A Fistful of Fig Newtons (22 page)

With a sense of scientific history being made, the cabinet, after being suitably measured and photographed, was carefully opened. The interior revealed row upon row of reels wound with a sort of film. The lowermost compartment contained, in absolutely perfectly preserved condition, a device that was obviously to be used in conjunction with the mysterious reels. The party was jubilant, but even in their joy they had little appreciation as yet of their stupendous find.

Months later, in the laboratory, all the work and disappointment paid off. A new, startling vision of this ancient extinct civilization burst upon the scholars and scientists like a thunderbolt. For months there had been intensive research into the connection between the mysterious machine and the reels, and at long last, through a series of keen deductions, it had been found that the device had been used to project images from the reels so that they could be viewed. A carefully selected group of high-level personages had assembled for the first viewing of some of the reels. The lights were dimmed. There was absolute silence as each observer waited for a true vision of the past. Then there came a whirring sound from the rear of the room. Ancient symbols flashed on the screen: X-X-X-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.

And then it happened. A spectacular scene so stupefying in its
effect as to boggle the mind blazed forth before them. A dozen figures dressed in colorful, crisp uniforms danced and cavorted wildly, their teeth flashing, their footwork remarkable. High above them, gleaming in the brilliant sunlight, were two Olympian golden arches. As they danced, their rhythmic chant, pulsing with primitive vigor and abandon, boomed deafeningly:

The scene quickly changed and a manic, wild crowd of natives, who appeared to be arranged in family groupings of various colors, their teeth sparkling, eyeballs rolling, consumed vast quantities of mysterious round, spongy objects. The dancers in their uniforms reappeared, intoning: “We do it all for yoo hoo hoo!” The family members, many of whom appeared to be immature, or possibly a subspecies, grew more agitated as they ate voraciously. The arches suddenly reappeared, then darkness.

The observers sat in stunned silence. Then pandemonium broke loose. The leading scholar of them all lurched upright. His voice shaking with emotion, he blurted, “Nothing we have studied even hinted at what they were really like! None of their famous authors or artists even suggested anything like this!” He sat shaking with emotion, unable to speak further.

“More! More!” they shouted. No longer was this a solemn gathering of minds.

“More! More!”

Again the machine whirred in the darkness. The numbers came and went. Another horde of celebrants appeared, if anything even more manic and wildly contorting than the previous tribe. They seemed to be at the seaside, on a sandy beach, dressed in outlandish pagan costumes of staggering immodesty. They leaped about madly, striking balls with extreme childish delight. Again a deafening chorus intoned another chant:

A sudden close-up of one crazed native caught him frantically sucking at some sort of small urn, or container. His frenzy increased as he was joined by a female, also sucking a similar container.

The sea crashed noisily as the scene ended.

One of the scholars hissed in the stunned silence, “Is it possible that it was a whole damn civilization that worshiped food?”

Another voice cut in: “Don’t jump to conclusions. We haven’t even scratched the surface.”

A third: “I wonder what Pep-see was.”

A fourth: “What about those arches? Now, that’s significant.”

The leader spoke: “Easy now, let’s not get excited. The only thing sure is that these things they call ‘commercials’ are far more important than anything else they ever did. By the way, I agree with you about the arches.”

Another voice, choked with emotion: “Those dancers were young females. Maybe a variation on the old Vestal Virgins cult. This is incredible! I can’t stand it!”

The leader cut in hastily: “Settle down, all of you. Let’s not go off the deep end. One thing is obvious, to me at least. Every theory we’ve ever held about this curious civilization is now under question. Let’s bring a semblance of order to this meeting. First off, I’m going to assign you and, yes, you too”–he indicated two of the more solemn scholars—“to come up with some kind of theory, or a rational explanation, if possible, of what the word
commercial
meant. What were they trying to do? Perhaps these were recorded messages directed at us.”

The two scholars nodded solemnly as they began taking notes.

“And you, over there. Your assignment is to decipher BBD and O. Was it, perhaps, a religious order? It’ll be a tough one to crack, but it may be the key. While you’re at it, if any of you have any
ideas about this ‘Tee-Vee’ business, I want them in writing. That phrase, as you know, has appeared over and over in other digs.”

“Sir?” a youngish, eager-looking scholar interjected.

“Yes?”

“Respectfully, sir, a monograph was recently published by Sponlak Seven in which he suggested that for the purposes of scholarship we apply the official designation of the Tee-Vee Culture to this tribe. Do you—”

The leader interrupted, “Yes, yes I read it, of course. He may be right, but those golden arches may change things. We’ll just have to wait and see. All right, have you got that next spool ready?”

A voice from the darkness at the rear of the room mumbled, “I think so. This crazy machine is a bugger to work.”

The leader cut him off. “Let’s be tolerant. Remember, we’re dealing with a people of very minimal technical skills.”

The lights dimmed, the machine whirred, the mystic symbols marched again across the screen, followed by a brief second or two of blackness. Then the screen was filled with a great mass of silvery, gleaming metal, some sort of massive grille. The scene widened to show a large, gaudily painted wheeled machine covered with strips of silvery material. Again a native family group cavorted around it, their eyes gleaming with emotion. The dominant male ran his hands lovingly over the machine as a chorus chanted:

A large, furry animal leaped about, making guttural barking noises. Smaller natives, apparently the young, opened and closed metal hatches, emitting squeals that possibly denoted pleasure.

The voice boomed, the chorus chanted:

as the little band of ancients entered the machine, finally joined by the mysterious fuzzy animal, still busily issuing its ugly barking sounds. The dominant male, now strapped in the machine, appeared to be holding some kind of large hoop, attached to it, in his hands.

The screen went dark.

