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hair and freckled face of Paul Easton, one of several marine geologists at work on the reclamation project.
Asher swiveled in his chair, leaned over, opened the door. Paul! Good to see you.
Easton stepped in, closed the door behind him. I hope Im not catching you at a bad time, sir.
How often do I have to tell you, Paul? My names Howard. Here at the Facility, were on a first-name basis. Just dont tell Admiral Spartan I said so. And Asher chuckled at his little joke.
Easton, however, did not laugh.
Asher regarded him carefully. Normally, Easton was a puckish fellow, fond of practical jokes and very dirty limericks. Today, however, he was frowning, and his youthful features looked somber. More than that: Easton looked worried.
Asher waved a hand at the lone empty chair. Sit down, Paul, and tell me whats on your mind.
Although Easton sat down immediately, he did not speak. Instead, he raised a hand to his forearm and began rubbing it gently.
Is something wrong, son? Asher asked.
I dont know, Easton said. Maybe.
He was still rubbing his arm. Some people, Asher knew, had minor skin reactions from the RFID chip implantation process.
Its the vulcanism, Easton said abruptly.
The vulcanism.
At the burial site. Ive been working with several samples of basalt from the sea floor, trying to get a firm date for when the burial event occurred.
Asher nodded in encouragement.
You know how it is. Easton seemed to grow flustered, or maybe defensive. Because the undersea currents in this region are so strong, the sedimentation of the ocean floor is all messed up.
Is that the technical term for it? Asher said, trying to lighten the tone.
Easton didnt notice. Theres no layering, no stratification. Core sampling is virtually useless. And you cant get any kind of clear dating from visual examination, either. There isnt the kind of weathering or erosion youd find on land. So Ive been trying to date the basalt formation by cross-comparison with known samples in our geological database. But I couldnt get any definitive match. So then I decided to date the sample from the decay of radioactive isotopes within the basalt.
Go on, Asher said.
Well. Easton seemed to grow even more nervous. You know how weve always put a rough estimate on when the burial event took place. Its just that He faltered, started again. I made the same assumption in my tests. I never checked for magnetic field reversal.
Now Asher realized why Easton seemed so flustered. The man had made the one mistake a scientist should never make: hed made an assumption, and as a result skipped a basic test. Something inside Asher relaxed.
Time to play the frowning paterfamilias. Im glad you told me, Paul. Its always embarrassing when we realize we havent followed the scientific method. And the dumber the mistake, the dumber we feel. The good news here is that no vital work was compromised as a result. So my advice to you? Feel bad, but dont feel broken.
The worried look had not left Eastons face. No, Dr. Asher, you dont understand. You see, just today, I performed that test, measured the magnetism. And there was no magnetic reversal in the sample.
Abruptly, Asher sat up in his chair. Then he settled back slowly, trying to keep surprise from blossoming over his face. What did you say?
The samples. Theres no evidence of magnetic reversal.
Are you sure the orientation of the samples was correct?
Absolutely.
And you made sure there was no anomaly? That you werent using a bad sample?
I checked all my samples. The results were the same in each case.
But that cant be. Magnetic reversal is a fail-safe method of dating rock samples. Asher exhaled slowly. This must mean the entombment happened even longer ago than we thought. Dating back two reversals, rather than just one. North to south, then south to north again. Im sure your examination of the isotopes will
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