and headed for a nearby roofed structure. It was a simple variant of a chikee hut: just four supporting posts, a thatched roof, and a wooden fence that protected a large, irregular piece of yellowish limestone.

  The stone caught Logan's eye as they approached. There was something about it that wasn't right. He stumbled a little on the uneven ground, caught his balance, and then thought, it shouldn't be there. That stone has been moved here from the beach. I wonder who did that?

  He shook his head to clear it. How would he know where the stone came from?

  The group reached the fence. There was a vague set of scratches on the stone. They formed a rough human face. There was a placard on the fence showing a crude face labeled: The Face in the Stone.

  Logan shook his head again. He felt that the original carving was far more elaborate and he was certain the face was that of a girl, but who? And, how could he be so sure?

  He asked the others, “Can you guys tell anything about that carving?”

  Tim answered, “Naw, it's just some old scratchings. Those people were terrible artists.”

  Shawn chimed in. “Looks like an old man to me. Maybe it's supposed to be a swamp ape.”

  The others laughed at the absurdity.

  The face continued to fascinate Logan. He lingered behind as the others walked off towards another mound. The face held a message for him. If only he could decipher it. He sank into a dream-like state.

  There was danger nearby. Enemies could be close. The stone had some meaning that was expressly for him. It was something almost sacred. Something that brought a wave of loss mixed with hope over him. The carving seemed to see into him and he dreamed that he heard the carved girl's face say his name, “Logan...” from a great distance.

  Just then Mandi kicked his shin. “I said, 'wake up.' You're not supposed to go to sleep. You should be with the others, taking notes.”

  He jumped, then looked sheepishly at her. She was good looking. If only she'd be interested in him... No, that wasn't likely. He looked down, then said, “I was wondering about who made that carving.”

  She snorted, “Read your handout, dope.”

  He'd forgotten the sheet of paper that he'd been handed as he exited the bus. He fumbled it out of his back pocket and unfolded it to read.

  The
slab was limestone and the face was believed to be female. The stele was unique in Florida for that time frame. Such carvings were normally only found in Central and South America, and the Caribbean.

  Mandi had walked off to check on another group of students. He paused, studying the markings again. Something about them brought tears to his eyes. It was like he had lost something or someone dear, someone he'd never see again.

  He felt momentarily dizzy. “Must be the heat,” he muttered. He took a couple of staggering steps, then dropped to one knee and placed his hand on the ground. After a moment, he stood up, and headed towards the bus. There was a cooler there with water. He was probably dehydrated. A bottle of water would be good.

  Dameron drove up in his Chrysler convertible just as Logan opened the bottle of water. He walked directly towards Logan, and said, “Mr. Walker. Taking a break already? I sincerely hope that you've enough notes to make a good paper.”

  Logan answered, “Not yet, Professor. I felt like I was dehydrated, so I came for some water.”

  By that point, Dameron was close. He lowered his tone to a semi-whisper, scowled at Logan, and said, “I didn't want you here. I don't think you're serious about school. I won't cut you any slack, Mister. If your paper or your work at the dig fall even a little bit short, I'll flunk you.”

  Logan started to protest, but Dameron held up his hand. “Yes, I know all about your graduation requirement. I don't care. If you have to wait tables for the rest of your life, I think that would be appropriate. That seems to be a good match for your capabilities. Now get back with your group. And try to surprise me with your paper.”

  As Logan walked out along the paved path to catch up with the other guys he wondered how Dameron had heard about his inheritance problem. Maybe Professor Berensten had told him. He couldn't think of any other way the man could have known. He contented himself with the idea that even Berensten didn't know how much he stood to inherit. “Or, lose,” he whispered to himself.

  Then it struck him. Dameron had implied that Logan would have to work, if he didn't graduate. He hadn't told Professor Berensten about the trust. What did Dameron know and how?

  When he rounded a clump of palmettos, he saw the group directly ahead. Rick had come down from the hilltop, and was sweating along with the rest of them as they checked the next mound.

  Logan sped his strides, and caught up. The group as a whole had taken only a half page of notes. That wouldn't do. He had to do something. He cleared his throat self-consciously, and said, “Hey, guys. Why don't we at least pace off the distance between the mounds, and make a map. Maybe we could walk around them, too, to get a circumference.”

  Rick wiped his face then said, “Okay, maybe that's a good idea. Toby, why don't you try to figure out how high each one is. That can be part of it.”

  Logan continued, ignoring Rick's attempt to regain control. “We also need to know how far we are from the river. These people probably had some kind of boats or canoes. They had something in mind when they built these mounds. Let's try to figure out their basic plan.”

  The others groaned, but began to take the assignment more seriously.

