Marble floors, ionic columns, firelight from a hearth. Larry adjusted the spike into a crack between the cobblestones and twisted the knob at the top of the yellow box. It looked like some kind of surveying machine, but at this stage it seemed impolite to ask about it, so I kept my mouth shut. He twisted it very carefully and asked me for a flashlight.
We found the Roman numerals without difficulty, but then we had to decipher them. Unsealing a new notebook was the only option, since the first one, the black spiral, was bursting from the margins with Latin, equations, hieroglypics, and what looked like meaningless scribble -- at the time I put them down, they probably meant something. Who knew now. The light was fading. Only two batteries left, and no wood for the fire.
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