poured herself a cup of coffee.
She paced and then stared out the kitchen window, watching the sun peek over the horizon, careful to keep her mind blank, not ready to face anything yet. But the insidious thoughts found their way in. How could Drew be dead? He wouldn't have killed himself. She knew that. But what then had happened?
Giving herself a mental shake, she muttered, “Pull it together.”
She dumped the now-cold coffee in the sink and poured a new cup. She pulled out a bowl for cereal and then put it back. Not hungry.
She looked around for something to do. She’d tidied up the kitchen last night in her burst of frenzied cleaning, so that was out. The papers were still standing there, waiting to be graded, but she wasn’t up for the task right now. Her eyes fell on her laptop. It couldn’t be put off any longer.
She flipped open the computer, which she’d left on last night. It had gone into hibernation. Tapping on the space bar, the password screen appeared. Hip perched against the counter, she typed in her password and began the familiar steps of getting into her email account.
Taking a deep breath, she opened Drew’s attachment. She didn’t read it, just hit the print command for the wireless printer upstairs. Once complete, she shut the computer down. She leaned against the counter, her mug nestled between her hands. Grief fell over her like a shroud.
“Drew,” she whispered. Her body weakened at the mental image of him lifeless and hanging.
“No,” she ordered herself as her legs began to shake. She pushed off the counter. He’d asked her for one last thing. And, damn it, she was going to do it.
She walked up the stairs and pulled the papers from the output tray in the office. She curled up on the overstuffed chair she and Drew had found at a garage sale a few years back. Shoving away the anguish the memory evoked, she concentrated on his words:
Gobekli Tepe. The name conjures up one of the greatest archaeological mysteries of the late twentieth century. Sonar readings of the Turkish site have revealed a series of concentric circles arranged much like Stonehenge, but measuring out at an astounding 18,000 square meters.
The fifteen-ton limestone megaliths unearthed so far reveal incredible masonry. Animal reliefs extend from the structures and pictographs were painstakingly carved upon the hard rock. While there are many disagreements about Gobekli Tepe, there is one area upon which all agree: whatever hands created this site were truly talented.
And that is where the problem lies. The beginning of civilization is attributed to the emergence of the developments around the Fertile Crescent, in the area currently known as the Middle East and Eastern Europe, somewhere between 3000 and 2000 BC.
Carbon dating of Gobekli Tepe, however, indicates that the site is over 11,000 years old – almost double the age of the ruins at the Fertile Crescent. That makes Gobekli Tepe an impossibility. Mankind should not have been capable of such an incredible feat. And yet, there Gobekli Tepe stands, mocking us, daring us to write off the incredible skill necessary for its creation.
The only possible explanation for its existence is that we have misidentified the beginning of civilization. Civilization, in terms of scientific advancement and accomplishments, must have begun much farther down the timeline. If that is indeed the case, it opens the door to the possibility of more ancient, unknown, but technologically advanced civilizations. It opens the door to the possibility of Atlantis.
Atlantis has often been relegated-
Her eyes lifted from the paper and she frowned. It sounded like something scratching at the back door. She glanced at the clock. Could be her uncle if he got someone else to cover Mass.
She paused, straining to hear. Only silence now. She waited, but the house remained quiet.
She shook
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni