From: “Material Analysis Project” <[email protected]>
To: Daniels, Troya M. <[email protected]>
CC: <none>
BCC: <none>
Date: Apr 11, 2008, 9:10 AM
Subject: Soil and paper analysis
Hi Troya,
We got our results back for the 14C dating of the peat soil and paper. The full results will be uploaded to our database by this afternoon, but here’s the broad strokes we have so far:
- peat soil age: 14C BP 1,078 ± 26
- journal paper age: 14C BP 252 ± 34
This makes both samples consistent with the claimed range of 1760-1770CE. Geological records suggest the peat sampled was generated as the result of a minor glacial rockfall in the area, which is consistent with the 14C BP data.
In the water residue within the jar, we also found highly elevated levels of ergoline and other complex natural alkaloids, testing at approx. 15 µg/L (although more precise estimation is still forthcoming). Although it is mere speculation, I would suggest that ergot-infected rye from colonial-era farms may have made their way into the water supply around the same time this journal was jarred, however, more precise testing would be required to evidence this. These alkaloids are most common today in the synthesis of lysergic acid-derivative alkaloids used for pharmaceutical purposes, such as vasoconstriction, but these processes would not be known in the 18th century.
As a side note, I’d like to request that we get some support from Wes once we move towards the ink analysis, as he’s most skilled at non-destructive analysis and we don’t want to remove anything the other teams would need later.
Thank you,
Dwight Weiracs
Lead Material Analyst - Material Analysis Team
Society for the Authentication and Verification of American Religious Artifacts
(212)-513-0415
From: Daniels, Troya M. <[email protected]>
To: Weiracs, Dwight P. <[email protected]>
CC: <none>
BCC: <none>
Date: Apr 11, 2008, 9:48 AM
Subject: RE: Soil and paper analysis
Hey Dwight!
Those results are incredible! I’m glad we can move forward with our next analyses. I’ll forward this info on to Barbelo and TNA. If you could send me a link to the relevant file in the database once it’s uploaded, that would be much appreciated!
As for any potential team relocations, unfortunately, Wes has been using his medical leave and, although I can’t share any more details, I’m not sure we can count on him until next week. We’re wishing him the best, obviously, but I’m not sure I can guarantee he’ll be able to help. I’ll speak with the other teams and see if there’s any sections of the artifacts that they have well-covered and fully scanned, and we can just do a more destructive analysis.
If we do end up finding some material that is available, it’ll be worth running more testing on the paper. I’ll keep in touch!
Thanks so much for your help!
Troya Daniels
General Manager, Project Lead
Society for the Authentication and Verification of American Religious Artifacts
(212)-513-0400
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A Journal. October 4, 1769.
ANOTHER day frustrated by obstacles and false boundaries! We have retired for the day to Fort Toronto. It has been occupied by some French squatters in the years since their loss in the war, traders from the family Rousseau, of which one of the slovenly sons was gifted, operating it like a small fiefdom. He is educated, but merchants often spoil their children, the most well-connected producing the most completely-spoiled, and they use their education only for indulgence and violence (this one seems to be of the former type).
Although he claimed to be expecting Englishmen, and accompanied his various praises with much genuflexion, and spoke quite well, it was of course only after the Gentleman Chevalier disarmed his guardsmen with an almost disrespectful ease; on this latter topic, I will say, it is difficult to explain, but it is as if he was, in the course of the disarmament, operating his blade slower so as to more clearly demonstrate to his victims precisely how he was achieving it, and reduce the risk of injuring them. A less generous man would call it prideful showmanship; I, a sympathetic observer, thought it almost instructive, as if even his opponents were students of his in a shared School of Swordcraft.
Had our day begun this way rather than end, perhaps I would find it easier to be merry, but even this impressive display and the subsequent relaxation at the fur-trader’s hearth cannot temper my mood. There is such animosity amongst our group that I fear the journey has already concluded and we are merely negotiating the terms of our surrender. There is a rot inside many of these men’s minds, from what, I cannot but hazard a guess; Experiences of war? Melancholia of their own? A simple defect of character and virtue which has left them susceptible to fits of anger? It cannot be for lack of an education, but perhaps lack of a proper one…
Our night upon arrival was fitful. It was late, dark, but many wanted to press onward immediately, before the canoes had even been fully carried ashore, chief among them, the Jesuits. Accusations that they were avoiding their share of labour were immediate; no-less from the Italian “Gentleman”, arms a-crossed, whose two men (Portollo in employ and Sidia in bondage) were at his behind, brows wet with effort. It was like a painting composed by an Old Master, rich in drama and irony, I could only with great difficulty believe it was not rehearsed and staged.
