They, a recovering survivalist with limited means, halted at the border control and tasked to polish their gems for an inspection. Being smart about it they had already disposed, or digested rather the stolen ones before entry and yielded only proper fossils on their wrists. There might have been some crumbs left from the stolen ones but not enough to reveal whose they were. Fake skin bubbles in metal crusts passed by at astonishing speeds, so the border controller had shout to be heard. Not that it mattered, they knew the questions and how to answer, or deliver rather and begun the recitation.
– “All stones are of the same age”. They started.
– “All stones are of the same age, to you” the inspector replied and the noise prevent them to be heard.
– “Back way back when, when folk still dusted cow brain peels with silver and children sat in silence watching light trough them. A promise was made that a figure would appear which would lead us to a glorious death. I’m a bearer of the peels and the glues.” They handed in their documents and took a step back.
– “I’m a bearer of the peels and the glues, to you” the inspector murmured and performed the stamps.
Both were pleased that the ceremony was easy and so they continued to the line, waited for their shovel and headed to the antibiotic hills. The work was hard, as expected and shovelling took its toll. They proceeded trough the rubble and junk, passing layers of old newspapers but were wise enough not to waste time reading any. Remembering what Outi Heiskanen had told them, that text is not supposed to be read. It is meant to line the edges of the pit, so that it does not cave in.
A gem, which one night returned to them by means of interior circulation, reminded them of a happy summer night. After a glass of wine Heiskanen had asked out loud “Eero, how do you build a house?”. They remembered replying something, knowing it was irrelevant as Heiskanen knew the only answer: “You start digging… In a day or two a man comes by and they will tell you that you are not doing it right. Then quickly, challenge them, hand the shovel. Go to lunch and wait for the house to be completed. Here have a look“.
They had studied the material but doubted that they were building a house now. If they were, the shape of the construction was such that nothing imaginable could survive in it. They were not responsible for the remains they were leaving behind. They were here for the antibiotics and nothing else. The medicine was to be found in the droppings of privileged pets of the past. The beasts that had been medicated by high tier professionals of glory days. If the blue rim, surrounding the pile were to be scraped off successfully and digested, it could heal them. They were after a motherload.
In the pit of an inverted skyscraper, lined with white sheets. They kept on digging as if they had understood Heiskanen right, it would get better soon.
