XLVII – Romans, Caesar, Wrinklies And A Mystery

Dear Journal:

There we were, four humans and six wrinklies staring at pages of parchment on the table before us. Correction, the humans were staring at the parchment and the wrinklies were staring expectantly at the humans. The staring was caused by the realization that, of the six blueprints of the Imperial sub basement, all were different in one way or another.

For example, one blueprint had the rooms we were familair with and nothing else. Another had those rooms plus corridors shooting off into nowhere. Another had the corridors ending in massive underground chambers with doors (I think they were doors) leading even furthur underground. One blueprint didn’t even show the rooms we had seen with our own eyes.

Still another showed the areas of the rooms we were familiar with, but shaped differently. I immediately thought of the blueprints as a progression of different stages of construction. Simple, right? Nope. The blueprints were dated in a completely different order suggesting concealment rather than expansion.

Turning to Mutt One I asked “Was this all there was?”

Immediately I felt the stares of every Roman present. Caesar had lost it and was now consulting his dogs. Mutt One’s reaction to my question stunned everyone, including me. He sat back, cocked his head to one side, raised his ears, and vigorously nodded his head to the positive. I smiled.

“Then, go play!”

All the wrinklies smiled toothy grins and, stubby tails awag, headed off to their favorite hallway for some racing practice.

I looked at the Lady, the Senator, and the Tribune and grumbled.

“Ookaaay! Someone has been intentionally hiding rooms from everyone else. How come? We can’t renovate until we find out if all these extra rooms are real and where they ultimately lead to. Or, where the tunnels end. Also we’d better recall the General and the Titans. I think we’re going to need their help on this one. Any other suggestions?”

I already knew the answer as well as everyone present. We would have to go down to the lower levels and do our own investigating. Once again, and not for the last time to be sure, I found myself longing for my old fishmonger days. Had I known then what was actually down there, and what we found, I would’ve gone back to bed and stayed there.

Chapter XLVIII

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Published in: on December 27, 2009 at 8:19 PM  Leave a Comment  
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