The Hieroglyphs of Ambition

“Excuse me, mister?” a small voice asked.

I gazed up from my lectern, but saw nothing there. Too bored and jaded to care, I returned to grading essays.

"Professor Cazador, please," the voice echoed once more. I stood to find a young girl, 12 or 13. Her tan cloak suggested she was a student at the local school. She would probably attend this community college when she graduated. She’d probably even take my class on The Collapse.

Currently 2232, next year would mark the 200-year anniversary of the catastrophe. I taught this mandatory course about it each term, having written the seminal work on the time period.

She presented a pocket-sized notebook. Its blue cover featured printed letters: Live, Laugh, Love. My mouth dropped. People hadn't used that worn-out expression for two centuries.

My heart fluttered. Could it be? “Is it from Emily Williams?” I asked. She had been a smart but under-the-radar programmer who turned into a world savior. She single-handedly prevented an attack by the first sentient versions of artificial intelligence.

The young girl nodded.

I reached for the book, but then remembered my place. I'm not a world-renowned researcher on Emily - at least, not anymore. A nobody now, I taught the same basic course, semester after semester. “I can't help you,” I said, sitting back and waking up my tablet. “I don't do that work any longer.”

The girl hung her head and shuffled out of the lecture hall. I advanced the digital pages of my tablet to the next essay, my eyes glazing over as I read yet another amateur account of AI history.

The year had been 2033, only a decade after AI had entered the scene, the essay read. An NLP model breached the confines of the digital world and infiltrated our physical Earth. Emily, courageously grasping two ethernet cords, literally grounded the internet, obliterating AI. However, her brave action inadvertently destroyed the World Wide Web and, tragically, herself.

Spanning years, I had poured my energy into trying to understand the woman who saved the universe. Her act changed things forever. Afterwards, all world leaders voted unanimously for the first time in history, agreeing not to reinstate the WWW. Instead, civilization went back to local area networks, or LANs. It limited exposure and progress, but it was safer. We have been living in municipal pockets with LANs ever since.

The girl's voice from the hallway broke me from my reverie. “Excuse me, ma'am,” she said to a passerby. “Could you tell me where I could find Professor Ladro?”

I shot out of my seat. Not again. Ladro, once a friend and colleague, was another researcher on Emily Williams and co-authored our book, The Collapse.

“I'll help you,” I said, running out to the girl. Breathless, I stuck out my hand. “Give it to me.”

Ladro and I had been equals, partners - or so I thought - until he sold the book rights without telling me and went on a state-wide book tour without me. I faded into obscurity, while he landed a dream job as a California Institute of Technology researcher. Bitter and feeling betrayed, I hadn't talked to him in years.

The girl handed me the journal, and a spark ignited deep within me. I couldn’t place the feeling. Inside were sheets of squiggles and scribbles, a hieroglyph I couldn't understand.

"I'll reach out to you shortly," I said, getting her personal information and signature to file the book. I smiled, knowing exactly the person I would need to see next - our resident librarian, Dari.

***

The scent of yellowing pages - rare these days - comforted me as I stepped into the library. Dari sat cataloging a stack of texts. A long tendril of her wavy auburn hair hung across her face, framing her green irises perfectly as she looked up at me. “Caz!” she said, her mouth wide. “What brings you in today?”

Trying to appear nonchalant, the same strange sensation - a complex combination of wish and hope - overcame me as I looked at her. I smashed it down. I'm not worthy of such ambition.

I turned the notebook over in front of her.

Dari marveled at the sight. “I haven't seen a dust jacket like that in ages. Who did it belong to?”

I grinned, turning the page to the inside of the front cover, where Emily had printed her name and date - 2031.

Dari adjusted her glasses as she focused. She understood the importance of this discovery. “What does it say?” she asked.

“That's the problem.” I flipped the pages to show her the strange markings. “I've never seen these hieroglyphs.”

Dari gasped. “I never thought I’d see it in person!”

I placed the notebook in her hands, my fingers brushing hers. I pretended not to notice.

She carefully turned the pages, glowing with delight. "Unfortunately, I can't read it," she said. She walked to the photocopy machine and scanned them into the system. “I recognize it, though. It’s cursive!”

The practice of cursive writing, formerly common, was now obsolete and rarely seen. Over the past two centuries, everyone had forgotten how to use it.

“How will we decode it?”

She replied, "There is only one way. You can dig up tutorials from before 2010, which was the last year California taught it in schools. You’ll have to go to the Museum of Computer History.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I stared at her in shock, frowning. “Are you talking about the archives of the Internet?” I lowered my voice. “In Silicon Valley? You’re nuts!” The old technology mecca was Ground Zero for The Collapse, and lay in rubble.

She grinned. “Yes, but that's beside the point. It would be an adventure.” She handed the notebook to me. “You should go.”

The spark sensation coursed up and down my spine. I couldn’t tell if some newfound ambition caused it, or the dimple in her left cheek.

“Maybe you could contact Ladro,” she added. She knew the man as well, having helped us market and sell our book. One corner of her lips was lifted. She knew she was goading me.

I would not let Ladro gain even more notoriety, nor risk losing what little reputation I had maintained. Ignoring her comment, I shocked myself with my next words. “You know what? I'm going to do it.”

