Hunter was pleased to find that the history department was actually situated in the soul of the campus.
Unfortunately, the Foundations of Martial Arts class was located further away, and had gone how he'd assumed it would. News of his attack had made the rounds over the last month. He'd received a lot of attention when he showed up, which was something he was growing used to. The reactions ran the usual gamut, from pity, to curiosity, to scorn. The instructor, Immanuel, refused the title of professor. He was skeptical of Hunter. And during the fitness test he'd subjected Hunter to, one which was required of all students from the start, only strengthened the instructor's doubts.
Hunter's time with Aera had done wonders for his endurance, but he was still far from adequate enough to keep up with everyone else.
When it was clear Hunter was done, the instructor let him sit to the side for the rest of the class. Ignoring the stares, including those from Instructor Immanuel, he practiced his new focusing techniques instead of dwelling on his physique. He figured if he wanted to make the most progress he could in the shortest amount of time, he needed to take advantage of any free time he had. The focusing exercises didn't require hours of practice. It was better to dive into deeper states of focus over those longer sessions, but even 15 minutes would be enough to help with easing the transition into a focused state, which would help him during the longer sessions.
He found that when he went deep enough, time seemed to melt away. Even his brief in-class session felt like mere minutes before the class ended. Hunter's next class wouldn't start for an hour, so he had time to get changed before grabbing a snack and a coffee. Then he was on his way to the soul.
He figured it made sense that the history department was in the most historically significant place on campus. His teacher's background remained largely a mystery. He only learned the man's name, that he had a successful career in archaeology, and is recognized for his expertise in translating ancient languages, especially Asutnahem. Having seen that, Hunter felt that he'd made the right choice with choosing this elective. His interest in the Asutnahem went beyond his previous desire to feel closer to his father. Now it was more personal.
Much mystery surrounded the Asutnahem. Hunter sensed these mysteries were worth investigating, and not just for the potential discovery of ancient glyphs.
The tale of the Journeyer had struck a chord in him ever since he had seen it. It was like it planted as a seed in him that taken root and sprouted. He saw a lot of himself in the Journeyer, and he figured that many would find that the Journeyer's tale reflected events in their own lives. Taking full ownership of what you have in order to cross a gap of uncertainty; it spoke of the human soul, and challenges which human beings encounter, and the inner strength that it cultivates. He wondered what else the Asutnahem had in store for him.
Everything that had happened to him so far seemed to point to finding strength, which was like the woman inviting the Journeyer across the chasm. Hunter's tools to cross that chasm were his father's journals. He'd realized that he was discovering something about himself, something that was unnerving, but appeared to be working for him.
What he'd discovered was that he wasn't who he thought he was.
In fact, he was both better and worse than he thought he was. His tenacity had brought him pride, yet the flexibility of his integrity had given him cause for concern. His sense of ethics seemed more flexible than he'd assumed.. So far, he'd betrayed his old ideals and not only joined a corporation, but a Council family as well. Granted, Trey didn't cut quite the same figure of the greedy executives he always used to imagine, but the fact remained.
It was the same with the journals, and with the Internal Arts. What surprised Hunter the most is that the guilt felt skin deep. When he questioned himself and confronted the idea that what he was doing might be the wrong choice, he found that didn't regret his choices.
Actually, there was some regret, given how his choices had brought him face to face with Aera Oberon.
"Good morning, class. Good to see you all again, and it looks like we have a new face!" Professor Jackson broke Hunter out of his contemplation as he walked into the classroom. He had a large, over-stuffed satchel filled with what Hunter could only guess were tomes of great wisdom. The man was short, chubby, and had tufts of long, grey hair shooting out from under a green trilby hat. He wore a tweed jacket, a thick pair of blue jeans. This man was exactly what Hunter had been imagining when he'd first heard about the history professor.
He looked like a man who would teach history. Even if you were to encounter him randomly on the street, you'd know that this man spent most of his time with his head in the past.
"I'm—" Hunter said, but Professor Jackson held up a hand.
