A Family Summer
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 3
Leaning against a stunted ponderosa pine near the cliff edge, Dana watched Ken studying the flat basalt overhang. Behind the tree, a bulge of bald cliff dropped over thirty metres to folds of fractured black lava, talus and pumice.
Down on one knee, Ken examined neat rows of petroglyphs. Some carvings were abstractions, most looking like native representations of strange creatures.
He turned his attention from the rock face, studying the interior of a nearly circular vent hole.
“Don’t touch,” Dana warned when his hand reached out. “We don’t want anything contaminated. Scientists had studied growth layers of lichen, also bits of charcoal imbedded in tiny fissures. All items had been accurately dated. A vocal collection of opponents are insisting that the carvings are fakes because Some figures appeared to be of different cultures. My father’s discovery even has him baffled.”
Ken pointed at a spot inside the vent tube. There, several scratches seemed out of place.
“At a glance, I’d say that was a modern scientific or mathematic symbol. An approximately equal to.”
“One critic noticed that,” Dana told him. “He claims they are stylized mathematic symbols and thus, fakes. Trouble is, various factors show their ancient.”
Ken gestured. “Just above them is an infinity loop.”
‘A yummy hunk, observant and intelligent too?’ Dana thought, cocking her head, regarding him with even more interest, asking, “Approximately equal to what?” She already knew the answer, wondering, ‘has he already spotted what dad keeps missing? Mind, it Took me weeks to notice!’
Totally captivated, Ken knelt closer, angling his head, once again reaching out a finger.
“Don’t touch!” she blurted, causing him to jerk his hand back. “Dad doesn’t want anything disturbed. Not even the slightest bit of DNA contamination. A lot of people want to discredit him. A few stray skin cells might do that.”
Looking sheepish, he drew fingers through the air, eyes focused inside the dark vent opening, indicating the line of scratches. They were small, nearly invisible, seemingly insignificant marks.
“Approximately equal to these symbols on the right. Roman numerals one decimal V, then, what looks like a stylized superscript, a little E, then superscript VI.
Approximately equal to one point five raised to the sixth power. One hundred fifty thousand? That looks like ... a date.”
Dana let out a quiet breath, grinning to herself. “Carbon fourteen from the charcoal marks were too old to date,” she told him with a distracted air, noting when Ken turned, his brows arching. “Accelerator mass spectrometry showed that Bone implements left with fired clay pots back in that vent tube were impregnated with pigments. Bone showed potassium argon dates around one hundred sixty thousand years, give or take a few hundred years.”
“But, that doesn’t make any sense,” he said, giving her a puzzled look. “There were no people in North America until eleven or twelve thousand years ago. No wonder there’s a lot of controversy.”
“Actually, that may be incorrect,” Dana stated knowingly, letting, her gaze wandering up the overhang. “There are researchers who believe humans evolved in North America long before that. During the California gold rush, just after eighteen forty-nine, relics and bones were found well back in mines. Those were in Pliocene gravels which had been covered by lava flows. Those lava flows were almost a hundred thousand years old. Reports indicate that miners working the underground gravel deposits of Table Mountain recovered relics and bones ... Those discoveries are still generally ignored. Published scientists don’t like contradictions, and of course, back then, they didn’t have our modern dating technology. For decades, attempts were made to explain those California discoveries away as fakes or mistakes. Eventually, mysteriously, the skeletal remains and relics which went to a California university somehow vanished.”
“But, that’s contrary to everything I ever read,” he said.
She nodded. “ At least one fossilized skull was relatively modern, like Cro-Magnon. Possibly, scholars have history backwards?”
“What do you mean, backwards?” Ken asked.
She grinned, gesturing at the pictographs, saying, “well, these pre-date the theorized Asiatic land-bridge migration by well over a hundred thousand years. Cro-Magnon may have evolved in North America, migrating to Europe. So, our ancestors were here first. That stirs up an even worse bucket of worms. Anthropologists and historians don’t like the notion that their works are bogus. Issues around aboriginal land claim get messy. Actually, worse than messy, if Asian migrants displaced our ancestors.”
“Sounds like we’re getting into dicey territory. As bizarre as prehistoric alien visitations and genetic manipulation?” he said, shaking his head, giving her a disarming smile. “Next you’ll tell me you believe in planet X.”
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