Chapter 1

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A 19th century BC cuneiform tablet from the city of Sippar in the region of Babylonia had been carefully laid upon an examination table awaiting its turn to be relieved of salt damage. Its dark brown clay was infused with a white mineral in evidence of the saline soil it was made from. It was a priceless treasure left behind by our Bronze Age ancestors as proof that they had created a written language. It became their gift, a seed to bolster civilization, a way to record even the most mundane happenings and now it lay upon this table awaiting desalinization: a process of preservation designed to harden its structure and give it a much-needed bath. Removing the salt would keep it from becoming too brittle to move. And this was just one in a collection of 130,000 cuneiform tablets from Mesopotamia here at the London Metropolitan Museum.

Its cousins and brothers could be found in trays placed in the stainless steel sink across the room with a steady stream of cold water washing over them.

The electric kiln, used to harden these artifacts, was leaking heat again at an alarming rate, causing the air conditioner to run at top speed. This always happens when Dr. Milton Schwab was in the middle of a firing cycle; otherwise the Desalination Lab was stifling hot and this was his home for the next ten hours.

He set a timer then turned an about face to focus on a more pressing problem than the air conditioner. A contaminate had started to appear on the surface of these artifacts and it wasn’t just one; all the Sippar cuneiform tablets were coming down with spots. It’s an epidemic, Dr. Schwab thought as he looked down at a tray of tablets he’d left air drying on the counter. He ran his fingers over the hardening crystals. H...

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...“The laundry soap?”

“Yeah, you know…Calgon. The name is derived from calcium gone, because that’s what it does.”

“That’s brilliant.” Dr. Fielder smiled.

“Yeah…Calgon, take me awayyyy!”

“DR. SCHWAB.” Larkin yelled.

“Coming. Right.” Schwab fell in behind Dr. Polley as they headed for the door.

He was still shaking. To lose his job would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him. He loved this place. He never married, never had children. His work was his home. No one, he could never allow anyone to take his job away and for what?

“Oh wait.” Schwab removed the headphones from around his neck and handed them to Dr. Fielder. “You’re gonna to need these mate.” He glanced over at the girls and then rushed out the door to catch up to Dr. Larkin.

Works Cited

Report No 1998/10, The Brittish Museum, Department of Conservation Research Group

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