"Don't tell me. Let me see," he said, running his finger down a list, "Ah, Mr. Hunter Oberon Koar. Well then, Mr. Koar, welcome to my class — such as it is. Now, where were we? Last class, I believe we were talking about the 4th Illaic dynasty, correct?"
The class shared confused looks with each other. Professor Jackson frowned.
"No? That must be the next class, then. Can someone remind me what we covered last time?"
A young man at the front of the class raised his hand.
"Yes," Professor Jackson invited him to speak.
"We were talking about the Asutnahem influence of early Illaic symbolism."
If people's heads really had lightbulbs going off when they had a moment of epiphany, Hunter imagined that Professor Jackson must have a dozen of them, at least.
"Then I was about to introduce you to my favourite area of research, one near to my heart. Do any of you know what I did in my past life? Before becoming an esteemed professor of history, that is. Anyone?"
Hunter raised his hand.
"Mr. Koar."
"I read you were an archaeologist and translator."
"Among other things, but you're correct. You see how the two go hand in hand, yes? Good. I've spent a considerable portion of my life immersed in ancient languages, studying not only meaning, but how meaning evolved throughout the ages. And I've discovered some very wonderful things. Oh, I should stop there before I get in trouble."
It was clear from the look in his eyes that he had no intention of stopping.
"Ah, who cares. If anyone asks, tell them I digressed, and that I warned you all that what I'm about to tell you is far from the consensus. In fact, I tried to have this information included in the syllabus, but alas, the world doesn't appear ready for what I have to share," Professor Jackson sighed.
He grabbed some chalk and wrote a word on the chalkboard. Unfortunately, the chalk slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor. But the man's passion was untouched.
"What does that say?" He asked the class.
"Sanctuary," someone called out.
"Sanctuary!" he said, his voice raised. "Yes! Our home. Sanctuary, safety, home. Having conquered the wilds and climbed the food chain, our cave-dwelling ancestors found great solace in the concept of home."
He picked up the piece of chalk he'd dropped.
"By my colleagues' estimation, the Asutnahem were little better than bronze-age cultural savages. Oh, they had some degree of etheric knowledge, and their use of symbolism and was quite matured compared to some later civilizations, but make no mistake! They were far less sophisticated than we are. At least, that's what my colleagues would have you believe," he said, underlining the word on the board.
"Sanctuary, where does the name come from? The word comes from an ancient Illaic term for our world. We traced it through the Mideni Kingdoms, whose word for homeland eventually reached the Illaic people, whose literature and social dramas are enjoyed even thousand of years beyond their demise. But before all of that, my contemporaries would have you believe that such a word evolved from the Asutnahem word for haven, or home. Do we agree?"
It didn't take a genius to understand that the question was rhetorical.
Professor Jackson shook his hand from side to side.
"Perhaps. There is good reason to believe it, but my studies have revealed another possibility altogether. The Asutnahem are quite a puzzle, are they not? Want to know something? It's a very dirty little secret which many of my colleagues would refuse to admit, I assure you. The Asutnahem language, as we know it, is full of holes; deep, dark holes that could re-contextualize everything we think we know about them. For instance," the professor sketched out a series of lines and curves on the board behind him.
"Who recognizes this? None of you? Right, it's advanced and you wouldn't have seen it until your 3rd year of studies. This line is from an Asutnahem scroll. Its meaning is debated; some say it's poetry, others a deed, a description of a blanket, or a priest's decree. Folded over the land which we lay down our heads is the supposed meaning of this phrase. It's an approximate translation and you will find many others who disagree to varying degrees. But most will say it's accurate enough," he said, though his voice was mocking.
"And guess what? They're wrong. Even the ones who disagree are wrong. Everyone is so, so, so wrong. Look. See these lines here? The Asutnahem language evolved over millennia — yes, they were around for a long, long time. These lines disappeared over time," his voice rose to a higher pitch as he spoke, and he circled certain dashes and curves in the text he'd written on the board.
"We can track linguistic drift throughout Asutnahem history. What a word means now is not what it will mean a century or two from now, let alone 9 centuries. Understand? How can we expect this to mean the same thing to future generations?" he asked, circling and underlining the phrase.
