Illustration: “Time 2 Get Up!” © 2005 by Romeo Esparrago
Dr. Stanley Kelvington looked like a typical archaeologist. It was difficult to decide whether this was because he was an archaeologist, or whether his demeanour had led him to take up this line of work. This kind of philosophy did not concern him, however. He was a practical and methodical man — ideal traits for his chosen career. Affairs of the world concerned him little; he was only interested in things that were at least a century old.
When the sides of the tall, narrow trench in which he was digging began to collapse, he was worried less about the possibility of being buried alive in mud than that his carefully placed markers would shift positions. It had been raining for a number of hours, which meant that the slow slumping of the edges quickly took on the proportions of an avalanche. Suddenly realising the gravity of his situation, Stanley scrambled towards the ladder at the end of the ditch. The sludge on the floor was quickly gaining depth, slowing him down and making his footing treacherous. Halfway to the ladders the mud got the better of him and he sprawled face down into it. He surged forward through the ever-thickening mire but was unable to find anything solid to push against. His limbs sank as he tried to push himself forward, and more sodden earth poured into the hole from the surrounding mounds. Flailing furiously, he finally made contact with the ladder and began to pull himself up, only to find that it was sinking under his weight too. The level of mud quickly rose to his shoulders and continued filling in the ditch. The ladder, now at a forty-five degree angle, finally stabilised and Stanley was able to use it to heave himself up a few more inches, just as the mud reached the top of the ditch and ceased to flow. Just his head protruded above the ground.
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