"The Brazen Skull"

"The Brazen Skull"

10/10-10/13/2024

I.

"Now is when I'm going to turn all my diplomas to the wall and go total crackpot," announced Professor Emeritus Alan T. Sherrinford.

Seated at that openwork wrought iron table outside the bistro, his two colleagues did not visibly react. Sherrinford had always been given to flamboyant figures of speech. The oldest of the group at seventy-three, he was a solid bulk whose face and body had relaxed into a comfortable sagging shape. The old-fashioned Irish tweed suit with a herringbone pattern was conservative enough, but his tie was so loosely knotted that both his friends had to fight an urge to reach over and fix it. Thin white fluffy hair refused to stay in place if there was the slightest breeze.

To his right sat Dr Helen Fletcher, poised at a handsome middle age of fifty where her cherubic good looks had become more dignified and imposing. The still-thick black hair was pulled back into a bun and the dark thoughtful eyes were countered by a wry smile growing more pronounced. At the third post of their triangle was the youngest, Ben 'Snark' Millet, still under thirty but quite well off from his simpified YouTube essays on prehistory which were helpful to students desperate to finish their own papers. Snark was a small, energetic young man distinguished by wild stiff black hair that never remained tame for too long. A pointed nose and zealous expression added to the impression he made.

"Ah, it wouldn't be the first time you went off at a wild angle," Fletcher said. "I rather enjoy these digressions. They are always colorful and refreshing."

"Yes, yes, what is it this time?" demanded Snark.

Sherrinford tapped his long dead pipe with evident disappointment and pocketed it. "Damned briar won't stay lit. Anyway my friends, I think I'm on to something big but at the moment, it's all terribly tenuous. You know about the thin layer of iridium found all over the planet?"

"Yes, certainly, it was left by the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs."

"What I seem to have found is something rather similar. I've been noting incidents and collecting examples for more than twenty years now," Sherrinford said. "Let me phrase this carefully. All over the world, I have found a paper-thin line through archaeological digs every kind. No one seems to have even noticed it. The earth and rocks above and below this line are very nearly identical... but not quite!"

"Well, that's interesting," Helen Fletcher said diplomatically, smiling and leaning forward. "Just
how long ago was this line created?"

"Thirty thousand years. Give or take a few thousand, I use that date for convenience. During the Neolithic. Samples above and below the line are chemically and structurally almost identical but," and here he repeated himself with emphasis, "Not quite!"

They had all ordered mixed drinks and Snark had finished his promptly. He had been examining the empty glass with evident disappointment but now he glanced up. "I'll admit it, I have no idea what you're getting at. Was there some sort of worldwide disaster? Volcanos? A global flood or something?"

"No." Sherrinford took a minute to gather his thoughts. "All my hypotheses are completely ridiculous. The explanations I come up with are so wild I laugh at them myself."

"Alan, we know you too well," Fletcher said. "You're agitated. You're still fiddling with your pipe and you keep watching everyone walking by as if they're going to hit you. What's the matter?"

Sherrinford sighed. "I can't hide anything from you two. Yes. Let me get to it. I've spent way too much time on this but basically, since the early 1800s, there have been hundreds of anomalous finds discovered exactly at this thirty thousand year mark. Steel tools where there should be no steel, unidentifiable coins, buckles and brooches, even a few curved swords... way before even the earliest proposed Bronze Age limits."

"That IS odd," Fletcher put in.

"The archaeological community simply shrugs and overlooks all this. There's not even any effort to cover it up, all the journals and seminars just act like there's nothing worth discussing. And even that's not the worst." Sherrinford's rather fair-skinned features had gone even paler. "I've been concentrating on a dozen instances of artifacts discovered which are made of a strange reddish-colored metal which seems to be an iron alloy. These particular artifacts go missing soon after discovery.. and violence is involved!"

Between his long pointed nose and swept-back porcupine hair, Snark always seemed inquisitive but now he actually leaned forward and stared fixedly at his long-time friend. "Are you telling us a campfire story or what? You're giving me the chills."

"I'm all too serious," Sherrinford said. "At least four murders, three more suspicious deaths or disappearances and several burglaries. Everything made of this ruddy-colored metal seems to be sought with great determination by someone. That's why I'm so uneasy about going to this report in North Dakota."

"What, where that rancher wrote you about the metal crate he found while excavating? He said it was the size of a steamer trunk, right?"

"Yes," Sherrinford said. "He actually called my Museum and the Director handed the assignment to me without much interest. The rancher's waiting to open it until a few experts show up. Fellow says he hopes to sell it for a good sum. I'm supposed to fly out there tomorrow."

"Don't tell me," Fletcher said. "This crate he found, is it made of the red steel?"

"That's how he describes it," Sherrinford confirmed as if delivering grim news.

( the rest of the story )