"It's absurd. Take any religion in modern times — how many interpretations are there of the same text? How many translations and disagreements over translations do we have to deal with? Future historians are going to have an absolute mess on their hands trying to track that particular memetic genealogy. Mark my words," he said, scratching his head and considering the chalkboard once more.
"Anyway, where was I?" he mumbled to himself, and then he struck a victorious finger up into the air. "Right! I've spent the last few years using this phrase as a marker, an 'anchor', if you will. I have researched the history of these words thoroughly, and I've been able to shorten the entire phrase to two words in our current language."
He drew a line between the two halves of the phrase.
"The phrase contains two points of interest. See here, 'the land which we lay down our heads,' and that this land is being 'folded over'. Yet, this line is complete. Complete? You ask. Yes, the idea conveyed makes the line complete; it contains everything needed to fully communicate its meaning to the recipient."
He paced the room, scratching his beard as he spoke, seeming to be close to losing himself in his own inner world.
"My studies have seen various versions of 'folded over', bubbling up all over the Asutnahem timeline. Archaeologists uncovered what is commonly believed to be an old Asutnahem recipe book. Translation took about two years. However, in the context of this book suggests folded over meant enclosed or contained back then, as the book matches the linguistic period of our anchor document."
He stopped pacing, glancing at the class, gauging their interest and reactions.
"So, this changes the entire phrase, does it not? Now what we have is, contained and, the land which we lay down our heads. So, what? A bedroom? Perhaps a house? Yes, it would seem so. But I was not content with that answer. I had a gut feeling, you see? Pay attention to your gut feelings," the professor paused his lecture, staring each of them in the eye. "They are very important. Damn the consequences, go with your gut. Where was I?"
He glanced at the board.
"The land which we lay down…right. Believe it or not, laying down our heads is only loosely related to the original translation. I was about to point that out. My translation is a bit more complex, and I'll save you from the long, messy road that I had to travel to reach my current understanding of the phrase. But I suppose I can give you the cliff notes. The laying down of heads is an Illaic phrase, a poetic cliche which gained popularity in their 3rd century. Much of the work the Illaic did in translating history was sloppy, which was hardly their fault. There were many pressures influencing them, but I digress. The Asutnahem phrase, laying down of heads, previously misunderstood, originates in a late Asutnahem text detailing the passage of time from dawn till dusk. This text is part of a larger work on a strange cosmology."
"So, what is contained? We lay down our heads on this land; however, the Asutnahem descendants described this land within a larger context, encompassing not only the land itself but also the passage of time as measured by the sun. It includes the earth, the sun, and the stars. The phrase includes the development of ecosystems, the overall processes of change that we experience. It's the world! The world! Or, more specifically, and this is a very important nuance, a world. The world implies a singular, specific world. But 'a' world implies one among others. If I'm right, and I believe I am, then this phrase means a contained world."
He paused. The implication was sinking in. Some students gasped, some scoffed in disbelief.
"You're saying they knew?" Hunter asked, his head spinning at the revelation. But how could they? They wouldn't have had any way of leaving the world.
"They knew!" the professor said.
"Ridiculous," one student said. The professor laughed.
"Then prove me wrong," the professor shrugged, "you can't, obviously. You're all young and do not know about any of this. But my colleagues have yet to give me any evidence which can contradict my discovery. I will continue to believe the Asutnahem understood our world far better than we realize, until proven otherwise.
The professor checked his watch.
"We still have more time left, and I should get you all back on track. Thank you all for entertaining my little rant. Now, Illaic symbolism, was it? Right…"
Hunter couldn't believe his luck. He had attended this class out of all the others — just in time to hear one of the most incredible digressions he'd ever heard. The rest of the class passed by in a blur. Hunter's mind kept returning to Professor Jacksons' speech.
The Asutnahem knew? It was an incredible claim, one that Hunter would want to have verified as soon as possible. But who could he talk to about this?
If this turned out to be an elaborate crackpot theory, he'd be disappointed. But the implications…
…did the Asutnahem have a presence beyond their world? If not, how did they discover that the world had an edge, that it was 'contained?'
Trey would be interested in the professor's work. Maybe he'd know someone who could verify the claims.