Unknown 9 by Layton Green (each kindness read aloud txt) 📕

with very little information available online. No executives or employees were listed. The website alluded to vague descriptions of the company’s goals: interdisciplinary research aiming to improve the quality of life in India and other developing countries. A collection of photos showcased projects underway in rural communities, though Andie had the distinct feeling that, while the projects might be real, the photos were staged and the people in them, actors. They were all too cheerful and good-looking to be scientists. The whole setup caused a prickle of unease to creep down the back of her neck. Was this an LYS front?

With a deep breath, she took out the Star Phone and aimed it right at the emblem, to see if it triggered the device.

“Anything?” Cal asked in a low voice.

“Not yet.” Disappointed, she scanned the front of the building with similar results. “I guess we’re going inside.”

“Then let’s get on with it,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I feel like a rabbit in a lion’s den.”

She pocketed the phone and led the way to a revolving door at the front entrance. Inside the plant-filled foyer, a tall Indian man rose from behind a desk to greet them. museum staff was imprinted on the left breast of his beige uniform.

“Can I help you?”

The man had long sideburns and a hooked nose. Though he was smiling, Andie got a vibe of wary competence, and noticed the muscularity of his hands and forearms. This guy is a guard.

The spherical foyer extended deep into the building. A succession of glass display cases were embedded into the mauve walls, and imprinted on the plush blue carpet, right in the center of the room, was the emblem of the institute.

Beside the guard’s desk, Andie noticed a stand supporting a hardbound book describing the exhibits of the museum, next to a sign reading kolkata institute museum of antiquities.

Museum of Antiquities? In a science institute?

“We’re here for the museum,” she said, wondering why that sign didn’t look more permanent, and why the museum wasn’t advertised on the website.

The guard held her gaze. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “You’ll have to dispose of your beverage before you enter.”

Andie swallowed the rest of her to-go coffee, then dropped it in a trash can. The guard opened a palm to usher them forward. “Enjoy your visit.”

“Is this room the entire museum?”

“I’m afraid so. It is but a sample of our region’s contributions.” He pointed at the glass case to the left of the revolving door. “I suggest starting your journey there and working your way around.”

Journey? For a single room? What a strange choice of words. “Okay. Thank you.”

“What about the rest of the building?” Cal asked. “I wouldn’t mind seeing where the magic happens.”

“Only the museum is open to the public.”

“Do you mind if I take a few pictures?” Andie asked. “As a memento?”

The uniformed man gave her a small, knowing smile. “I would expect nothing less.”

Cal eyed a clock on the wall behind the desk. It was almost 5:30 p.m. “What are the visiting hours?”

“We close when the last visitor leaves.”

With that cryptic reply, the man retreated behind the desk to pick up a newspaper.

Confused by the whole scenario, Andie took out the Star Phone and pretended to photograph the room. Nothing she did affected the device.

“At least we haven’t been kidnapped yet,” Cal said in a low voice as they wandered over to the first exhibit, the hum of an air conditioner reinforcing the cool sterility of the room.

“Definitely a positive.”

“I don’t know what to think about this place.”

“Me either. Let’s reserve judgment for now.”

“Keep trying the Star Phone,” he said.

“I will. Why don’t you start on the opposite side, in case something jumps out at you?”

“Sure,” Cal said. “Though let’s hope nothing literally does that.”

Andie gave a nervous laugh, then turned to the first exhibit: a three-foot tall column made of red sandstone, displayed in accent lighting and suspended in the middle of the glass case via an unseen mechanism—she assumed invisible wires or magnets. The column had a smooth surface, topped by an exquisite carving of dragons forming a circle made of the same red stone. The bodies of the dragons were interconnected in a clever geometric pattern, leaving no open spaces. The circular shape and the serpentine motif made Andie think of an ouroboros.

She counted the dragons. There were nine—just like the number of steps from the Star Phone to the Enneagon in Dr. Corwin’s journal.

Was it another sign?

She perused the bronze placard at the bottom of the case, which contained a description of the object in both English and Bengali.

Ashoka Pillar

The third emperor of the Mauryan dynasty, which dominated the Indian subcontinent from the fourth to the second centuries BCE, Ashoka is believed to have presided over 50 to 60 million subjects, making his empire one of the largest in antiquity. After seizing power circa 270 BCE, Ashoka led a bloody campaign to conquer Kalinga, a coastal kingdom in the east of India. Historians estimate that casualties ranged from 100,000 to 300,000. Aghast at the carnage, Ashoka shocked the ancient world by converting to Buddhism and vowing to treat his subjects humanely. He renounced all military conquest and transformed the Mauryan dynasty into a paragon of tolerance, charity, and nonviolence. To spread and commemorate his new policies, Ashoka erected towering sandstone pillars inscribed with his new edicts at pilgrimage sites throughout the empire, and along trade routes. The surviving Ashoka pillars are masterpieces of Mauryan architecture and early Indian writing. The miniature pillar in this exhibit was commissioned for King Ashoka’s personal collection and was uncovered from his tomb in Karnataka.

At the bottom of the placard was a translation of the inscription on the miniature pillar behind the glass. The short, curved markings reminded Andie of cuneiform. According to the placard, the inscription was carved in Brahmi, which arose out of Sanskrit.

We pledge together at the crossroad

Devoted to the gathering of knowledge

Through immortal time and spirit.

Though an intriguing piece of history—and one which