Ch.115Ch.8 – Intro (Video not opening)

# Chapter 8

‘And There Was Nothing’

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1927. 10.

Alaska

United States

“Snow when you go. Snow when you don’t.

Whether standing still. Walking. Or being dragged.

All you see is snow.”

Dr. Alejandro muttered the same words over and over.

“Snow when you go. Snow when you don’t.

Whether standing still. Walking. Or being dragged.

All you see is snow.”

Despite being well past forty and approaching fifty, he remained strong-bodied. A famous adventurer and archaeologist.

“Snow. Snow. White snow.”

He was pulling a small sled.

“Snow… snow… snow…”

With a rope over his shoulder, he dragged a small sled across the frozen snowfield, loaded with three human heads.

“Shut up.”

Beside him walked a dark-skinned man with an eye patch over his right eye.

“I said shut up, Alejandro.”

“Snow. Snow. Just snow.”

“Shut up!”

“Snow… snow…”

Alejandro’s old friend. Lifelong rival. Professor Felton was also a renowned figure in archaeological circles.

Some mockingly said he merely followed in Alejandro’s shadow. Whenever this was mentioned, Alejandro would become angry and Felton would lash out.

“Archaeology isn’t a neighborhood stroll. What lies right before you might be a worthless stone, or it might be a trace of a forgotten ancient civilization. And what determines that thin difference is simply luck. Luck! And luck always changes!”

That’s what he said, but what are enthusiasts like?

Meaningless competitions, endless rivalries. They preferred arguments for the sake of argument rather than debates aimed at reaching conclusions.

For these enthusiasts, the archaeological discovery competition between Alejandro and Felton was always a hot topic.

And enthusiasts had money. And archaeology was always an expensive discipline.

“I’m well aware of your friendship, but let’s consider this a sort of event.”

In a Washington office, the Archaeological Society president shrugged as if to say there was no choice. Among scholars, he was known as “the politician”—a metaphor for his talent in lobbying rather than research.

“One way or another, we need these stories to attract attention. Attention brings investors. And regardless of your actual relationship, you two are bound together as lifelong rivals…”

“Let’s be clear. Felton and I have different specialties and different areas of interest,” Alejandro drew the line. Felton agreed.

“Scholarship isn’t a sport. There are no rules saying we must follow the same path. It’s troubling when someone who knows this better than anyone suggests otherwise.”

“I’m not doing this just for my own benefit.”

The Archaeological Society president twitched his pale mustache.

“I’ve known both of you for over twenty years. I know you’re honorable men, both as scholars and as human beings. But Dr. Alejandro, Dr. Felton, not all archaeologists live like you do.

Some archaeologists get divorced because they only come home once every three years, some are running from creditors, and some haven’t been able to travel abroad for over twenty years despite being archaeologists.

Why? Because they have no research funds, no travel allowances. It’s truly disappointing when those who benefit most from fame can’t even do this much for their juniors. Really.”

‘It’s not about the juniors but about lining your own pockets. Do you think we’re all fools just because we only do research?’

Alejandro complained only inwardly. After all, the Archaeological Society was the organization funding his research.

“Just once. Just one public rivalry event. This one time could provide at least some research assistance to struggling junior scholars. Just do what you’ve always done. I’m not asking you to get on a ring with clubs and beat each other to death, am I?”

Unable to stand it any longer, even Felton began to argue point by point.

“No, Mr. President. Archaeology isn’t something that can be decided in an hour or two. A proper excavation can easily take 10 or 20 years. How on earth are we supposed to compete?”

Alejandro gave him a look of agreement, but the president pulled out a folder from his desk, unconcerned.

“Look at this. Northern Alaska. Captured during aerial reconnaissance.”

Each of the two senior scholars was given a folder. Alejandro frowned at the first photograph.

“Something like this exists in northern Alaska?”

Felton also furrowed his brow.

“This type of ruin is… typical. It resembles temples commonly found in central and southern America. But this…”

“This is an official request from the Navy.”

The Society president raised his chin with sparkling eyes. It was a gesture he often made during society speeches, which archaeologists usually mocked, saying, “That woodpecker is trying to score another point.”

“The Navy thought it might be some kind of secret base. They sent reconnaissance teams, but the weather was too harsh, and they failed. They tried three times, all unsuccessful. They couldn’t keep dedicating resources to it, and they judged that no human could survive in such weather, so they canceled further reconnaissance missions. Instead, they consulted us. Even the Navy has some intelligent people.”

Even ignoring the president’s remarks, the records and close-up photographs left by the Navy pilots were significant in many ways.

The building in the photos looked like some kind of temple. Rather than resembling Native American structures, it was more similar in appearance to Mayan temples of Central and South America.

“The conditions are simple. Organize an expedition within six months, go to the temple, bring back one significant artifact, and then present a hypothesis about what this ruin actually is.”

“Seriously.”

Professor Felton sighed.

