Fossil in the Cliffs

Down a little lower, a little lower…. There!

I didn’t need the ghost to guide me, but knowing who was guiding my hand, I didn’t mind in the slightest.

In the overcast, I could see the line of discoloration in the otherwise smooth, oval shape. I gently took a pick to the edge of the slate holding it in place, gave it a good solid whack.

“Careful! You don’t want to get too close, you’ll shatter the fossil!”

I didn’t know ghosts could roll their eyes so eloquently. Still? Those with a baculum have never gotten over their inadequacy?

“If only that were a bone I could legally extract,” I muttered under my breath. I knew she could hear me; ghosts have rather good hearing. I’m betting it’s all sound vibrations and frequency modulation. Being a student paleontologist, and also a person who sees and hears ghosts, it leads to some strange rabbit holes in the space-time continuum. Over my shoulder, I tossed a “Stuff it, Garrett, go find a male to micromanage, hmm?” I turned back, studied the rock, re-set my chisel, and gave it another whack.

And the fossil gods smiled on me, because the large encased fossil slid out of its prison.

And I promptly slid it into my backpack, before Garrett could claim it for his own.

Because for all his “supervising,” he was only there to steal everyone else’s finds for his own, the lazy oaf.

I was his preferred target, being the only female in the class.

He was sulking on a nearby rock. The others knew his habits as well, and were warning each other when he got near their finds. Of course they didn’t want to warn me, so I had a ghost to watch instead.

Well, two. I’d seen her dog first.

Who doesn’t know Tray?

Practically everyone, unfortunately.

I first learned of Mary Anning by visiting the Natural History Museum in London. Field trip, of course. Her brother's daughter, child of the only other surviving sibling, donated the painting after Mary's death. Gone too young, fuck you breast cancer.

From there, I dove into what history I could find. Hunting fossils on the hills around Lyme Regis seemed like better employment than whatever my parents were pushing me into, batting me back and forth between piano lessons, ballet, field hockey, voice lessons, and tennis, like I was some demented human shuttlecock.

Some things do not change. The playing field, however, is ever-shifting, like the tide. Speaking of-

I immediately turned and hightailed it for higher ground. When a ghost warns you, you listen.

I apologize if I sound like that pompous grouse sitting there. Though turn around when you get a few feet higher, you’ll have a prime view of some petty revenge.

And, sure enough, when I scooted, so did the rest of the class. Funny, that they listen to my actions. Except Garrett, who perched like a barking seagull on his rock, whining that we left too early. So we were all standing together, watching, when…

SPLOOSH!

The waves suddenly got much, much bigger, and covered the beach and tumbled rocks where we had been harvesting. Garret got splashed repeatedly with very cold seawater, and he hunched up, miserable, clutching the slippery surface, and couldn’t move off his rock till the waves stopped battering. Eventually they receded, and though the tide was coming in, he had enough time to slide off and wade through calmer water to squelch himself up to our position.

And then we heard clapping.

Our professor, Emeritus and Fellow of the Geological Society of London, had been hiding and watching. He emerged with his ubiquitous clipboard, making neat little tics on it with his pencil. “Excellent work! Let’s return to the labs so we may learn your prowess in prepping your specimens for display. Except you, Garrett. You have proven that laziness is a stronger motivator than your family’s money, so you can return home. I look forward to telling your charming father of your disgrace. Don’t bother the Dean with your excuses this time; he’s been waiting for you to show your true colors. I’ve had enough. Sarah, I saw that final piece you collected, and look forward to your meticulous work in its preservation.”

*******

Things have changed!

I was lying in my dorm, amazed at the praise. Tray was lying at the foot of my bed, making my feet cold. I didn’t care.

Your efforts were recognized. Your work has been noticed. Ah, I am jealous, you will likely gain a fellowship, where I was denied.

“Those pompous old bastards bought your prepped fossils for a pittance, then wrote about them as if they were their own,” I whispered to the bright shadow by the bed. “They tried to completely erase you from history. And, of course, you’re remembered because there were kindly men who made your presence known, and kept reminding people of your contribution. And messed up your biography. Twice.”

Indeed. I am pleased that my fossils have become important now.

“On display, with your painting, in London. Your pterosaur, plesiosaur, and ichthyosaur are now inspirations for girls like me.”

You are too kind.

“Once I knew of your existence, I became obsessed. I’m glad that your father took you on fossil hunts, and it became your source of income. My mum and dad don’t understand that it’s what I want to do too, so I have to fight on two fronts. Telling my parents this is my choice, and fighting for status because I happen to have boobs. Hopefully today is a turn of tide on many fronts.”

And behinds, when it concerns Garrett!

I smiled at that.

I knew a lot about the ghost who followed me to what I considered my real home.

