Artificial

The task was to write a story based on this one word/theme for the February 9 meeting.

The track thumped its way down, stopping sharply where a ledge made a vantage point overlooking a gentle escarpment. Bill ratcheted on the brake, turned off the engine and slid from behind the wheel to drink in the familiar view. Below, a little river cut a dotted glint between the trees and there, just to the left was his retreat. A little sliver of cream sand caught the eye and highlighted a gentle bend. Bill’s smile, if anyone was around, would have made his dentist proud. He gathered his camping kit from the car and as quick as he could he headed off on the 3 mile downhill hike to set up his home of the next few weeks.

Steve banked off the X9 flyway, landed and un-docked his propulsion unit. The geosite was as he had left it. The g-tag indicated there had been no activity here since his discovery. Not surprising really, there was no reason for anyone to divert to this eroded old cliff face. His trained eye could spot immediately the faint traces of the ancient transport relic. It was evidenced by a dim metal stain to the rocks and some decayed thermoplastic fragments. His mission today was to fully report the site, determine the history and wrap it to record. Unhooking and aiming his sonic trowel it immediately detected platinum trace. Fantastic. That should put this find smack into the 30 year time line of his thesis.

The three miles had seemed much longer to Bill this time but to be fair his fitness was not what it was. Smashing a hip always was going to be the risk in motocross racing. The hip replacement had stopped most of his action-man pursuits and even this annual escape had had to wait. It had also meant the trip had now slipped into late summer with the added risk of flooding and, this late in the season, the wildlife would be protecting territories and looking to feed their young.
Late summer, always a time for added caution. 
Such thoughts were not top of his consciousness by the end of this first day as he fell back onto his bedding.  He looked out past the campfire and watched the sun fade to a red glimmer on the surface of the river. The meal of fresh fish and forest greens had been a great reward for little effort. It was no wonder to Bill why he returned here every year, the absolute solitude, complete peace, no phone network, plenty of food, water and birdsong. Paradise.

Archeology tools had improved a lot but Steve was still required to set out, document and excavate with the same tedium his predecessors had perfected. He scanned a laser grid of the entire site, imaged and morphed the terrain and then began the gradual removal of stratum, cataloging every find. It was only a small site but Steve had allowed himself three days to resolve the mystery. One lone transport relic, in total isolation.  It was a wonder to Steve why anyone would choose to come here. The cliff face was the edge of a barren landscape overlooking a desolate sea. He did realise that at the time of the event the geology may well have been a bit different but even back then it would have been very remote, unpopulated and many days travel from the nearest infrastructure.

As the peaceful days glided past Bill reverted slowly to the nature he was living in. There were times he thought of never returning to civilization and just staying here subsisting on natures’ bounty.
The temptation is strong, he humored himself.
Reality however is the great leveler and he knew he was always going to be dependent on his blasted medications. They would be the only reason he would have to plan his return up that 3 mile track and back into community. But that trip was a month and three days away by his pill count. He let out a sigh for the inevitable but all in all he would much rather be feeling well and able to be out here  than to be clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Coronary medicine was a modern wonder he was happy to be a beneficiary of.

Steve’s excavations proceeded as planned. It was clear this was a vehicle which was intact and not looted or deformed as so many of these sites turned out to be. The symmetry indicated the relic was most likely abandoned rather than smashed. The thermoplastic load, the interior trim, was contained wholly within the perimeter of corrosion. This was about as much as Steve could glean from the central part of the site as time and technology were not good partners. The platinum had tested as the catalyst component Steve had hoped it was. Organic fuel catalysts were only used for a period of about 40 years so the time line was almost minute perfect. Steve decided that tomorrow he would extend his survey grid and excavate to one meter around the vehicle. See if there were any associated artifacts and then call it a wrap. He had today also determined the vehicle was of an agricultural type, concentrated metal trace at both ends indicated that solid mechanicals probably provided propulsion from each corner of the relic.

Morning was glorious. A light rain had passed over the campsite without waking Bill and his rain trap had harvested an abundant supply of drinking water. Great. Nothing like a big cuppa first thing. Bill cast around looking to see if there was any dry tinder nearby that would accept a flame. The rain had been more intense than Bill had hoped and he had to wander into the scrub a little further than normal in search of dry twigs.
The bite was immediately painful and deep into the middle of his index finger. Two clear puncture marks indicated an unseen snake of a decent size. Bill knew this was not good news, he spat on the wound, wiped off the venom around it, grabbed his wrist and held it aloft to limit circulation. Panic was not what he needed but he could not stop himself imagining the toxins seeping into his system. Stay calm. Three miles. Uphill. The 2 way radio is in the Land Rover. Calm. Keep calm. He got back to camp, washed the wound and bound his arm tightly from the bicep down to the bite.  The pain around the bite now was intense.
Water. He’d need the water.
Keys where were the fucking keys?
Right. Calm, walk swiftly.

The pulse was now pounding in Steve’s head. He was getting delirious with excitement. It had to be a human jaw bone. Found almost in the first area he had extended his grid into. It was immediately next to the corrosion perimeter, right where that curious angled line of corrosion was. Steve thought that it was an opening, probably the main entry portal to the vehicle. His call went out immediately. It was a matter of minutes and Steve’s colleagues were on site and all working feverishly at unearthing and recording the remaining grid one meter around the corrosion perimeter. But just one humanoid found.
The jawbone had fallen to dust immediately it was disturbed but the morphing program had recorded and reported its structure. A thirty five year-old male, Caucasian/Mongoloid  mix with homo-sapien and neandertal genetic links. So just a common male type of the era. With the identity solved as good as it could be, Steve collated the three indestructible pieces of evidence, the dental caps, the artery stent, the titanium hip joint.
As his professor had drummed into him, find the artifice, find the date.  Steve had no doubts now, the report he addend-ed to his thesis stated,   "The presumption of events prior to demise of this 34 year old male have been derived from the evidence that the individual had suffered from a chronic decaying physiology, there was evidence of long term poor health and it was further presumed the individual had most likely traveled as far from his civilization that his agricultural vehicle could reach.  At the point of the vehicles failure he exited the conveyance to end his pain filled days. Evidentiary substance sampling and chemical analysis of remains would indicate cause of death as being self administered organic poison."
Steve snapped shut his pad, re-docked and programmed his re-entry onto the X9 flyway and home.

The pulse was now pounding in Bill’s head. He was getting delirious from the toxins. He had made it back to the vehicle, he was conscious, not clear-headed but happy to be here. The world had worked for him again, it was far too wonderful a place to leave and he never had any intention of doing so. Bill used the key to unlock the door, reach across to the radio. The battery was dead. Calm. There is an EPIRB in the center console.
Another wave of nausea and searing chest pain made him coil and fall to the ground again. Stay Calm. He lay there in the shadow of the car door, waiting for the agonies and the spasms to ease off again, just this one more time.

They didn’t.

(epirb: Emergency Position-Indicating Radio Beacons)