“I’m asking this in all seriousness, but do competitions like this still have meaning in our time? It’s been over ten years since Scott and Amundsen raced to reach the South Pole for popularity. And it’s been almost twenty years since people reached the North Pole.”

“They do. Because the Soviets are participating.”

Alejandro and Felton’s eyes met.

“The Soviets?”

“Now you understand why the military is concerned? You’ll soon receive a communication from the Soviet side. They’ll call it pure scientific exchange, but even a freshman student would know the real reason is to assess Alaska’s true value.”

The president cackled.

“The Soviet Union is growing at a frightening pace, and behind that is investment in pure science. Gentlemen, this is a matter of patriotism. Patriotism! While the Soviet Union moves in one direction with complete unity from top to bottom, this country is rotting from the roots! They don’t care about science at all! I know what they call me. They say I’m not a scholar. I don’t care. If I can attract even one more cent of investment for archaeology, I’d dress up as a clown. I’m not a ‘scholar’ but the ‘Society President’!”

‘You already look like a clown.’

Alejandro sighed.

“Just play along, will you? It’s not a bad thing. Alaska needs to be developed eventually anyway. If archaeologists can blaze trails and discover safe passages, future generations will thank you. Just ‘go there’ and bring back ‘one brick.’ That’s all.”

Professor Felton clicked his tongue.

“Will the Society cover all expenses?”

“Professor Felton?”

A surprised Alejandro looked at Felton, but

“Professor Alejandro.”

Felton scratched his beard.

“Let’s just bring back one brick each. Literally.”

Memories scatter in the cutting wind.

During the preparation period, things went well. They appeared in the media several times, excellent volunteers flocked to them, and corporations expressed interest in investing.

It was called a competition, but in reality, it was no different from a leisurely walk where they took turns leading.

In the end, they agreed that their academic achievements wouldn’t be determined by who arrived first, but by what they discovered there.

Moreover, this wasn’t completely unknown territory. It was Alaska, officially American soil. While not fully explored, it wasn’t entirely unknown either.

‘There shouldn’t be any problems.’

There were no particular issues when they arrived at the temple in question. By then, Alejandro and Felton’s survey teams had already become quite friendly. Six men on one side. Six men on the other. Brave men all.

Eventually, the two men stepped into the temple side by side.

There was nothing.

No traces of anything having been there. No signs of anything having been placed there. Not even ritual vessels, ceremonial tools, or altars—literally an empty building.

“Looks like we really will just be taking a brick or two,” Professor Felton muttered. They wondered if looters had visited, but that seemed unlikely.

“Look. It’s a stone floor with no drag marks. Looters couldn’t be this meticulous.”

Alejandro agreed with Felton’s assessment.

“Why was a structure of this size only discovered now? And above all…”

Suspicious.

This wasn’t a building that could be constructed in a day or two. Nor was it small enough to be quickly assembled by one or two people. It measured 70 meters in length and width, with a height of 20 meters.

They had joked about taking a single brick, but the bricks here were truly worth taking. There was no ice between the brick joints. The stone seams were so solid and tight that not even water could seep through. Stone masonry so precise that not even a razor blade could fit between the stones…

If this had been in Central or South America, it wouldn’t have seemed strange.

‘What could be the reason?’

Alejandro’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden commotion. People had gathered in a room inside the pyramid, the exact purpose of which was unknown.

“What’s happening?”

A porter, pale with fear, pointed at his arm.

“A snake… a snake bit me!”

An absurd claim. A snake? In Alaska?

“That doesn’t make any—”

“It was a snake!”

The porter shouted again.

“I’m from Texas! I know a snake when I see one! Look at the wound. This is definitely from a snake!”

“Medic!”

Felton moved quickly. The Norwegian-born doctor rushed over to examine the porter’s wound.

“These are snake fang marks, all right. Let’s see… fortunately, it’s not venomous. There’s no swelling.”

“Did you see what kind of snake it was?” Felton asked in a careful tone, but the porter shook his head.

“You won’t believe me anyway.”

“Anything is fine. Tell me. Where did it appear from?”

“Over there.”

The porter pointed to a wall. It was covered with relief carvings. They all depicted snakes.

From ones trying to devour elephants to ones as small as pencils. Some had human limbs attached to snake bodies, and others showed figures that were human in form but with snake eyes and split tongues, howling.

And in the center, coiled regally on stone steps, was a snake. The snake had human breasts and male genitalia, with wings on its back. It had four pairs of human arms and two pairs of legs. Felton asked Alejandro:

“A hermaphroditic winged snake with arms and legs… could it be Quetzalcoatl?”

“I don’t think so.”

Alejandro shook his head.

“I’ve never seen this form before. While it looks similar, this relief itself… rather than American, it more closely resembles ancient Greek style. Look at the writhing muscles, the accurate human proportions… isn’t it similar to the Laocoön Group?”

“How strange.”

Professor Felton called for other porters.

