I was nearly thrown out of the Jeep as we bounced down the rock-strewn road under a white hot sun. Despite my seat belt, I hung on for dear life, even though I had been told that I would be perfectly safe; I was assured the intern was a consummate driver.

I attempted to ignore the taste of salt and dirt, to no avail. My mouth was dry, but there was no way in hell I was going to let go and try to drink from the water bottle. We'd have to stop first which meant delaying getting to the dig. Since time was money, especially when it came to my fee, there'd be little chance of convincing the intern to slow down, much less stop.

"So! Tony! How many times have you been out to this particular dig?" the intern asked, grunting a little as she hit yet another rock. She had to be aiming for them; it was statistically impossible to be jarred this much.

"It's Dr. Graham. I have a degree, a very good one at that, and with it came a title. Please use it."

The intern turned her head to stare at me and proved my theory correct; for five seconds, our ride was smooth.

"Well, okay, then," she mumbled before resuming her suicide-by-Jeep obstacle course.

Typical. Honestly, maybe it was just me, but it really did seem like people were getting ruder all the time. Why wouldn't someone use my title, if they knew I had one, especially if I was a VIP coming on-site to their dig? And when did it become okay to address someone at least twenty-years your senior, whom you have just met, by their first name?

"To answer your question, this will be the sixth time I have visited Mr. Sheridon's dig."

She said nothing else along the way. I think I offended her, though I wasn't sure. If my assistant was with me, he'd tell me. It wasn't like I could just outright ask. That would be weird.

By the time we reached the dig, I was more than ready to rid myself of the "consummate driver". I have to be at least an entire vertebrae shorter than when I first climbed into that damned vehicle. I stifled a groan while exiting the Jeep.

My lower spine twinged as I reached for my bag. My hand automatically went to the area of pain on my lower back. I think I broke my tailbone! Lots of people don't know that it's possible to break your coccyx, that little hangy-down bone at the top of your ass crack, but I was relatively certain mine was shattered into at least a million pieces.

I chuckled to myself over the running dialogue in my head. My assistant would be proud of me. Telling jokes and making up lies was not my forte. Yet here I am, killin' it! Had I felt more spry, I'd have danced a little jig in my bright red Chucks in celebration of my improved exaggeration skills.

Hmmm. Wait. Would that be weird? Should I be in dress shoes for a jig?

I was going to be very glad when my assistant, Jeff Donovan, arrived and I could ask someone these questions. Most people found them to be odd. Maybe Jeff found them odd too, but I paid him enough to fake it. Or maybe he didn't. I couldn't tell.

He wasn't able to travel in time and so I took the jet out ahead of him. I, very generously, paid for his airfare to fly commercial, however. I hoped they gave him pretzels instead of peanuts. A dead assistant wouldn't do me any good.

"Dr. Graham! So good to see you again!" I heard someone call. The voice seemed familiar, so I was not surprised when I turned and found Mr. Sheridan walking swiftly in my direction.

Too fast! Approaching too fast! I couldn't help but take a step back, but my ass hit the Jeep and I had to wince. As painful as it was, it served as the distraction I needed to keep from panicking.

Fortunately, Mr. Sheridan and I had a past working relationship and he, upon seeing my distress, stopped some distance from me.

"I do apologize, Dr. Graham. Please, allow me to greet you whenever you are ready."

See? Now there is a very respectable human being. The intern could learn a thing or two. I took a calming breath, hefted my bag, and paced out the space between us. One... two... three... five 'Graham Strides' in total had me standing before him.

"I'm ready to be greeted now," I informed him. I saw him smile and he held out a fist, knuckles up.

"You remembered!" I couldn't help but exclaim, performing the fist bump that I preferred as a greeting. I have never been comfortable with handshakes.

"Of course, Dr. Graham. I believe that I have your tent set up in the way that you prefer as well. If not, I have those who can quickly fix it."

"Thank you, Mr. Sheridan. I would like to see my tent now."

"Please," he said, indicating the way, "come this way. I have you set up a little north of the dig, tent facing west as I remember you to be fond of the setting sun."

"Yes. It is the most beautiful time of the day," I agreed, pacing along with him, maintaining two Graham Strides of distance between us.

When we entered the tent, I immediately felt more at ease. To my right was a cot, straight ahead was the desk and to my left was a washstand. All of the things that needed to be placed around the tent, such as pillows, pens and pencils, and a mirror, were in a box in front of the desk. I would place them where I wanted as I desired.

"Perfect! Yes, you did quite well, Mr. Sheridan."

"Very good," he said with a nod. "Are you hungry? We have all just had lunch, but there are still some things available. I can offer green, yellow, and orange today. What color would you like?"

I contemplated his question. "Orange, please."

"I believe there are oranges, carrots, orange lentils, and, just for you, an orange Ice Pop for dessert. Would that suffice?"

"You have my trays?" I asked.

"Yes, of course."

I nodded. "Then, yes, that will suffice."

"Very good! I will have everything delivered in," he checked his watch, "fifteen minutes."

I set my timer. "Okay. I will arrange the desk."

As I took items out of the box and arranged them on the desk, in their proper places, I appreciated the lengths to which Mr. Sheridan was willing to go to make me comfortable at his dig. It was why I kept agreeing to come back, even though I really disliked the desert.

Not many people understood what it was like to be "high functioning" in society; he seemed to make an effort unlike most that I knew. He understood that I liked things like routine, spatial placement, and eating foods of the same color from trays that kept the food from touching. Did I need these things? No. But did they make me feel more comfortable? You bet your ass!

