SSC '04 [Adult]
500 words

The Archeologists
By Rhosymedre

One of this term's assistants chugged up to the chief
archeologist's table under the awning, flushed and excited.
"Please come. You have to see this."

Hustling the stooped little chief into a waiting vehicle with
a driver, the assistant gabbled: "During my assignment here,
I have toured hundreds of dwellings in this quadrant. The
floor plans and the furnishings and decorations still in
place are nearly as uniform and unimaginative as the
structures' outside remains. But in sunrise side #1467 --
right here on the map -- well, I, it, you --"

The wizened chief cackled at the second-year student's
stumbling. "We are here, Hein. Just show me, yes?"

Their transportation braked alongside a rather rickety
structure. Like its closely-packed neighbors, this one was
overgrown by many species of camouflaging vines, wildflower
bushes, and ancient trees rooting at frangible foundations.
Their research, supplemented by "PC" downloads, showed these
silent hulls once housed single families.

The eager assistant ducked into the musty interior, urging
the chief along. Barely giving the ground floor a glance, the
student beelined, cautiously, down into the basement. Most
structures with basements were not as well preserved (by far)
as this one. Clearly, the occupants here had reinforced this
subterranean room with extra thick walls. Descending, the
chief archeologist wondered fleetingly whether Hein had
discovered a bomb shelter. Some of those had been reported at
other domestic building cluster "digs."

But the older archeologist immediately understood the space's
dedicated use upon entering. Mastering rising excitement
detrimental to professional detachment, the chief merely
noted, "This was once a soundproof room, Hein."

Hein grunted acknowledgement, dodging the frame of a bed, a
straight-backed chair, a padded quadrangle they knew from
examining cultural records had been used to give massages, a
pommel with straps, and some metal bars that hung from the
cement ceiling. These certainly fascinated Hein, but the
peculiar glass case along the wall came first.

"Look here!" the assistant's voice cracked with emotion.
"Scores of epidermal flagellators! Look at this collection of
kalisters -- what *they* called 'whips, quirts, crops, canes,
switches...'"

The chief squinted at the impressive, if dusty, collection.
"Quite a discovery, Hein --"

"DAAL! It is such a connection! Even though the humans were
physically so different from us -- they were carbon-based and
only grew one pair of 'hands' -- they, some of them anyway,
shared with our sentients an unabashed desire to feel the
lash or the rod. What a beautiful seam between our species!"

"It is a treasure trove, Hein. Not unique though since I
have read of other stashes like this. But your youthful
enthusiasm is understandable." Daal crinkled its slits in
unison within its protective suit and affectionately rasped
Hein with its forepads. "if it were not essential to preserve
them untouched for off-planet study and exhibit, we could try
this really whippy one..."

They cackled together happily. "Excavation LoomaSi" had
yielded a wonderful find, turning both oollas of science into
the likes of impatient children on gift-giving day.