Page 19 of Ancient Obsession

Oliver shouldered his bag and approached. “How are you?”

“I’m good, yeah, doing okay.” Robin stopped in front of him and stuffed their hands in the pockets of their jeans. They sighed and repeated, “I’m good.”

“What’s going on?” Oliver felt a whisper of concern. “Did something happen to the mummy in transit?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s just…” Their eyes flicked off to the side and a blush colored their cheeks. “My friend didn’t tell her professor she’d invited me. And the professor definitely didn’t know I invited you.”

A chill went up the back of Oliver’s neck like a whisper. “Oh. We’ve been disinvited?”

“No, we can still attend. But we might need to, like, I dunno, sign an NPR or something.”

Oliver cocked his head. “National Public Radio?”

“What? No. Like one of those contracts that say you can’t tell people about stuff.”

“Oh, an NDA. A non-disclosure agreement.”

“Yeah, that. I guess the professor wants to, like, write up a paper or something about all of this herself, so she doesn’t want anyone spoiling the surprise or whatever.”

Hand pressing hard against the side of the bag, he clenched his jaw. He’d gotten his hopes up about the mummy helping him quickly generate some momentum on TikTok, but now he’d have to start brainstorming from scratch. The strong and childish impulse to stomp off was difficult to suppress.

Moving past his initial response, Oliver dredged up a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, I get it. I’m sure she’ll be making a video for her own records.”

“Yeah, sure, of course she will.” They looked up and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about this happening when I suggested it.”

“It’s not your fault.” Oliver was surprised to discover that deep down he did understand. If he had discovered a mummy before anyone else, he’d want first dibs at the story as well. “I should have anticipated it. As long as we’re still able to attend.”

Robin nodded, smile flashing again. “Oh, we are. She said that, the professor, I mean. We can absolutely watch. We just can’t make a video or anything like that.”

“Okay. Let me put this stuff back in my car, and we’ll go meet this mummy.”

Walking into the Earth Sciences building was like entering a Costco-level variety of scents: harsh chemicals, briny salt water, dry and dusty hard rock, and the damp and nutrient-rich smell of soil. The building was home to geology, archaeology, oceanography, meteorology, and a host of other ologies, and it seemed to Oliver as if each was trying to outdo the others.

In his mind, Oliver had pictured them descending a flight of stairs to a large cinderblock-walled space, like the storage area of museums he’d seen in movies. Walls lined with shelves packed with various artifacts and ancient scrolls.

Instead, the room Robin led him to at the far end of a first-floor hallway was more like a recording studio. They entered into a sound and video control booth, complete with a complicated instrument board sporting three color monitors displaying feeds from cameras in the examination area beyond. A young man and a young woman sat in roller chairs at the console, both wearing padded headphones. Both looked up when they stepped inside.

“This is my friend Beryl,” Robin said, gesturing to the woman. She was Black with short, bright purple hair and glasses, and she smiled and waved. “And this guy is Ricky.” The man had long, straight hair and a beard that grew down to his chest. He nodded and flashed a peace sign. “They’re going to be recording all of this. This is Oliver.”

Oliver raised his hand in greeting before following Robin through a door into the inner work area. He stopped and stared. When he thought about mummies and tombs, he pictured sarcophagi crafted from stone and decorated with gold and intricate carvings. The vessel resting on a pedestal in the middle of the space was a coffin. It was smaller and less grandiose than he’d imagined. Faded yellow paint had flaked off the sides and top, but Oliver guessed the color must have been bright back in the day.

Heavy panels on every wall reinforced the impression of a recording studio. Three digital cameras on tripods stood around the coffin, one at the base, and one each side. Cables ran from the back of each camera and plugged into jacks in the wall.

“Hi, Professor Brennan, this is Oliver, my friend I told you about,” Robin said.

A small, thin woman, her shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, stopped in the middle of what she had been saying to four students in a corner of the room and snapped her head around.

“It’s Doctor Brennan.”

“Sorry,” Robin whispered.

“I want to be perfectly clear,” she continued in a firm, smooth tone that brooked no allowance for bargaining or disagreement. “This is my discovery, and I will manage the release of our findings. Do you understand?”

Oliver took half a step back. “I understand. Thank you for allowing me to participate.”

“You are not a participant. You are an observer. You are not to touch anything, either of you. Your only role is to stand back and observe.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin slightly. “I would have you in the control room with Ricky and Beryl, but I want them undisturbed and focused on capturing everything we uncover.”

“I’ll do my best to stay out of your way,” Oliver said.