  The memory of the stele continued to pick at Logan as they gathered their data. Why had he responded as he had? What possible connection did the stele and the carved face have with him? It was a complete mystery. He figured that stress had finally gotten to him. Either that, or he really was suffering from heat stroke. Either way, he couldn't seem to forget the heartsick pang that he'd felt for a moment.

  He'd had a puppy for a brief time before he entered first grade. A car had struck it the day before school started. He could remember feeling the same sense of loss then.

  The groups gathered by the bus at noon, boarded, and were transported back to the dig site. Mandi informed them that they'd each need to pick up a new assignment for the next week as soon as they ate. Sighing, Logan sat down with his sandwich and chips. He ate slowly, trying to make sense of the morning.

  When he was done, he got in line to receive his new work orders. He was surprised to see that he had graduated from general digger to having a grid square assigned to his care. It wasn't one that was likely to hold any artifacts though. It was located on the far side of the dig, closer to the river and the mounds.

  Chapter 4: A REVELATION

  Mid-afternoon found Logan sweating, but happy. He was working on his own, personal grid square. He hadn't found anything of note so far, but his imagination was working overtime. He could imagine himself carefully uncovering some artifact that was amazingly rare. Even a common arrowhead would be fun. If only his blisters didn't hurt so much. He hoped they'd get better in a day or so.

  He'd carefully scraped dirt and sand, sifted repeatedly, and examined all of the pieces that remained in the screen. So far: nothing. But he told himself, that it was just a matter of time.

  As he worked, he kept an ear tuned to the other students, all of whom were working in more productive grids. Several had already turned up artifacts. Stone tools, and broken projectile points were fairly common. There was an area that had apparently been the center of activity. The grids there contained a lot of charcoal along with animal bones that showed signs of human cooking.

  Logan shook his head, trying to ignore an excited outburst. Someone had found a spear point or something of the sort. He glanced up momentarily, and stopped dead.

  Mandi was standing at the edge of his grid watching, her hands on her hips and an expression of disapproval on her face.

  When she saw that she had his attention, she said, “You're going way too fast. You've got to be more careful with your trowel. Take the time to document everything you find and examine even the smallest item. Anything could offer us a useful clue as to how this site was used.”

  He nodded, continuing to scrape with his trowel. Following her instructions, he proceeded more deliberately.

  She watched for a moment more, then turned to leave, saying, “If you don't do better, I'm going to recommend to the professor that you go back to overburden removal. We've got plenty of more skilled people.”

  She strode off, heading directly towards Dameron. Logan could see the professor smile as she approached. The two stood close together, talking. Dameron glanced in Logan's direction, scowled, then headed for his tent. Mandi followed.

  That was no good. He'd had enough of the shoveling to last a lifetime. Now that he finally was doing something that might result in a discovery, he didn't want to quit. He continued, gradually lowering the level of the grid as he went, and taking the time to record every possible artifact in his notebook.

  During the next two hours Logan found three broken bits of stone that might have been spear heads, a piece of burned bone, and what might have been a fragment of a flint core, left over from knapping points. The core stone was small and had been pretty well used up. It wasn't a really good find, but he dutifully documented everything, using a unique context number for each item and location.

  Once he'd recorded and stored each piece, he returned to his stratigraphic excavation, cyclically troweling the surface, looking for new contexts and edges. It was harder than he'd thought it would be. He had started with a tendency to under-cut, which meant he often failed to fully expose the items in their precise context. That might mean that his records might not match correctly when compared to other grid elements.

  After Mandi's reprimand, he proceeded with more care. He fully exposed each item that he found before recording it and its context. He suspected that he was at the extreme edge of the occupied zone. There wouldn't be much out here. Maybe the pieces he'd found had been tossed away from the fire in disgust, or maybe someone had dropped them accidentally.

  He wished that he had more direct supervision, someone to actually show him what he needed to do. It was apparent that Dameron wasn't interested in his progress or understanding. He was being left to sink or swim, and Dameron had made it clear that he'd be quite happy if Logan sank.

  Quittin
g time came before he was quite ready. He'd troweled off the surface layer, but still had a quarter of the grid to phase, that is, he reminded himself, to reduce to a contemporaneous horizon.

  If he could get the hang of bringing the ground down evenly, then it would be easier to place items he found in their proper age and context with other artifacts.

  Theoretically, the entire site should be cleared in such a way that all artifacts deposited at a specific time could be related to each other and not confused with ones that were deposited either before or afterwards. Logan liked the idea, but didn't know if he was working accurately.

  He consoled himself with the idea that Dameron had probably placed him way off to the side, because it wasn't an important part of the site. He probably would not find anything very interesting out here.

  After dinner, he talked to his tent mates. Their discussion made him feel a little better. They'd returned to their tent and carefully pulled the mosquito netting. No sense exposing themselves to Zika or Eastern Equine or something.