Night At The Park (Ahkmenrah X Tim Murphy)

Chapter One: Excavation

The blinding desert heat bore down on Tim's neck. His t-shirt and shorts stuck to his sweaty skin as he bent over a worktable, studying the old ring that had been found by Crowe the day prior.

He'd been working at this excavation site with his mentor and a few other excavation workers for almost a month now, and until today, they'd come up dry. But finally, after canvassing Egypt's Western Desert day after day and getting a wicked sunburn, Tim finally felt as if his internship was worth it. He stared in awe as the ring caught the blazing sunlight.

His amazement was ruined, however, when the rough voice of his mentor, Jeremy Crowe, sliced through the air. His almost comical southern accent disturbed the quiet of the afternoon.

"Put that down, Murphy!" he barked, slapping the ring out of Tim's hand sharply. "This artifact is priceless! It could well be the key to findin' a tomb nearby, and that could get me some great archeological advancements."

And it will make me filthy rich was left unsaid, thought Tim bitterly. But he quietly obeyed, masking his disappointment as he stepped back from the worktable and allowed Crowe to pour over the ring, a greedy glint in his eye. Crowe whistled.

"Look at this fine-ass hunk of metal," he chuckled, grabbing a nearby magnifying glass to take a closer look. "Don't you think so, boy?"

Crowe's gray eyes slid to his. If Tim had to guess, he would assume that they were blue, as they looked about the right shade. But of course, this was how he'd learned everything to do with color: he guessed and checked.

People had been telling him all his life about colors, how it was possible to see things in shades other than dull gray. At first, the concept amazed him. A whole world of variety at his fingertips and all he needed was his soulmate by his side! When his grandpa had first told him about it, Tim had immediately rushed to the SAD to check his status. He all but kicked his sister Lex off of their home computer in his excitement. Entering his social security number, birth date, and a boatload of other information, he scrolled to the bottom of the page to find his soulmate's name:

Unknown.

At first, he held onto the hope that his soulmate might not have been born yet. After all, he was only five at the time. However, as years passed, that hope died. Now, at eighteen years old, he had resigned himself to a colorless and, more importantly, loveless fate. He was about to enter his fourth and final year of high school. This dig, along with his numerous other extracurricular activities, would be more than enough to get him into a college of his choosing. He would get his degree and settle down alone in some old apartment far, far away from Chicago and live a peaceful life, but in the back of his mind, he would always know that he was unloveable.

Around the age of eleven, Tim went through a conspiracy phase, where he theorized that the SAD had messed up his results. Maybe they'd gotten his mixed up with another's or possibly they lost his vial of blood altogether. But deep down, he knew the SAD never made mistakes. It was too well-organized.

The SAD, otherwise known as the Soul Attraction Database, was a collection of data that housed a sample of everyone's blood. Governments all across the world had come together to test each carefully-labeled vial against all other blood samples. Then, qualified officials watched for sparks, signaling that the people were soulmates.

The process was heavily documented and more complex than many people realized. Tim only knew because his father worked at the Chicago base.

He winced. No, don't think of him. Archeology, the ring, colors.

Tim snapped back to reality, fixing his eyes on the glinting ring. He had a game he liked to play where he'd try to guess the color of the object in front of him. He reckoned that the ring was golden. It wasn't just the shade or his knowledge of ancient jewelry (colors have gone in and out of style over the century, but gold has always been the latest fashion). The metal had a certain look to it, and the mere sensation of holding made him feel regal, like an Egyptian Pharaoh.