Introduction to Biology

The man dropped his shovel; he could not dig anymore. He removed his leather gloves and wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt, which had once been tan, but had now been perspired a deep brown from his long day of work.

The man, whose name was Rearen, looked out at the treacherous desert around him. The desert was a force to be reckoned with, but Rearen was relentless, and they respected each other. He could taste the grains of sand infiltrating his dry lips and could hear unforgiving vultures call from above. Die already, he imagined them saying. You spend days here but do not give us the slightest morsel?

He pulled out his charter. It was just a small black book, fitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, but was a constant reminder of why he endured the suffering of the long journey to this final dig. Rearen checked the coordinates in the notebook again. Had he got it right? He had gone to the written coordinates, but did he perhaps write them improperly? Would poor penmanship cost him his life? Desperately, he jumped into the digging hole, scooping loose sand with his hands and hammering every piece of stone.

The dust and sand lifted all about him at once as the wind funneled into his digging hole. Blinded by the stinging sand, Rearen guarded his face with his forearms. He cried out as his trowel fell into the hole from above, cutting though his pant leg and lacerating the side of his calf. When the violent wind ceased, he looked down in awe at a golden face sticking up amid the sandstone. The desert had finally conceded the dig to him.

“Hello, Ramses,” he smiled.

She was frightfully bored.

The lonely first week of University had passed in a blink and she became painfully aware that her decision to live in a single room was a social handicap. She laid her head down on desk and put her earbuds in. I don’t need anybody right now, she thought. This way I can focus more on my studies. She sighed and peered through the blinds of her window.

The rainy veil almost obstructed her view of a black limousine stopping outside. A man, shielded by an umbrella, fled the car and into the building lobby. Her head tilted, intrigued. Weird, she pondered. Who would bring a limousine to a dorm? The prospect of even seeing who the lucky student was tugged Lynlee’s curiosity and boredom out of her dorm room, down the stairs, and into the lobby.

Lynlee’s dramatic and uncouth entrance into the lobby interrupted an argument between the suited man and the receptionist, whose hand on the phone ready to dial indicated the intensity of the concern. The man looked over at Lynlee quickly, squinting. As Lynlee checked her phone, something she instinctively did in agonizingly awkward situations, the receptionist poked her head out of her glass cage and stared at her.

“Hi, can I do anything for you?” she asked.

“Um, I...” Lynlee stumbled, shoving her phone back into her tiny pocket, “I’m fine, actually, I’m just going out.”

“In the rain?” The receptionist looked Lynlee up and down. Lynlee looked down at her grey blouse and sweatpants.

“No,” She said, as if an explanation were to follow. None came, and Lynlee spun back towards the stairs when the man called out to her.

“Lynlee O’Brien?” He said in a gruff Swedish accent. Lynlee looked at the man in shock as he walked closer to her. His face was old and thin, and his eyes were unmoving. He held out a business card to her. The inscription read Goran Johannson, Esquire.

“Can I help you?”

“Perhaps, Ms. O’Brien, it is better if we discuss this in private,” said the man, peering back at the eavesdropping receptionist. “My driver is waiting outside. The car should be private enough to proceed.”

The man walked out the door, and Lynlee followed close behind, against her ordinarily cautious judgement. He opened the door to the sleek black limousine, revealing white leather seats, with a minibar equipped with glasses of pink champagne. Lynlee slid inside, and Goran sat across from her.

“Lynlee O'Brien,” he said, crossing his legs and tapping on the window to beckon their driver to accelerate, “your Grandfather is dead.”

Lynlee gasped. Her father’s father was her idol and was someone she could always count on in her darkest hours.

“Papa Murph is gone? How?” she exclaimed, shocked.

“Ah, no” Goran said, holding up a hand. “Your other grandfather. Your mother’s father.”

Lynlee caught her breath. My mother’s father? She thought.

“Wait,” she countered, “but my mother’s father is dead!”

“Yes.”

“No, no,” she blurted, “I mean he’s been dead for decades. He was gone before I was born!”

Goran sighed and opened his briefcase, concealing most of its contents from Lynlee. He pulled out a long sheet of paper and handed it to her.

My dear Lynlee,

I regret not knowing you in life, but I have watched you grow up from afar. Your mother despises me, and your father I have not met. I am sure I will never meet you, but I learned recently that you have gone to University in hopes of being an Archaeologist. There is no doubt your mother has given you hell for that. I have wired $20,000 dollars to Goran to cover your tuition in University.

I was once an archeologist. I did things alone, and I sacrificed decades of time and, sadly, many family attachments in pursuit of finding certain projects. While most grandfathers buy their grandchildren ice cream and take them to the cinema, I will have to make up in what surely will be almost 2 decades of poor grandfathery with one deathbed gesture.

I leave my estate and all of my wealth to you to do with it what you may, in hopes that you'll use it to become a great archeologist. I also leave you the ownership of the Tomb and body of the Pharoah Ramses XIII, which is currently being rented to the British Museum for one million dollars a year. Have Goran fill you in on the details if need be.

Say hello to Ramses to me.

With love,

Rearen Jacobs

Lynlee scoured the letter repeatedly, each time searching for the punchline that never came. She finally looked up at Goran, with tears in her eyes.

“Rearen Jacobs?” she spoke for the first time, examining Goran’s blank face for answers.

“Yes, he was a good man. A rich man,” Goran’s cold face twisted into a warm smile. “And now you are a rich woman.”

Lynlee dropped her head in her hands, shakily handing back the letter to Goran. He placed it neatly back into his leather briefcase.

“Everything is covered,” said Goran. “Your schooling is covered. Your student debts are covered. This car officially belongs to you, so does your grandfather’s jet and residence.”

Lynlee looked up at Goran in a flash, then clasped her hands to the window.

“Where are we going?” she panicked.

“No need for alarm,” Goran assured. “He is simply taking us around the block. Your grandfather wouldn’t have wanted to humiliate you.”

She was calmed by the sights of campus outside of her window. She looked back at Goran’s thin face. He passed her a long champagne glass.

“How did he die?” she murmured, staring down at the bubbles in the glass.

“He fought lung cancer for three years. In the last year, he sent a similar letter to your mother, which she undoubtedly discarded before reading. Your mother didn’t know, of course. Your grandfather was a proud man, too proud for a phone call.”

“This is a lot to process,” said Lynlee, outstretching the champagne back to Goran. “What do I do now? Can I tell my parents?”

“Lynlee,” Goran took a sip of the champagne before placing it back on the bar. “You are a millionaire now. Your grandfather left it all to you. You can tell your parents. You can tell the newspaper and your friends if you wish. It is all yours to do with it what you will. Your grandfather said as much in his letter, did he not?”

“He also said that he hoped I use it for archeology.” she rebutted.

“That is your major, isn’t it?”

She nodded. It had always been a dream, even though she knew the job market for archeology majors was primarily in teaching other helpless university students...but here in front of her lay the key to accomplish her greatest desires. And, after all, it came with a mummy.

The car stopped back in front of her dormitory. Suddenly, the large brick buildings of the University were less daunting now that she could buy one. However, as soon as she looked upon the academic stronghold, the bravado drained from her posture. Oh my god, she thought, gasping in horror.

“I have to go,” she stammered, sliding towards the door. “I know this sounds really, like, bad, considering the circumstances, but I have to go.”

Goran smiled and nodded, point at his silver watch. “I know, Lynlee. It’s almost 2:30. Time for Introduction to Biology, isn’t it? You have my card. Reach me when you’re ready.”

Lynlee furrowed her brow, confused, but fled the car in a hurry. He was right: it was almost class time, and she hadn’t finished her homework.