The lights came up in the room to show a very pensive group of researchers. Someone in the rear finally broke the silence:

“Well, no arches in that one, that’s for sure.”

Another voice picked up the theme: “It’s that furry thing that scares me. Do any of you know what language it was speaking?”

A third asked, “That machine? What savage use of colors! They certainly weren’t inhibited. I’m very impressed by their childlike exuberance, and—”

“Just wait a minute,” the leader broke in. “That machine, as you call it, has appeared often in what fragmentary images have survived from that time. I frankly believe it wasn’t a machine at all but a habitation of some sort. They apparently lived in those.”

“Uh … sir?” the young scholar timidly asked. “Is it possible, sir, that Chev-vee, or its variation Chev-ro-lay, was the name they gave to one of their benevolent gods? In what we have just seen, he appears to have given them something, for which they are grateful.”

“That’s the trouble with you radicals,” the leader said, “always jumping on every bandwagon that comes around. That’s an interesting thought, and I don’t want to inhibit you, but they also had other quasi gods. Don’t forget, we’re dealing with a highly superstitious culture.”

He glanced around expectantly, encouraging discussion.

“What were those hatches and that furry thing? Is it possible that he was their leader? Perhaps they were enslaved by—”

The leader imperiously motioned for silence. “Save all this for later, when we get down to specifics.”

He stood, facing the team. “I want none of this released. You hear me? Do not speak to anyone outside this room about anything you have seen. As you no doubt already suspect from what little we have examined today, there will be enormous repercussions. The religious questions alone are staggering. Reputations built over a lifetime of study and toil will, I repeat, will come crashing down.”

He glanced meaningfully around the room. They sat silently, and yet it was obvious that they were seething with excitement. From somewhere a hoarse whisper: “Apple pie … apple pie. My God, do you know what that could mean?”

Several nodded pensively. The leader gestured again for silence.

“There, see what I mean? Let’s just try to remember that we are scientists.”

Refreshments were brought in. Little groups of excited researchers gathered in corners, discussing the incredible visions they had just watched. One, who had said little up to now, spoke to his comrades.

“I never thought I’d live to see anything like this. It’s as if we were privileged to watch the Romans in their daily lives, or the barbaric Huns at play. I tell you, this is a turning point, a …”

“Shhhh,” his friend hissed, “back to work.”

They took their seats as the leader returned to the room, his face grave, yet with a hint about him of tightly controlled elation. After the group had quieted down, he spoke.

“I have been in communication with the Supreme Foundationman. Naturally, I did not go into details, because of the sensitive nature of some of the things we have witnessed today.” A sly smile creased his face. “I don’t have to tell you what this will mean for next year’s funds.”

There were a few muffled cheers from the rear. The leader continued: “As you know, you were carefully selected from among the world’s experts for your specific knowledge of the dead language we are hearing today for the first time spoken by
those who actually used it. We are a chosen few. Before we continue viewing, are there any questions?”

A hand was raised.

“Yes?”

“Ah … it’s not exactly a question, sir. But as you know, some time back I published a monograph on the symbol ‘Y & R,’ which I proved conclusively stood for the words
young
and
rubicam
, and—”

The leader cut in: “What’s your point?”

The speaker continued nervously: “Well, sir, we know the word
young
means ‘an immature state,’ but
rubicam
has been more difficult. I believe it is a misspelling of a legendary river, which was also called Rubi-con. Perhaps, using my methodology applied to ‘B B D & O,’ I could conceivably—”

The leader interrupted again. “Are you suggesting that there might be a connection between Y & R and these B B D & O symbols?”

“Er … just possibly, sir. I note that bits of material bearing the Y & R symbol were found in the vicinity of this recent dig. There might just possibly be some parallels. And …”

The leader motioned for silence. He appeared deep in thought for a moment. “Hmmm. Possibly. Just possibly. But these people seem to have had hundreds of cults bearing indecipherable, symbolic names. We know of NCR, RCA, TRW, NBC, and who knows how many others? I’ll leave that sort of study to the dusty ones who spend their lives working puzzles leading nowhere. But never let it be said that I stood in the way of research. So if you want to play around with the idea, go ahead. It’s an interesting thought. Anyone else?”

No one volunteered.

“Well, then, let’s push on.”

The lights dimmed. They leaned forward, some scarcely breathing. Whirrr. Clackety-clack-clack. A muffled curse from the rear of the room. The leader’s voice boomed out: “What’s the trouble?”

“I’m sorry,” the voice replied, laced with exasperation. “This thing got all unwound from the spool and is tangled up …”

The lights came back up. More muffled swearing. The leader stared at the ceiling, feigning great boredom. A few laughed. Most were afraid to.

“Sir, I think I’ve got it. Those old-timers must have had some trouble with this dumb monster.”

Whirr. Darkness fell: 5-4-3-2-1-BEEP.

Seven multicolored furred and bewhiskered tiny monsters danced on the screen.

A large, lumpy female appeared, dancing in unison with one of the furry creatures. Together, they sang:

Excited shouts and muffled screams echoed throughout the room. The leader leaped to his feet. “Turn that thing off!”

The leader faced the rear and bellowed, “Are you sure you have that thing hooked up right? This is incredible!”

“Yes, sir. I can’t help what—”

The leader barked an order. “Put that one aside for special study.”

The room bristled with excitement. The leader asked what was obviously a rhetorical question.

“Now what in the world was that!”

The eager young scholar piped, “That creature was what they
called a cat. The ancient Egyptians had them, too. In fact, they worshiped them.”

The leader, lost in thought, muttered, “Meow. Does anyone here know the meaning of that? Mee-yow.”

There was no reply.

“Hmmm. We may have to rethink some of our theories on their language. There’s a lot we don’t know. It’s obvious.”