3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
S kye
My head spins as I pace the small confines of my temporary room. Ancient Roman gladiators. Frozen in ice since the ship Fortuna sank in 82 AD when it was hundreds of miles off course on its way from Rome to England. Efforts to revive men whose bodies should have been eaten by fish millennia ago. The thoughts tumble through my mind, each more unbelievable than the last.
Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I try to ground myself in the familiar. The antiseptic smell of the hospital. The hum of the air conditioning. The weight of my laptop bag leaning against my thigh. But even these ordinary things feel surreal now, tainted by the extraordinary revelations of the day.
How did I end up here? A low-level programmer suddenly thrust into what could be the biggest news story of the century. It doesn’t make sense.
Except…
The pieces fall into place. Jenny, my immediate supervisor, is on maternity leave. Her boss, Ted, refuses to fly—something about a near-death experience in heavy turbulence years ago. And wasn’t there some last-minute crisis with the new software rollout that had the head of my department working around the clock ?
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. Is that really all it took? A perfect storm of unavailable superiors, a background of working on NextGenTech’s translation program, and suddenly I’m the one jetting off to Switzerland to work on a top-secret project involving time-displaced gladiators ?
The absurdity of it threatens to overwhelm me. I reach for my phone, desperate to call someone, anyone, to confirm I haven’t completely lost my mind. But the stack of NDAs I signed earlier looms large in my memory. This secret isn’t mine to share.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to consider the situation logically. If what Laura told me is even partially true, the meaning is staggering. Not just for history and science, but for language, culture… everything. And I’m right in the middle of it.
A spark of excitement ignites in my chest, growing with each passing moment. This is the kind of challenge programmers dream about. Creating a translation system for a dead language, bridging a gap of two thousand years… perhaps meeting some of these men, hearing their stories.
Although I’ve never been a history buff, the idea of talking to someone who walked in ancient Rome, fought on the sands of the actual Colosseum, is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to a computer geek like me.
I boot up my laptop, fingers flying over the keys as I map out potential approaches. Natural language processing algorithms, machine learning models, speech recognition systems—my mind races with possibilities.
But as quickly as the excitement builds, doubt creeps in. What if I’m not up to the task? What if I fail and these men remain trapped, unable to communicate in a world that’s moved on without them?
A knock on the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts. Laura pokes her head in, her smile tired but genuine.
“How are you holding up?” she asks. “Have you processed everything yet, or are you still in shock? ”
I manage a weak laugh. “Still in shock. I’m not sure I believe any of this.”
Laura nods sympathetically. “I know the feeling. But trust me, once you meet one of them, it will become very real, very quickly.”
“Is the man you mentioned earlier…?” I stumble over the words, still struggling to reconcile the idea of an ancient gladiator in a modern hospital.
“Thrax is awake,” Laura confirms. She hugs herself as though she doesn’t know what else to do to contain her excitement. “It’s early yet, but thank God he’s alive and talking, which means there’s hope for the other twelve men. The doctors are optimistic but have decided to wait to revive anyone else until the translation device is operational. It will give them time to monitor Thrax’s recovery.”
She quirks her mouth in concern. “I met Thrax briefly. Speaking of shock, the poor guy doesn’t know what hit him and we haven’t begun to explain what’s happening. Varro’s with him now.”
Varro. The first gladiator they revived. Laura’s partner. I can’t help but wonder what he’s like, this man who’s seen the rise and fall of empires, who’s walked through time itself.
“I’m… kind of an introvert, but I have to say, I can’t wait to meet them.”
Laura’s smile widens. “Soon. Thrax will need to adjust a bit first, but as I said, you’ll talk a lot with Varro. His input will be crucial for your work.”
I nod, trying to temper my eagerness. These aren’t lab rats or strings of code. They’re people, thrust into a world they couldn’t possibly understand. My curiosity takes a backseat to compassion.
“Of course,” I say. “Whatever’s best for them.”
As Laura leaves, I pick up my laptop, filled with renewed enthusiasm. I may not be able to ease their transition into this new world, but I can give them a voice. A way to understand and be understood.
It’s a daunting task, but as I lose myself in lines of code and linguistic theory, I feel a sense of purpose I’ve never known before. This is bigger than me. Far bigger.
With a deep breath, I dive back into my work. There’s a bridge to be built, spanning two thousand years of history. And somehow, improbably, I’m the one to build it.