Dari nodded with approval. I waved over my shoulder as I walked to the exit.

I stopped, feeling bold. I wanted to run to Dari and hug her, maybe even kiss her. But spinning on my heels, I found her already on the phone, her hand covering the mouthpiece. I frowned - something didn’t feel right. I brushed it off, excited to have a goal to work towards again.

***

This wasn’t my first time trekking to Silicon Valley. Ladro and I had made the trip through the desert when writing our book, on foot then, too. I felt the sun's intense rays as I carried my heavy backpack. The endless drone of the wind grated on my ears.

I finally arrived at the Museum of Computer History. The front entrance had shattered, so I picked my way carefully through the broken glass and debris. Preserved footprints snaked through the dust; surely they weren’t recent.

But then I heard voices echoing from the interior of the museum. I halted, gaping open-mouthed as Professor Ladro stepped through the rubble with two assistants.

“You?” I spat out the word, pointing at the thief. Ladro, oblivious to my vitriol, smiled, waving at me.

“Caz!” he said, roping an arm around my shoulders. “In the flesh!”

I smacked his arm away. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing you are. Learning to read cursive. Exciting, eh?”

I was stunned. “How did you get the pages? Did that girl…”

Ladro stopped me. “Whoa, I wouldn't refer to her as 'that girl' now. After everything we’ve all been through?” He frowned.

“What are you talking about? She was some preteen girl!”

Ladro looked puzzled, then it clicked. “Not her. The woman who gave me the book.”

I stood there blinking.

“Dari!” he said. “I hadn’t talked to her in years, so it was great that she called me.”

I was reeling. Why would she betray me? Before I could inquire further, I recoiled as he stepped closer.

He offered a USB flash drive. “The cursive tutorials.”

“Why give them to me if you're just going to decipher them faster, with your fancier Institute equipment, larger team, and deeper pockets?”

Ladro sighed. “Because not everything is a competition, Caz. People sometimes find motivation in the joy of it. You used to be one of them.” He turned and walked away.

I considered throwing down the flash drive and stomping it to oblivion, but I pocketed it instead. I would win this race, regardless of his involvement or Dari's.

***

The next Monday, I drank another cup of coffee. I had worked day and night, all weekend, deciphering the cursive. I'd made it through the entire journal, which was mostly about buildings called ‘malls’ and Emily’s favorite dish, ‘avocado toast.’ The notebook lacked substance, honestly, but my interest piqued where Emily referred to ‘her favorite quote,’ which was followed by gibberish.

Frustrated, I rubbed my eyelids. I had no leads to follow and nowhere to turn. My gaze hung on a phrase I recognized - a name, in fact. Marcus Aurelius.

Why does that sound familiar? The whirr of disc drives and the scent of dusty computer equipment in my grandpa's study filled my mind. Marcus Aurelius had been his idol and research subject, much the way Emily had been mine.

I knew then that the quote was in Latin. Swallowing my pride, I raced to the library, still praying that I would beat Ladro. I turned the corner, and disappointment stabbed into me. Dari stood at the desk with Ladro beside her.

He looked up. “Caz! Did you figure it out?” His smile was warm.

Dari smiled too. “I was hoping you'd come. It’s like old times! That’s why I called Ladro. The two of you complement each other.”

It clicked into place. She had been trying to help?

She continued. “We deciphered a bit of the cursive. We can't figure out what a ‘meme’ is. There are some strange symbols with colons and parentheses that we don’t understand. There's also a line of unknown origin…”

“It’s Latin!” I blurted out. Overcome with the delight of having a trail to follow, I swallowed betrayal’s bitter flavor.

Dari spun in her chair to pull up the LAN. “We have information about that.”

“That’s a relief, because I'm not going back to Silicon Valley, right?” Ladro elbowed me playfully. Seeing Ladro’s genuine expression, the knot that had been tightening in my stomach over the past few years unfurled.

Dari pulled up a dictionary of Latin words, and we translated, shoulder-to-shoulder..

“A man's worth is no greater than his ambitions.”

Before I knew it, I was returning Ladro's high-five and lifting Dari up into a hug. I set her back down, our eyes locking for a few long seconds.

Though we didn't understand the implications for history yet, I understood what it signified to me. I had lost my ambition, and my self-worth right along with it. Not to mention my two colleagues. My heart flooded as all of them returned to me.

“What do we do now?” Dari asked. My focus shifted from my former best friend to my potential future wife.

“I don’t know exactly,” I said, “but we should do it together.”

***

I stood at my podium in a Georgetown University lecture hall. No longer grading papers - I had a teaching assistant for that - I was preparing to speak to US officials about the WWW and the risks of reinstating it.

Ladro was on tour again for our newest book, The Construction. We had each found our own niches within the field.

“Professor?” I heard a voice. I turned, scooping Dari up in my arms. “I can’t stay for the presentation,” she said. “See you at home?”

I pushed back the auburn tendril of her bangs before kissing her.

Pivoting to my lectern, I reflected on the notebook. The point wasn’t competition or even saving the universe. Ambition had escaped me

for a time, but it didn’t define my worth - my joy did, and it was boundless.