What I have decided to call The Midden, the biggest accelerant to our Settling, was discovered when several of the brasher kits grew bored with the vanishing mystique of the Ruins and roamed the immediate area in search of treasure and adventure. Frolicking under another web of morning glory and a similar vine appropriately known as “Virginia creeper”, they came across an immense discovery that they tried to keep secret but couldn’t resist flaunting their sudden new wealth. Thus the location was bullied out of them by Greater Than, who threw his new brass doorbolt baton at the fleeing Question and Bracket, bringing them down to snivel piteously over bruised calves and knees. When he held them up by their tails, bringing more wails of pain, and spun them around, they revealed the source of the metal they were sporting. Subsequent investigation revealed that the kits had struck treasure for real, that would greatly enrich the lives of all.
As often happens with seminal discoveries, we were initially at a loss as to what to make of it. The artifacts the kits reluctantly surrendered were so fascinating, and Ampersand’s early reports so ambiguous I visited this second site in what I was now thinking of as the “ruins complex” much sooner, witnessing the energetic removal of the concealing vines. What emerged was much more enigmatic than the initial Ruin, located several hundred paces distant and slightly uphill from this new, sprawling chaos. An enormous field came to light, heaped with cultural artifacts embedded in a decayed organic mass. It seemed totally unorganized, yet at times would seem to suggest a certain logic of symmetry in the way objects were placed and grouped. The initial survey was really quite maddening.
But of one thing there was no question at all: we had stumbled onto a massive repository of alien things. Including many deposits of metal. After the first look and several days of examination and discussion Ampersand, Point, and myself agreed that it was some sort of storage area. But there were contradictory signs: many of the objects were unquestionably broken. Others seemed useless for any imaginable purpose. And why were all these potentially valuable items buried in such a mass of vegetable and perhaps even animal matter? I made the provisionary assumption that they had been inside a structure of some kind, which had collapsed and decayed like the tree trunks that had once sheltered the first Ruin. My opinion was to change several times as we extricated things from the burnt ooze and encrustation.
The kits’ first find had been immediate. They had noticed that a large dirt mound at the edges of the sprawl of vine was textured and promptly started investigating it through their usual process of destruction. It turned out to be a large tent made of rotting fiber or fabric and filled with hundreds of peculiar metal disks. They had a wide variety of fading colors, but all were totally identical. My first insight from the Midden was that the aliens in question had mass manufacturing capacity.
Each disk was about as big around as my face and formed with a deep, corrugated rim. Some were bent, a few almost in half, but that was obviously not part of their design. Almost every one of them had a pad or lining inside, adhering to the flat portion, but not the brim. Most of these had decayed, but some were intact and I found their composition to be remarkable. They were tough, but yielding, almost like cartilage but softer. They were of a tan material that almost seemed like an aggregate of some sort. I marveled at the material scientifically, but At was more impressed at a practical level. “I can think of so many uses for this,” he told me while standing on the site handling one of the disks respectfully. Seals, padding; it’s remarkable stuff.”
I gathered a wide sample to examine and attempt to decipher the designs on the outsides if the little plates. A scant few had graphic designs: a white pentangle on black background, red concentric rings, a large red dot. One was black with a white figure that could only have represented a staring skull over two crossed thigh bones. Much was made of that, but I took it as a clue to the physiology of the makers of the disks. Though it could as easily have represented the demise of some other species.
Most had arrangements of figures I assumed were language glyphs, some quite wonderfully stylized. I had a moment of scholarly skill when Paren, who had found the doorbolt and was the only one to examine it before it was seized by Greater Than, assured me that she recognized a triple glyph configuration that was painted on some of the disks as well as engraved into the bolt. I was to see the same series of symbols many times before learning that USA is the name of the political entity in which we had Arrived. Now that I can interpret the various logos I realize, of course, that they are not words, but merely names that mean nothing: Nehi, Pepsi, Coors, Miller. But at the time they seemed only bright, savage designs with a certain curved, fluid grace not seen in our own scratchy script.
We had learned of the Midden because the kits had taken to wearing the caps as helmets. And, predictably, Greater Than took one look at the mound of formed metal tumbling out of the torn burlap and declared them military properties. There was scoffing around the edges of the group at that, but it was Tilde who addressed the issue in her usual matter of fact manner. “They’ll be perfect for eating meals,” she said with the solid ring of the obvious. “One for each one of us. No, better yet, two for each. Take them, clean them up, keep them for your dinner plates.”
There was enthusiasm for that, since we’d been eating off leaves and chips of bark. And more cheer when Backlash, turning a Seven Up cap in her hands, said, “I could make pies in this, I think.”
We are all fond of pie of all kinds and the acorn meat could certainly be made into a tasty dish. Not to mention that Minus and Pound had recently discovered a patch of wild strawberries, which would be perfect pie filling.
The situation had reached the resolution that was becoming common, Greater Than’s dictates tacitly modified when they were obviously stupid, even to him. But Dollar, always looking for a cheap score against the warder, sneered. “Unless there’s some military use for pieplates that we civilians aren’t aware of?”
Greater Than turned to him with the stolid face he showed to such japing and said, “They could be made into helmets. Laced together for armor. Attached to dwellings as protection.”
At, buried deep in the vines, popped his head up and gave a nasty laugh. “Protection? What is it you’re always so afraid of?”
That hint of timidity went beyond the usual chiding of Greater Than and we all looked to see how he would react. But he just rolled out more of his Trinchan koans, “If you know what to fear, there is no reason for fear. That not known is more fearful and you can’t know when it will arrive.”
There was general laughter at that, as everybody moved to select their future supper dishes. But I have to say that his words proved very prophetic for us. Not that his preparations helped us make those future advents less fearful or tragic.