Research for Time Trove brought me to the Russian Academy of Sciences in Pushchino, Russia. The unstoppable Doctor Svetlana Yashina and her science team found thirty-two-thousand-year-old seeds to an extinct flower, a narrow-leafed campion (Silene stenophylla) in the Siberian permafrost. The oldest seed to be successfully germinated was just two thousand years old, and before that just two hundred. A thirty-two-thousand-year old carbon date made these seeds completely unrealistic to everyone, except Yashina, who had no doubts. Against all odds and the opinions of the global science community, who told her she was wasting her time, her team miraculously brought the flower back from extinction by germinating the seed’s placenta at the cellular level.
The team told me that Siberia was in the midst of an unprecedented heat wave and the permanently frozen banks of the northern Kolyma River were thawing, revealing prehistoric rodent nests with seeds wrapped in wooly mammoth fur, previously at a depth of one hundred and twenty-five feet. They also mentioned, in addition to the rodent nests, gold was appearing on the melting river banks further down. And at the mouth of the Kolyma, where the river empties into the East Siberian Sea and eventually the Arctic Ocean, beach goers were appearing, and in record numbers so thick, there was no room to lay a towel or see where the sandy shore meets the saltwater. Then, as so often happens when researching the original subject, something entirely different was brought to my attention that stunned me into silence.
Stanislav Gubin, the stout and ruddy team archeologist and mineralogist, mentioned another find, in passing. Near the seeds, at the same level, were perfectly preserved cadavers from the same time.
“Humans?” I said.
“Yes,” Gubin said. “A clan.”
“Wait! That’s incredible. What did your forensic work tell you about them?” I
asked.
Gubin shook his head. “We did not do any forensics.”
I frowned. “What! Why not?”
Gubin leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “The way we found them, they seemed to have all died at the same time, not eaten, not beaten. Probably of illness. And though it was likely the common cold or flu, it may have also been something our species has never encountered before or since, and we didn’t want to awaken anything unknown in our lab.”
I just stared at him, I think for a full minute, my mouth may have been open. I thought, The Andromeda Strain meets The Clan of the Cave Bear meets the twenty-first century and global warming. Damn.
I finally blinked and asked him, “What do you call these cadavers? Do they have a nickname?”
“Ice mumii,” he said.
“The translator said, “Ice mummies.”
I nodded.
That is the subject of the present novel.
W. G. Griffiths
New York
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