the airport terminal, gazing out the window. There was an empty seat across from him.
“May I take this seat?” I asked.
“Please do.”
I sat down and remained quiet, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. After some time, he spoke.
“Do you know that I have been excavating this site outside Alexandria for six seasons?”
“Yes, I was told.”
“And that doesn’t include the five years I spent building evidence that this was, in fact, the best place to search for Cleopatra’s tomb. Eleven years, Wyatt. Eleven years of work focused primarily on this mission.”
Dr. Aziz again turned his head to the window, as if questioning his long-term commitment. Then he leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I have another question for you,” he said. “A question that is very important for an aspiring scientist.”
I leaned in, not wanting to miss a word.
“What do you think is the greatest challenge in the life of an archeologist?”
“That’s hard to say.”
He clinched his right fist.
“Overcoming doubt,” he said with such conviction it was like he was trying to convince himself. “So much work and preparation go into choosing a location to excavate. Then you can spend years excavating. Of course, there are times when all of your work pays off and you make a wonderful discovery. Then there are times when you dig and dig and never find what you’re looking for. This was the case in my search for the Pharaoh Nefertiti. We worked for years before realizing that there was nothing there. Only empty chambers. I must tell you, it is difficult to overcome such failings.”
“But aren’t you confident you’re getting close to finding something at this site?” I asked.
“Finding something, yes. But therein lies the problem. What it is we’ll find, no one knows.”
“So you think Cleopatra might not be buried there?” I asked, regretting my question before I’d even finished asking it.
Dr. Aziz sat quietly for a moment. He turned his head and looked out the window.
“To give you an honest answer, Wyatt. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
GANNON
FEBRUARY 26
NIGHT
For me, Cairo has lost its magic. The frenzy, the chaos, and exotic charm of this ancient place, it’s all been lost. But I know it’s not Cairo. I mean, nothing has changed in the city. It’s all me. I’ve changed.
My parents were waiting for me at the station when the train arrived.
“Hey, partner,” my dad said. “Had a rough go of it, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“Dr. Aziz called,” my mom said. “He wanted to make sure you knew there was no shame in leaving the expedition. He said you are certainly not the first.”
“Even Dr. Aziz has had panic attacks during his explorations,” my dad said. “Just goes to show you, it happens to the best of them.”
I know they meant well and all, but I was in no mood for a pep talk.
“Can you please take me back to the hotel?” I asked. “I’d like to be alone for a while.”
“Sure,” my mom said, and put her arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
WYATT
FEBRUARY 26, 8:41 PM
TOMB COMPLEX OUTSIDE ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT
16° CELSIUS, 61° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND CALM
We’ve settled into a camp made up of sixteen large tents. The camp sits high atop the desert dunes, approximately thirty miles southwest of Alexandria. James, Serene, and I are sharing a tent. It’s very basic, with a cot and small desk for each of us, and there is a small bathroom attached. Dr. Aziz is outside inspecting the equipment with his assistant, Khalid, a 28-year old archeology student who is pursuing his doctorate. Our work begins tomorrow.
Camels carrying supplies through the desert
I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Dr. Aziz at the airport. Overcoming doubt. As he said, it’s one of the greatest challenges an archeologist will face. Truth is, this applies to anyone who takes big risks. Being able to overcome doubt depends on a
“May I take this seat?” I asked.
“Please do.”
I sat down and remained quiet, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. After some time, he spoke.
“Do you know that I have been excavating this site outside Alexandria for six seasons?”
“Yes, I was told.”
“And that doesn’t include the five years I spent building evidence that this was, in fact, the best place to search for Cleopatra’s tomb. Eleven years, Wyatt. Eleven years of work focused primarily on this mission.”
Dr. Aziz again turned his head to the window, as if questioning his long-term commitment. Then he leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I have another question for you,” he said. “A question that is very important for an aspiring scientist.”
I leaned in, not wanting to miss a word.
“What do you think is the greatest challenge in the life of an archeologist?”
“That’s hard to say.”
He clinched his right fist.
“Overcoming doubt,” he said with such conviction it was like he was trying to convince himself. “So much work and preparation go into choosing a location to excavate. Then you can spend years excavating. Of course, there are times when all of your work pays off and you make a wonderful discovery. Then there are times when you dig and dig and never find what you’re looking for. This was the case in my search for the Pharaoh Nefertiti. We worked for years before realizing that there was nothing there. Only empty chambers. I must tell you, it is difficult to overcome such failings.”
“But aren’t you confident you’re getting close to finding something at this site?” I asked.
“Finding something, yes. But therein lies the problem. What it is we’ll find, no one knows.”
“So you think Cleopatra might not be buried there?” I asked, regretting my question before I’d even finished asking it.
Dr. Aziz sat quietly for a moment. He turned his head and looked out the window.
“To give you an honest answer, Wyatt. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
GANNON
FEBRUARY 26
NIGHT
For me, Cairo has lost its magic. The frenzy, the chaos, and exotic charm of this ancient place, it’s all been lost. But I know it’s not Cairo. I mean, nothing has changed in the city. It’s all me. I’ve changed.
My parents were waiting for me at the station when the train arrived.
“Hey, partner,” my dad said. “Had a rough go of it, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“Dr. Aziz called,” my mom said. “He wanted to make sure you knew there was no shame in leaving the expedition. He said you are certainly not the first.”
“Even Dr. Aziz has had panic attacks during his explorations,” my dad said. “Just goes to show you, it happens to the best of them.”
I know they meant well and all, but I was in no mood for a pep talk.
“Can you please take me back to the hotel?” I asked. “I’d like to be alone for a while.”
“Sure,” my mom said, and put her arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
WYATT
FEBRUARY 26, 8:41 PM
TOMB COMPLEX OUTSIDE ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT
16° CELSIUS, 61° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND CALM
We’ve settled into a camp made up of sixteen large tents. The camp sits high atop the desert dunes, approximately thirty miles southwest of Alexandria. James, Serene, and I are sharing a tent. It’s very basic, with a cot and small desk for each of us, and there is a small bathroom attached. Dr. Aziz is outside inspecting the equipment with his assistant, Khalid, a 28-year old archeology student who is pursuing his doctorate. Our work begins tomorrow.
Camels carrying supplies through the desert
I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Dr. Aziz at the airport. Overcoming doubt. As he said, it’s one of the greatest challenges an archeologist will face. Truth is, this applies to anyone who takes big risks. Being able to overcome doubt depends on a
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