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Episode 093 |
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“The faithful are not likely to distinguish between
alchemy and the will of God.” Father Cornello, Full Metal Alchemist The paper smelled of old memories. Emma turned the page carefully, the yellow paper
brittle beneath her gloved fingertips.
On the next page, several diagrams were drawn in pain-staking detail,
while the notes around them were written in a variety of languages. The text flowed from one tongue to the
next, using the most appropriate word rather than finding a suitable
translation. She drew back and lowered her white surgical mask. On the other side of the metal table, Jason
was flipping through some other books, a stumped look on his face. “Find anything?” Emma asked, her voice
echoing repeatedly around the sterile room. “No,” Jason said, closing the book with a loud
‘thump’. He laid it on the pile of
other books and leaned back in his chair.
“I’ve poured over just every text we have and I can’t seem to find
much that’d be all that helpful.
Atlantis is as much a mystery to the magical communities as it is to
the rest of the world.” Emma nodded, going back to the book. She scoured over the writing, then turned
the page. She started reading the
first line when she stopped. She
looked at the page for a moment, then turned back a page. Jason noticed and perked up. “What’s up?” Emma compared the writing of the two pages, looking
back and forth between each. “This
page,” she said, flipping to the current one, “is written in a different
ink.” She flipped forward several
pages, then went back. “These two
pages are the only two written in this ink.” “What do you mean?” Jason asked, coming around the
four-seat table to look over her shoulder. “This page is written in a fine ink,” she said,
flipping to a random page. “This one
too. And this one. And this one.” She flipped to the current page. “But this one is written in broader
strokes, almost like a paint brush.
And it’s painted with some kind of fine oil paint, not writing ink.” Jason looked over her shoulder, unable to comprehend
the letters. “What’s it say?” Emma looked at the entry for a moment. Her lips moved, sounding out the
words. Her finger traced her attention
as she moved down the page. “It talks
about the three, five lost continents.” “Lost continents?” Jason asked. He looked up. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” “In human history, there are five lands that have
endured through myth,” Emma said, still trailing the letters as she
read. “Atlantis is the most famous,
but there’s also Mu, Lemuria, She looked up at Jason.
“I can’t be sure, but I think this is talking about the five
continents rising being a symbol.” She
looked back at the page. “Not symbol;
that can’t be right.” She read for a
moment longer, Jason wait in anticipation.
“When the five continents are raised,” she said, looking up, “it is
the marker of the change of history.” “What’s that mean?” Jason asked, flipping his head to
throw his hair out of his face. “It means if this island is Atlantis, there’s going to
be more to come,” she concluded. Dr. Howitz hung up the phone and looked across his desk
at Assif. “The “That is one of the theories,” Assif answered. “The volcanic eruption theory, the next
most likely option, is losing credibility fast.” “Who would have raised it?” Howitz asked. “Whoever stole the book from the knight,” Assif said. “Any luck finding him?” Howitz asked off-handedly. “We know that he hasn’t returned to the The doctor nodded for a moment. Assif glanced beyond him to the pictures
that lined the back of his desk. It
showed him standing with a young man in a cap and gown. The two stood next to each other as if
strangers. “How is Donovan?” Howitz looked up as if startled. “What?” “Donovan?” Assif asked.
“How is he?” “Oh,” he said, going back his thinking. “He’s married. He has a child, two children now.” He stopped.
“I think two children. I don’t
recall.” An uncomfortable silence fell on the two in the stuffy
heat. Overhead, a fan turned quietly,
moving just fast enough to stir the air without making it any cooler. “Do you have a recommendation for which nation should
take control of the initial investigation?” Assif asked. “I think “What are we asking them to ‘just observe’?” Assif
asked, confused. Howitz sighed, his mustache ruffling with his
breath. He turned in his chair to the
rear of his desk and picked up a folder and handed it to Assif. “That’s a satellite image taken an hour
ago. It’s a topographical satellite
that evaluates the top layers of soil and ground to determine its
composition.” He turned in his chair
and faced away in his windowless office.
“Given the type of soil that the island rose from, the image should
show mostly cool blues and greens.” When
Assif opened the file, he found organized rings and shapes of consistent,
dark red. He looked up at Howitz,
astonished. “There’s metal on that
island that isn’t indigenous to the location.
Moreover, given the density, it would appear to be tempered.” |
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