"Consensus is a political term. It's meaningless when it comes to science. All that matters is verifiable results."
Miranda's eyes smoldered, like burning chunks of coal. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."
I was tempted to step in, to end the argument. But something caused me to stay out of it.
"I'm not the only one who disagrees with you," Graham said. "Bureaucrats have spent billions of dollars trying to scare people. Yet only about half of the population considers climate change to be a global threat. Why do you think that is?"
"It's a mystery." She blinked. Her eyeballs returned to normal. "Personally, I think it's a failure of leadership. Bureaucrats should make policies based on science, not opinion polls. They should reduce carbon emissions. Make people use less energy."
I arched an eyebrow. "Make them?"
"Yes, make them." Her lips turned upward into something resembling a smile. "Sometimes people don't know what's best. They need a leader, someone to show them the way."
"What if they don't want to listen?"
Her eyes glinted. "Then someone has to make them listen."
Chapter 27
"Dang it woman, why do you have to be so pigheaded?" The man's voice, masculine and brusque, sparked with energy.
"You're just angry because I'm smarter than you."
"Why you little—"
"Hey there." I cleared my throat. "I don't think we've met yet."
Beverly shot me a grateful look. For the last twenty minutes, she'd been trying to engage the Maneros in conversation. Unfortunately, they seemed more interested in arguing with each other than in talking to her.
"These are the Maneros." Beverly nodded at the couple. "They specialize in translating ancient Mesoamerican writing systems."
The woman stuck out her hand. She looked young, about the same age as Miranda. Her face was round and plump. Her eyes were large and lively. "I saw you at the last excavation, but we didn't get a chance to talk," she said. "I'm Dora Manero."
"Cy Reed."
The man offered his hand from the opposite aisle. He was bald and in his mid-forties. His limbs were long and he possessed a distinguished visage. "I'm Renau." He nodded at Dora and gave me a wink. "I'm married to that harpy over there."
Dora rolled her eyes. "You'll have to forgive my husband. He was born without a brain."
My eyes drifted to a small table situated between the Maneros. The large gold plate from the sarcophagus sat on top of it. It was nestled in a thick white cloth.
The plate measured roughly twelve inches by sixteen inches. It was two to three times as thick as a normal sheet of paper. Strange markings glinted brightly on its surface.
I leaned in for a closer look and noticed the small triangular-shaped plate that had once belonged to Wallace Hope. It was a perfect fit with the larger plate's crimped top right corner.
"So, you're the epigraphers?" I asked.
"Actually, Dora is the epigrapher," Beverly said. "She's also a linguist, specializing in ancient Mayan script. Reconstruction, translation, dating, analysis. She can do it all."
Dora's face took on a studious, somewhat solemn appearance. "Everything but interpretation. I leave that to the eggheads."
I smiled.
Beverly nodded at Renau. "He specializes in computer science and artificial intelligence. He's developed a computer system capable of deciphering ancient languages."
"Not long ago, most experts thought computers were incapable of deciphering ancient script," Renau replied. "Language requires logic, intuition. And computers are obviously limited in that regard."
"How'd you get past that problem?" I asked.
"Most languages share similarities to others. The trick is finding the right ones. Once that's done, it's a simple matter of probabilistic modeling. My program runs thousands of iterations, looking for consistent features between languages. Eventually, I'm able to map the alphabets, shared roots, and word structures of an unknown language onto a known one."
"It's a bunch of hocus-pocus," Dora said. "Computers have come a long way but they're nowhere near replacing people. Renau's little program is always getting words mixed up."
"It's not perfect," he admitted. "I haven't figured out a way to check words for context. And if a language has multiple meanings for the same word, my program will sometimes get it wrong. Still, I can decipher an ancient text much faster and far more accurately than," he tilted his head at Dora, "you know who."
"Is that right?" Her eyes flashed. "Care to bet on it?"
I cleared my throat. "Why do you need a computer program anyway? Experts deciphered the Mayan language decades ago."
"Well, our knowledge still leaves much to be desired." Dora waved her hand at the gold plate. "Also, these inscriptions haven't aged well. So, it'll take some time to gain a decent understanding of them. But that's not the real problem."
"Oh?"
Dora gripped the plate in a clean cloth and gently flipped it over.
I leaned in for a closer look and saw unusual etch marks. They were quite different from the ones on the other side. "Is this the same script?"
"No," Dora replied. "I've devoted my entire life to studying ancient Mesoamerican scripts. But I've never seen hieroglyphics like these before."
"Do you have any idea who might've written them?" Beverly asked.
"Dora's got her own ideas," Renau replied. "But we know they predate the Maya hieroglyphics. I'm thinking the etchings are a sort of Proto-Mayan script. A common ancestor, if you will, of the various written languages — Olmec, Zapotec, Epi-Olmec, Classic Mayan — that sprung up in Mesoamerica over the centuries."
I nodded. "So, the plate is like the Rosetta Stone?"
In 196 BC, ancient scribes had etched a decree from King Ptolemy V onto a granite-like rock now known as the Rosetta Stone. The decree had been written three times in three separate scripts: ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, Egyptian Demotic, and classical Greek. Since the inscriptions basically said the same thing, a series of scholars were able to use the classical Greek etchings to decipher the Demotic language and the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, respectively.
"Maybe," Dora said. "Or maybe not. Remember, Xbalanque was tasked with recording knowledge for the library. So, it stands to reason he wrote original work rather than merely recopy that of some other civilization. Regardless, it could take years to fully understand how this new language works."
It was interesting, but not particularly useful. We wouldn't be able to read the language until long after we'd excavated the library.
Dora seemed to read my mind. "Obviously, we're not spending too much time on this. Not yet anyway. Still, it does have interesting ramifications."
"Like what?" Beverly asked.
"We know the library was etched on gold plates. Most likely, those plates — like this one — predate the Mayas. But where'd Xbalanque get them from?"
Beverly shrugged.
"We think it's possible he got them from the same place where the library is now stored. So, maybe the Mayas weren't the first society to occupy that spot." She paused. "Maybe someone else beat them to it."
Chapter 28
"So, what was it like growing up in the jungle?"
Renau glanced past me. "How'd you know about that?"
"Miranda told me." Graham hobbled over to join us. "Just a few minutes before she threatened to throw me out the cabin door."
Renau chuckled. "You disagreed with her on climate change, didn't you?"
Graham nodded.
"I'm not surprised. She's a wonderful person. But when it comes to that subject, she takes no prisoners." Renau paused. "To answer your question, I loved growing up in the jungle."