Of those who wished to make camp and rest within the Fort’s boundary, their implorement to the Jesuits seemed to be both that the Jesuits would be on a fool’s errand without the remaining instructions (although the Society knows nothing better than sending fools on errands) and, conversely, that the rest of our company could not Trust them not to abscond with the information we, too, require, for it to be lost to posterity. Stüller’s invitation was, we found quickly, to be the Seventh of them, and (deducing from the primes) had Thirteen notches, meaning we may need to cover a considerable distance before we would need to confront his obstacle.
However, it was late, and although these monks were well-trained in arduous journeys, this was not so for all among us. The Swedish Gentleman, Swedenborg, in particular, was in ghastly shape, elderly, a man of at least Eighty, whose daring and fanaticism for the Truth certainly surpasses his constitution by measures of leagues. And, I made sure to state at the time, with a proper noise so I could be heard, of our entire company, we are able neither to speak nor read Swedish, and are relying entirely upon the lingua franca of Latin, which not all of us speak, and which his invitation is not written in, to communicate with the Swedish Gentleman; and if he were to retire before his time, we would have not One but Two invitations lost to the uncertainties of Fate.
This thought allowed the Jesuits to remain, as it appears they are all quite Learned and speak many of the Old Languages, but not One among them Swedish; Herr Stüller would probably have the greatest chance among us, however, this obviously provides no Utility. That being said, despite their resolution to stay and make camp at the Fort, there was still apparent reason for hostility. “Count” Balmetti repeated his accusation towards the Baal-Shem of being a “cheat” and a “rogue” for “attempting to flee into the forest alone” (I feel obliged to repeat, myself, that he ran neither fast nor far enough for us to ever lose sight of him), while Falk himself accuses the “Count” of falsifying his nobility and identity, a notion I am glad to not be alone in (although I have not admitted so, should it risk incurring his ire); Balmetti has no easy or precise response.
It was this way until our arrival at Fort Toronto’s doors, which were ajar with many people in the courtyard. Our arrival was not ceremonious, although we would not want it to be, not at this modest of places, where we do not want to be, nor did we want to be at Fort Niagara. They both possess the stinking miasma of death, Past and Present. I worry what intrigues await us tonight; Sidia and the Chevalier are keeping good company, so I will join them. It is not only because I believe the Chevalier is immune to attack -- although this is certainly true -- but he makes delightful conversation, as well, and possesses a merry quality.
Balmetti is seething in his own corner; Good.
In search of meaning.
Arthur Wickham
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[3/27/2008 19:06]: Our minds are burning
We tried diving into a strange light
We were three men and were with another
And also many more
But we were three men, all three, thrice-seeing thrice-knowing
We could remember so much. So far back. How?
We could remember Golgotha. Even three lives is not enough
We avoided going too far back for this reason. Avoiding the shock of memory. The lives flooding into our own
We remember the birth of our brother, James, our mother shouting across the emerald Glendevon hills
Five thousand years as a torrential downpour, drowning out our own measly decades like nothing
We cannot live within these men again, they are not men
In Swedenborg, we could hear the light and see the light
Staring at James, two millennia after we set the God-Stone upon the King’s Hill, we were the light
We could see in our hands two letters, both riddles with directions to go
We could remember a century before that, the same journey, through the forest and down the cave
Where we see the masked man
He stares without eyes
A golden face, unmoving, without emotion or hesitation
The dagger he places into our abdomen is jet-black and astoundingly slender
He thrice circumnavigates us
We could remember a millennia before that, the same journey, through the forest and down the cave
The masked man is waiting
His lion-browed expression wreathed by a snake
Golden and still
We tell him that we know more of his nature than he ever will
Though he rules us here his rule is not infinite
The blade orbits us, gripped by his gloved hand, there was no other option
Why do we remember this? What more do we know?
We cannot dive into them again to find the answers, there are too many memories, too much mind, we have to look elsewhere
We must focus on our mission, to disrupt the formation of the Northern Lodge
Signing off
.
