Tales Between the Lines

VI.6 - Awakening

Unfortunately, the Arch-Archaeologist's elaborate French braid won't be the real thing. Unbeknownst* to the Titanian, the fashion to grow one's own hair will have died out on Earth shortly after the the scandalous disclosure of certain long existing radiation leaks in antiquated nuclear plants back in the 21st century.

So, the Titanian's desperate pull will free the arch-archaeologist's wig of office with an audible plop and jolt her successfully awake. Both the Titanian's and the policeman's eyes will widen in utter shock, and their gazes will wander synchronously from the limp and lifeless braid to its no longer lifeless proprietor's bald head.

The bald head, unconcerned by the attention directed at it, will ignore the awakening brain activity taking place in its interior. Instead, it will shine in all its hairless splendour and gleam like a polished egg in the first beams of the morning sun.

The brain, encased in the head and not yet aware of the nude state of its exterior, will concern itself with essential questions like who am I? What am I doing here? Why does my body feel like after a prolonged sojourn in a tumbler—all dehydrated and wrung out? And, last but not least, who's that sexy man in uniform?

The Arch-Archaeologist's analytical brain will start to collect the necessary bits and shreds of information to solve these puzzles buried deep in its subconscious compartments.

In the meantime, the police officer's frown will deepen, his mind torn between the desire to arrest the whole circus and the inquisitive buzz the sight of the well-formed, shiny head in front of him will have kindled beneath his cap.

———
* Another word authors crave to use from time to time. It's magical attraction is supposed to root in the fact it offers a mean to show to the readers (and the protagonists) that the author thrives in superior knowledge.

The Arch-Archaeologist's brain will soon regain its full operating capacity, and the woman's gaze will fall upon a hairy heap sitting unhappily in the dust beside her.

The heap will look familiar.

And desolate.

She will reach for it, and it will feel like an old acquaintance.

And in need of a wash.

She'll unfold, untangle, and undust it and set it on her head.

And it will settle on its high perch with a happy, hairy sigh.

Not so the Arch-Archaeologist. There won't be much happiness about her. She'll lock eyes with the officer, who will come to realize that he's facing a government official. But not just any government official.

"Er...," he will say.

The woman will glare at him.

"Er...," he'll try again, and the basic instincts of a public service employee will kick in. "I think I have business elsewhere." With that, he'll give the woman a brief nod, turn away, and start running.*

The Arch-Archaeologist will study the awake Titanian and also those who'll still be snoring.

She won't be impressed. Well, maybe a little bit. There will be six-packs on display, and toned muscle.

Lots of toned muscle.

She'll blush and look away, pretending to have to read important stuff on the smartphone she pulls from her pocket.

To chase away the distracting images of toned muscle under hairy skin, she'll bring up the Twitter app.

There will be a flood of tweets. The images that had distracted her will dissolve.

And a frown will add topology to the wrinkles in her face.

———
* The running will take him to his regular doughnut shop, but that's another (and not so exciting) story.

The Arch-Archaeologist will dial a number and bring the phone to her ear. The phone will ring, and a man's voice will answer.

Man's voice: "Archaeologic strike force HQ, how can I help you today?"

Arch-Archaeologist: "Sam, it's me, Graziella."

Man's voice: "Oh, Arch-Gracie, how are you?"

Arch-Archaeologist: "Have you seen that bloke on Twitter? The one hollering #titaniansfirst and #fuckarchaeology? The one who's gained millions of followers overnight? The one—"

Man's voice: "Relax, woman. Everything's under control."

Arch-Archaeologist: "?"

Man's voice: "We've identified their location, and a SWABM* team has surrounded the premises. We're ready to strike. I'm heading over there right now. Where are you?"

Arch-Archaeologist: "Howard Carter Skatepark."

Man's voice: "The SWABM site is right next to you, it's Howard Carter Entertainment Village. We can meet there."

Arch-Archaeologist: "Great. Gimme five minutes. Out."

She'll pocket the phone and look at the Titanians. They'll all be awake by now, in various states of disrepair.

"You're from Titan, guys. Right?" she'll ask.

They'll nod.

"Come with me."

"Sure, Arch-Gracie," one of them will say.

A glower will hit him mid-face.

He'll swallow and lower his gaze. "At your command, your Archship."

———
* SWABM: Special Wigs and Big Muscle.