“Professor, perhaps we should remove a brick or two?”

“Is that really necessary?”

Alejandro looked at the image with suspicion. Felton’s lips twitched.

The two men were different from birth. Both were from American upper-class families, but Felton grew up between Washington and New York. Alejandro followed his diplomat parents between Mexico, Switzerland, and Austria. While Felton was shut away in libraries, Alejandro followed his parents onto the plains with a shotgun.

Though their academic achievements were similar, the crucial difference between them was in their wildness. Alejandro possessed instincts and a wildness built up since childhood. Felton lacked this. Where Alejandro moved boldly forward, Felton chose the safe path, and thus never escaped the shadow of being perpetually second.

And now that very Alejandro was showing hesitation, holding back. The thought that he could be more daring than Alejandro, along with some inferiority complex about always having taken the safe path, seized Felton. With a somewhat passionate argument, Alejandro said, “Let’s do it then,” changing his mind.

However, Alejandro remembered the chill in one corner of his heart.

* * * * *

The next day. One person died. The Norwegian-born doctor.

“His throat…”

Another porter couldn’t continue speaking. The doctor’s throat had been torn out. The marks were from human teeth, but as the wound had frozen overnight and the frozen blood had swollen, it was impossible to identify the dental pattern.

“How could this happen?”

The Alejandro-Felton survey team decided to withdraw. Solo actions were prohibited unless absolutely necessary, and when needed, they would move in groups of three.

Thus, the eleven-member survey team set out for home.

The next day. One person died in the same manner. Ten remained.

The next day. The porter who had claimed to be bitten by a snake died. His body had been decaying for some time. A man from West Virginia, though not from Texas, feared that this resembled someone bitten by a venomous snake, but said such things only happened in swamplands. Nine remained.

The next day. Two men killed each other in a fight. One man claimed the other was a beast possessed by the snake’s ghost, while the other claimed his opponent was making up stories after being caught trying to bite him to death. As both men were wielding firearms, the others had to shoot them.

Now seven remained.

The next day.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

The man from West Virginia wailed.

“It’s all because of that cursed stone. The stone! That stone is driving us mad. It whispered to me all night!”

“Calm down!”

“Even now! It’s whispering even now!”

“That’s just the wind!”

“Can’t you hear the hissing of the snake that will freeze the world, flicking its tongue in the winter wind?”

A strong man rushed at him.

“Damn it, stop it!”

“Let go, you children of vipers! Let go! I knew it. I knew it from the beginning! Alejandro, Felton! May you be cursed forever! Living people – living people!”

The West Virginian swung his arm, and then—

“Aaaagh!”

The man holding him clutched his throat and collapsed. He was holding a large, sharp hunting knife used for skinning. Alejandro shot the man with his pistol.

Now five remained.

And the next day. The five survivors…

discovered the ruins.

The very same ruins they had left.

“Heh… heh… hehehehe…”

The survivors were shocked.

“Going in circles. Circles in a snowfield? That’s impossible…”

“This can’t be happening.”

Felton gasped for breath.

“Professor Alejandro. This is impossible! We walked straight. Didn’t we follow the compass?”

Alejandro was also trembling. It made no sense at all. Circular wandering sometimes happens in tropical forests or mountains. But how could this happen on a snow-covered plain when they had walked straight following a compass?

The five walked again. Strong men sobbed and wept. Some raged at the wind. It seemed as if the Alaskan wind was mocking them, mimicking their cries.

After two and a half days of walking. They returned to the ruins again.

“It’s because of you.”

The three remaining porters rushed at Alejandro and Felton.

“You drove us to our deaths.”

Alejandro fired his pistol and Felton swung a hand axe.

Felton lost one eye.

Alejandro personally beheaded the three porters with the hand axe Felton had dropped.

“Let’s go.”

Alejandro grabbed each of the porters’ heads and spoke to them.

“Let’s go home now.”

And he pulled the small sled himself. Felton cursed Alejandro, but there was nothing else he could do.

Somehow injured or infected, Felton was losing sight in his remaining eye as well.

Now only two remained.

“Snow when you go. Snow when you don’t.

Whether standing still. Walking. Or being dragged.

All you see is snow.”

Dr. Alejandro muttered the same words over and over.

“Snow when you go. Snow when you don’t.

Whether standing still. Walking. Or being dragged.

All you see is snow.”

How long had they been circling the same spot? How long had they been going round and round?

Felton laughed.

Central American ruins? A snake deity carved in Greek style discovered in Alaska?

It’s laughable. It’s impossible.

It’s all lies.

Felton wept.

“Snow… snow… snow…”

Alejandro stood stupidly, muttering the same words.

Felton couldn’t bear to hear that song anymore.

He struck Alejandro’s neck with the hand axe.

It was easier than kicking an ice pillar.

“Now I’m number one. Right?”

Felton walked.

Behind him, a legless snake slithered, making hissing sounds as it followed.

And there was nothing.

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