Jeff told me that many people didn't understand and so it seemed like they didn't care. I didn't agree; some people were just assholes that couldn't be bothered. We "agreed to disagree" on that point.

Just as the alarm on my watch chimed, I heard a voice call from outside the tent, "Dr. Graham? I have your lunch if you are ready for it?"

"Yes. Come in. I will eat at the desk."

A lovely young woman came and set the tray on the desk, rotating it so that the "Y" of the tray would be upright for me. In actuality, that was one thing that I didn't mind too much doing without, but Jeff said it would be rude to point it out; our host prided himself on making his guests comfortable.

"When would you like your Ice Pop delivered, Dr. Graham?" the woman asked as she turned away from me to go. I appreciated the effort to not make eye contact.

We both looked at our watches. "I believe that another fifteen minutes would be fine," I said. We set our watches and she left quietly.

I sat to eat, tasting a little of each before deciding on the order. I delighted in the sourness of the orange when compared to the sweetness of the carrots and the richness of the lentils. I couldn't fathom how people could allow such nice flavors to touch. I ate the lentils first, then the orange slices, and finally the carrots.

Once again, just as my watch chimed, I heard a similar chime outside the door. "Dr. Graham? I have your Ice Pop."

"Come in."

She came to the desk and once I had taken the frozen desert, took away my tray and utensils. I snipped the top of the plastic tube off with the scissors, then sucked the cold juice out. Next, I worked the pop into slush to squeeze out of the tube. Jeff would say that it was a "little bit of heaven", but I thought he exaggerated a bit too much.

Once finished, I placed the plastic in the trash and began to sort the tent.

I spent twenty-three minutes placing items where they were supposed to go, including stowing my two spare pair of red Chuck Taylor sneakers, after which I decided to lie on the cot. Jeff had said that staying in the tent would be better than going out to explore since I would eventually walk over a place where they needed to dig.

Jeff was really good at the business side of things. He said that telling them every interesting place I walked over wasn't good for business and that I should only tell them what I found in the area where they wished to know. While it annoyed me sometimes to be treated like human ground radar, he'd help me use my talent and love of geology to get very, very rich. I liked rich. I could buy as many pairs of my favorite shoes as I wanted. Oh, and I had a private jet. How cool was that?

I counted the flies to pass the time. There were sixteen.

My back was feeling so much better that, when Mr. Sheridan came to fetch me some eight minutes later, I considered asking for more time on the cot. But, I was there to do a job and so I followed my host, at two Graham Strides, to the portion of the dig he wished me to investigate. They had already marked it off into its grid; I would have to be careful to not disturb the string as I stepped.

"We have been unable to find the Queen's Tomb, you see," Mr. Sheridan explained. "We had expected it to be here, to the east of the main tomb, but, if it is, its entrance is still hidden. I would very much like for you to find it."

"Queen's Tomb entrance. Got it," I responded, ready to begin pacing.

"And any other interesting things that you might find as you work," Mr. Sheridan added. "We would be most appreciative of other tombs, large artifacts, and burial stores."

"Sarcophagi and gold. Got it," I said.

Mr. Sheridan chuckled as I stepped off.

By now, most of the dig had stopped what they were doing and had gathered around me, though they gave be a wide berth. At any other time, being surrounded by strangers all looking at me would have freaked me out, but I was staring between my feet, not at them. Having something else to focus on was a blessing.

I stepped into the first square and looked, sensing what was in the ground beneath my feet. I saw in my mind's eye that it was the continuation of the passageway they had been excavating. I described what I saw, then I stepped into the next square. I would travel clockwise around the outside of the grid, then step inward a square to repeat the process until I reached the center.

In a few squares, the passageway made a sharp left. If it had been me, I'd have followed it, but Jeff taught me to stay in the squares. It was better for business. So, I did.

The rest of the side of the grid was devoid of human tampering. I turned to the right and stepped off again. It wasn't until I reached the next corner that anything of interest was to be found. There, I found yet another passageway. It seemed to head toward the center.

As I worked my way inward, I began to feel more and more unpleasant. First, my head began to ache. I loathed headaches. In fact, after having one for several minutes, I stopped and had Mr. Sheridan provide some water and pain medication. He insisted I drink the entire bottle of water. I remembered I was supposed to stay hydrated, and so I complied. The last thing I needed was to pass out, fall, and really break something, no exaggeration.

The pain meds didn't help, however, and I continued to feel more and more ill until, when I stepped into the last square, I doubled over in pain. I held my head as I couldn't help but see what was beneath my feet.

I became dizzy and disoriented as the vision of a vast Void, much more expansive than what could actually be contained in the space below, came to me. A feeling of dread washed over me that I didn't understand... until I saw the eyes. I desperately did not want those eyes to see me.

I made myself small, curled up into a ball, and tried not to rock. I knew it would be the last thing I would ever do if the motion caught their attention. Something, somewhere, looked after me; the eyes passed over me as if I didn't exist.

The eyes closed and then there was nothing but the Void once again.

I heard someone screaming, then realized it was me. Mr. Sheridan was standing two Graham Strides away trying to get my attention. "Dr. Graham! Dr. Graham! Are you alright? How can we help? What can we do?" he was asking, desperate to aid me.

I managed to stop screaming but then I began to hyperventilate; I knew I needed to get my breathing under control, but I simply wasn't able to. The world was too scrambled. Mr. Sheridan moved to help me up, but I warned him off with my hands.

I did the best I could. "Do not dig here. Do not dig here." I whispered to his shoes over and over.

"What was that, Dr. Graham?" he asked. He knelt down to get closer to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Do not dig here!" I shouted, right before I passed out.