The Fool's Thesis

A boat moved through the swamp, surrounded by an endless array of mangroves and reeds. Clouds that threatened rain at any moment obscured the sun, but no rain fell from the sky; instead, it darkened everything around the boat with a dreary, dark gray. The air was heavy, humid, and uncomfortable.

Inside the boat was a middle-aged man with a thick beard and long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore loose-fitting clothes made of brown cotton and linen sewn together with thread. The man's legs were spread out, and his hands gripped a wooden fishing rod with a hooked metal raven mounted to its end. As he sat quietly, he loudly yawned for several seconds before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

The sounds of crickets and frogs provided background noise. There was no wind to disturb the stillness, just the gentle lapping of waves against the sides of the boat. Occasionally, a bird would chirp in the distance, giving the whole affair a musical undertone. After a minute passed, a thump sounded. The fishing rod had hit the edge of the boat. The man in the boat sat up straight and looked at the water with his piercing blue eyes.

A bite.

The man grinned as he effortlessly reeled the fish up onto the side of the boat. An increase in background noise from the frogs and crickets accompanied the sound of the fish slapping on the boat floor. He reached down and grabbed hold of the fish at its base. It was a large fish, not big, but it would be plenty for dinner. Its body was olive, with a few white stripes running along its sides. His smile became a frown as he further examined the fish.

Why isn't it struggling?

Usually, they would fight the line and flop around when pulled to the surface, but this fish was completely limp.

He pulled the hook free and observed the heavy fish in his hands. It was alive. Its eyes looked dull, but not dead.

What could have happened to make this poor creature so docile?

The fish seemed to have given up on life itself. As if it knew that struggling for its continued existence would be pointless.

He shook his head in disapproval before throwing the fish onto the boat floor, making a loud slap.

Sitting in the boat for what seemed like hours without food or water was beginning to take its toll on him. He took another deep, loud breath and reset his fishing rod. A few seconds later, he felt the tug of the line.

Another catch!

This time, the man smiled wider as he effortlessly pulled the fish out of the water. Yet again, he pulled the hook free and examined the fish. It was the same as the last one in its appearance and demeanor, limp yet alive, as if it knew it couldn't escape its hunter.

The man slapped the fish onto the boat floor and grabbed his oars. He pushed them forward and began paddling. The splashing of water became loud as the man progressively put more effort into each stroke. His breathing, as a result, also became louder.

The sound of the swamp could no longer be heard; only the sounds of splashing water. When the man stopped to take a breath, the world became completely silent.

After taking a long, drawn-out silent yawn, he started rowing again, but this time he could not hear the splashing of water.

Lightning struck, lighting up the sky and illuminating the green canopy overhead; however, the boom of thunder was nowhere to be found; it had been muted.

Snap!

All that could be heard was the snap of fingers, followed by a loud crash.

The man's eardrums burst.

He silently screamed out in pain as blood poured out of his eyes and ears.

As the pain intensified, the man looked around in agony to see who his hunter was—just who exactly had done this. He turned to the left bank of the river and saw a man wearing an unbuttoned black lounge suit and sunglasses.

Snap!

Crimson is all that was left.

***

"Throw down the lantern!"

The words echoed throughout the dark chamber, reverberating off the walls and bouncing off the ceiling. There was a brief pause.

"No. I still need to get down."

A woman's voice replied overhead.

In the dark, a young man stood idly as he held an extinguished oil lantern high over his shoulder. He had been waiting there for some time now, trying to decide whether he should take his chances exploring the ruins alone.

After a minute, a light could be seen slowly making its way down the ladder in front of him. As it got lower, the light's carrier, a young woman with light brown skin and black hair styled in braids, climbed down the ladder and landed lightly on her feet. 

Michelle was dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a matching shirt. Over her shirt was an open gray robe that hung down to her ankles, with a small bag slung across her chest filled with supplies and tools. She wore boots that ended right below the knees and had a simple silver necklace dangling from her neck.

Michelle raised the oil lantern in her hand, illuminating the young man who had been waiting for her. He was tall and lean, with short, curly brown hair and bright green eyes. He wore a pair of black trousers tucked into brown boots and a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Atop his shirt was a brown vest and a gray cloak draped around his shoulders.

The man said, "It took you long enough! Waiting in the dark like this was scary. How far down is this place, anyway?"

Michelle responded, "You should know that already, Clay. You came down first."

Clay, as she called him, sighed and said, "I was just asking. It's hard to tell when you have to do it without light."

He gestured to the oil lantern in Michelle's left hand and said, "Give it to me; I'll go first."

Michelle held it away from him, "I'm not letting you break a third one. I'll go first; you'll follow me."

Clay tried to argue, but the look Michelle gave him silenced him.

She began walking, with Clay following behind her. The lantern's orange glow illuminated their surroundings, revealing marble walls and a floor of smooth white marble with geometric lines forming square patterns.

They walked in silence for a while until Michelle asked out of curiosity.

