Anthropologist

I saw a picture of some ruins in Greece and this short little bit grew from that picture.

The landscape shimmered in the heat of the late afternoon. The ruins of a once formidable city sat atop the gentle rise behind him. He sat on a broken pillar, knees drawn up and cradled in his arms. His floppy hat shaded his eyes from the sun which was sinking toward the horizon. Despite the foliage which had taken over the ruins the land seemed dead or dormant. No breeze disturbed the foliage. Birds did not call to each other in the dense woods which surrounded the ruins. Insects did not crawl, buzz or chirp in the secret shade created by the dense growth.

He sighed. Traveling among worlds was getting old. He had been traveling for so many years he hardly knew anyone that could remember back as far as he could. Even some of his exploits were legendary among the younger travelers.

His name was Dunia Bepergian. It was not his birth name. That name was discarded long ago when he became a Multiverse Anthropologist. He and a friend joined Adventravia, a private company with government funding, which touted multiverse travel. His friend Faro Duncan, became a Multiverse Enforcer. Basically his job was to see that the travelers followed protocol, and protect them as they ventured unknown realms.

All the Faro’s had to withstand rigorous physical training and then a complicated course on technology associated with their jobs, before they were allowed to become multiverse travelers.

All Adventravia recruits went through basic testing and training. As old as he was Bepergian never forgot his initial recruitment and the training he went through. Many in his class washed out. There were no second chances either. Adventravias credo included a simple passage, “You only get one chance at life. If you are unwilling to make the most of it, you will not fulfill your life’s journey.”

Bepergian took that to heart and excelled in his training. In time he became the leading multiverse anthropologist adventravia had.

Now, after thirty or more years, he sat on this dead looking world in the ruins of some ancient city, wondering if there was more to life. His Faro was off somewhere securing the perimeter of his “site”, so that the Dunia could begin his research.

Bepergian, closed his eyes to the scenery. He had seen many worlds that looked like this one. He felt he could do his investigation from his perch on the broken pillar with his eyes closed. The soil looked dead. The foliage looked dead. The ruins were certainly dead. He sighed. The sun had but moments before it sank below the horizon. Bepergian was ready to go home. He wondered if home was still there or if it too sat in ruins like this city.