Born into poor circumstances, she and her brother Joseph were the only two children of the ten that survived. Her father was a cabinetmaker, but sold fossils he found on the side, and took Mary out with him to hunt from the age of five. Her brother Joseph may have found the icthyosaur skull, but she persisted and found the rest of the skeleton four months later. And she – out of necessity – built the fossil shop up from a table at the local coach stop to a brick-and-mortar building, Anning’s Fossil Depot.

And how hardship throughout her life kept her on the poverty line. A local enthusiastic collector of her specimens, with the oh-so British name of Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas James Birch, sold off his pieces and gave most of the money to her family. Later, a good geologist friend, Henry De la Beche, created a watercolor painting called Duria Antiquior, and proceeds of its prints kept her afloat. And none of it helped when the breast cancer dug in, and she had to dose herself heavily with laudanum for the pain.

And of course the whole town thought me a lush.

“Oh, you can hear thoughts?”

Some. You were thinking very hard, about myself, it’s hard to ignore. Suffice it to say, I was never taken seriously. Whether religion, gender, marital status, age, or perceived inebriated state instead of mortal pain, it was always something. But I persisted.

“And so will I, Mary. Especially that marital status and shop owner thing.”

What do you call it nowadays, Ace?

“Yeah. My parents were too busy pushing their get-rich-quick careers off on me to realize what I wanted, in neither career nor matrimony.”

Parents. You can understand my mother was, shall we say, lackluster in the rearing department? My namesake burned to death from playing with the fire, and myself living while the three women holding me blasted to Kingdom Come by lightning striking the tree they were standing under. And none of them my mother. She should consider herself lucky I stayed to keep a roof over her head, instead she would constantly moan about my old maid status. Even my brother got heartily sick of her nattering!

“You got to name and describe your finds. At least the Magazine of Natural History printed an excerpt of your letter to them, criticizing one of their descriptions.”

The latter of which was the only scientific thing published in my lifetime. The rest, stolen work, and published under other names. Mostly those who bought the fossils.

“Henry eulogized you to the Geological Society when you died. He was President at the time, they couldn’t stop him. First time that ever happened, a woman officially recognized by the Society. He always gave you full credit, and so did paleontologist Gideon Mantell. In 2010, the Royal Society recognized you as one of the ten most influential women scientists in British history. Your plesiosaur inspired geologist Thomas Hawkins to write the Book of the Great Sea Dragons. I even got a copy when I learned that.”

Ahh, that is heartening. Henry and Gideon were dear friends, though I admired them more for their learning and camaraderie. How long did it take the stuffy foozlers to finally admit women?

“In 1904.”

Hmph.

“Do you see them around? Gideon and Henry?”

From a distance. We wave. I think they have other tasks to perform before moving on. I know I do.

“Am I a part of that?”

Perhaps. But you should rest, we shall see what your preparation will show.

*******

Mary was fascinated, and envious, of the air blaster I wielded to clear the host rock away from my specimen. Ah, such wonders! What I would have given to possess one of these! Precision sand blasting, who would have thought you could harness that power?

I smiled, but I was concentrating hard. I knew already this wasn’t a common ammonite, or even a cluster of belemites. It didn’t look like a crab either, it was all the wrong shape for that. What did I have?

Our professor was just as curious as I was, as Mary was. Luckily I can concentrate under pressure, because one ghostly head aside of my own and one corporeal one sitting across the lab table from me was rather disconcerting. Tray, of course, was in Mary’s arms, also staring.

“What do you have there, Sarah?”

“I’m not sure, Professor. All I know is that it’s unusual.”

Quite the unusual…

I worked in silence, until all of us sighed in unison. I’d had a suspicion based on Mary’s response, but didn’t want to jinx anything till I’d uncovered most of the fossil.

“Well, I can tell you, it’s unlike any other fossil skull I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot in my career. Students, gather ‘round to witness what just might be a new species of dinosaur being unearthed.”

The boys came over, but gave me space to work. Mary and Tray made sure they did.

And the Professor chuckled. “Sarah, I will generally assist you in writing the paper, but this one is all yours. I won’t take credit for what I didn’t find. And yes, I will sponsor you to presenting this to the Society. I believe you’ve just made a name for yourself, congratulations! If you’ll excuse me, I must make a phone call to inform the committee. As you were, gentlemen.” He swanned out on a carpet of glee, and the boys went back to their ammonites – envious, yes, but not dangerously so. I was relieved.

Do you remember where you were, when you found this?

I pretended to hum quietly, but I was forming words instead. “Are you implying there might be more to this skeleton out there?”

You’re quick. I assume it won’t take you four months to verify my insinuation?

“What, you won’t join me?”

I think I will be quite busy. I see a bright light, and I have an ever-increasing urge to step into it. Oh! And I see colleagues, ready to welcome me into the Society!

I will not cry, I’m not going to spoil my specimen….

Be well, Sarah, about to do the things that I could not! Enjoy your future!

I will, Mary. I will.