The Last Adam

He looked at the numbers again. They ran in sequential order from 2 to 1354. There was no obvious pattern to them and Harley couldn't recall ever seeing them before. It looked like some sort of code. Why would Dusty use a code? He wondered. Why didn't he just tell me what this is all about? The obvious answer was that it was something his friend didn't want anyone else to know. But why? And if it's for me, why didn't he send me a message that I would understand? The only explanation was that surely it was something he should understand. The last time we spoke? Leaning back, he tried to recall again his last meeting with his friend. As he remembered, Dusty had been in good spirits. After all, he was going back to do what he loved most in the world: digging for old relics in some remote region of the world in an effort to learn more about humanity's past. Harley, on the other hand, had been much less sure about his future. He was still getting back the responses to his book, many of which were less favourable than he might have hoped. His book A sense of recognition stirred as a brief recollection sprang forth for just an instant. Dusty had been in good spirits, Harley less so. He could remember that despite feeling somewhat philosophical about it all, he hadn't wanted his disappointment to spoil his friend's excitement. Nevertheless, Lorenzo had been sympathetic and encouraging, as was his way, telling Harley that any argument that was well reasoned and logical was deserving of proper and objective consideration. He had gone on to say that it had been bold of Harley to tackle such a subject and that he shouldn't be surprised if it generated an initially immature response. 'Who knows?' Lorenzo had joked to him, 'Maybe I'll find something that will turn everything we think we know on its head!' Harley sat forward suddenly. It had been a joke, but it had also been one of the last comments Lorenzo had made to him. Without turning and with a wave of his hand, Dusty had called it out to him as he had walked away, promising to let him know the minute he found anything. Harley looked up. Could that be it? Could Dusty have found something exciting enough that some previously accepted idea in archaeology would have to be re-written? He hoped so. He didn't imagine that Lorenzo would find anything more exciting than being able to reveal that some ancient culture somewhere had invented writing before the wheel... or some such thing. But if that was the case, why all the secrecy? ...And what did the numbers mean? It still didn't make sense, he realised. There was something missing. He decided to head back to his room. He sensed he was on the right track but if he was going to solve this he was going to have to go out and get some proper coffee -that would mean venturing out into the sun and so he wanted to grab his trilby hat. Entering his room, he walked over to retrieve it from the table at the foot of his bed. As he did so, he caught sight of his laptop sitting in its case by the wardrobe. An odd thought occurred to him. He picked up the laptop and set it down on the bed, switching it on. Next he took a notepad and pen from his bedside table. The numbers in Fiorini' s message were in sequential order and they looked as if they might form some sort of code; Fiorini had made specific reference to the pair's last conversation and in that conversation the two had been discussing the response to Harley's book. As the computer finished its set-up routine, Harley sought out a draft of the first chapter. He brought it up and pulled out his Blackberry to look at the message again. The first number in the sequence was a 2. Looking back at the text, he saw the second letter of the prose was a t. He wrote the letter down. He then counted on until he got to the next number in the sequence, 16; it was an h. The third number gave him an e: THE. Harley stared at the word he had written for a moment before carrying on. The next letter was another e, then an a, an r, a t, an h, an i and an s. He placed lines to separate the words: THE EARTH IS. Harley felt his heart rate quicken as he continued to decode the message. He realised that this had to be it; it was far too much to be a coincidence for it to be anything else. As he spelt out the rest, he made the decision to call Miss Fierman back even before he reached the last letter -only Fiorini knew the contents of their last conversation, which meant the message had to be from him. His friend did indeed need help with something and he surely wouldn't be wasting Harley's time. He wrote out the last of the letters, making absolutely sure he had counted them correctly. Applying the word-breaks in the appropriate places, he read the complete message for the first time: THE EARTH IS LESS THAN FIFTEEN THOUSAND YEARS OLD Sitting alone in his hotel room, Andrew Harley blinked.