"So, how did you find this place?"

"It was kind of random. While I was on a walk, some kids told me that a big hole opened up in Naranja after the earthquake. So, I went to check it out myself and figured that something was off about the place."

Michelle looked at Clay with confusion, so he knocked on the wall to his left and asked,

"Does this place seem strange to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The walls and the floors are all made of a special material. The floor's designs are all perfect squares and fitted together like they were just cut from quarries; the lines in the floor are all perpendicular."

Michelle nodded, and Clay continued, "It's completely clear that this place is man-made. The question now is-"

Michelle interrupted, "It doesn't look abnormal at the entrance. Why the hell would you try climbing down here?"

Clay found himself at a loss for words. His ears flushed red as he looked down and confessed, "I needed material for my graduate thesis on the archaeological history of Myami."

After 3 seconds of silence, Michelle burst into laughter, filling the chamber with echoes.

"Oh god, you're a fool! You chose to make your thesis about archaeology in Myami, of all places. This place is a swamp! What were you going to study, leaves? Oh, I know, there's a few nice huts in Flagami you could look at!"

Clay was silent as he took in her mocking. He couldn't come up with a rational explanation for the decision and was sure he was in for a lecture on the folly of his actions.

"I know the thesis is due in a month, but risking your life to get data is insane, crazy, baffling, ridiculous…" After consulting her internal thesaurus and getting in a few last chuckles, she asked, "what's so special about this place that you needed to beg for my help?"

Clay looked up and said, "I need help determining what period this could be from. You did a class on Floridan history, didn't you?"

"Yes, but the class was honestly a joke. I don't think I can be much help to you."

"Just try your best, please."

Michelle examined the floor as she spoke. "Well, it's impossible for the locals to have created this. There's a chance that this was built during the Caribbean period, but that's a stretch."

Clay then said with a hopeful inflection in his voice, "Is it possible this place was built during the Silicon Age?"

Michelle went silent again, her mind racing as she contemplated the idea. She looked up into the darkness.

"Maybe, we need more evidence."

The pair kept walking through the hall. The only sounds were their footsteps echoing. It was narrow, and the ceiling was low. It was barely wide enough for the two of them to fit. The pair eventually reached a staircase that led down. It appeared to be made of a material similar to marble but smoother. They descended it, reaching a door. Michelle stopped and held up the lantern to inspect it.

The door was wide and had no markings or symbols on it. Michelle reached out and gently placed her hand on the door, before turning around and saying, "Open the door."

Clay was taken aback by her request, but Michelle's glare pushed him into obeying. Taking a deep breath, he pushed on the door, causing it to swing open. Inside, they saw a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The floor was covered with white marble tiles with geometric designs etched into them. Aside from the excess dust, the room looked sterile and empty.

There was nothing inside the room except a large pod with a glass slab resting atop it near the center.

Clay, touching the wall, said, "Move the lantern here. I think I see some words."

Michelle moved the lantern towards a section of the wall where there appeared to be some sort of writing etched into the marble. Clay leaned in close and read aloud slowly, "Al….co…r life exte….nsion found….ation."

Michelle said, "That's in Silicon English, isn't it?"

Clay nodded excitedly. "Yes, this basically confirms this is from the Silicon Age!"

Clay started fist-pumping in the air as he celebrated. "We have it made; after this find, our futures as archaeologists are guaranteed. They couldn't fail my thesis even if they wanted to!"

Michelle, trying to suppress her smile, scolded, "Your future! I'm trying to become a lawyer."

Clay stopped and stared at Michelle blankly as he realized what he'd said.

Michelle shook her head, smiling as she said, "Don't worry, I forgive you. Let's keep looking through. You'll need more information to make a complete report."

Michelle and Clay looked through the room, but found nothing else except for the pod. They walked towards it. Michelle held the lantern above it as Clay cleared the glass of dust.

As the glass was cleaned, the two saw a figure inside the glass. A naked young man with pale skin and closed eyes, the body was rather frail and decrepit.

Clay asked, "Is this some kind of mummy?"

Michelle responded, "No, this is just a corpse. It's impressive that it's been preserved for so long."

Clay nodded in acknowledgment as he suggested, "We should take him back to Myami with us. That will definitely make my thesis stand out."

Michelle looked at him with disgust. "Get your filthy hands off of this thing."

Clay obeyed, and remained silent as he pondered what to do.

"Alright, let's head back. Who should we contact about our find? The university?"

Michelle shrugged, "I suppose so. We need to make sure this is handled delicately. If word gets out about this, looters will pick the entire ruin clean in no time."

Clay agreed saying, "Alright, you lead the way."

Michelle started walking toward the exit. She was about to leave the room when she noticed Clay wasn't following her. She turned around and saw Clay standing still, looking at the pod with his mouth agape.

"What's wrong?"

Clay didn't respond, so she walked back to the pod and looked down at the corpse inside.

Its eyes were open.