Ephraim's steps were calculated, expecting the planks of the floorboard to give up anytime—they were, after all, old and creaking; and above all else: He was worried about rodents coming out . . . those little fat tiny creatures swarming perpetually in the floor towards him in a hoard, squeaking and crawling.

Being an archeologist was a tough job. He was required to investigate historic and prehistoric sites and physical remains to understand human links to the past and to preserve ancient cultures. Archaeologists find clues about the past. They use a variety of extraction or digging techniques, they discover and they go through fossils in search of the unknown—and sometimes that meant rats, which he hated. Ephraim found joy in excavating.

Back when he was a child, he loved exploring and finding clues. He loved movies like The Mummy, King Solomon's Mine, and some Rick Riordan books like Percy Jackson and The Kane Chronicles. He thanked those forms of entertainment for giving him a push on getting a scholarship in Archeology. His parents did not like his decision and wanted him to be a doctor instead, but eventually, they gave in and simply supported; although here and there, Ephraim could hear their unwavering scold.

Archaeologists study past human activity by unearthing, recording, and interpreting bits and pieces of numerous items and sites of historical interest. They implement digging projects, informally known as digs, preserve archaeological vestiges, and collect data that assess their knowledge of the past. Excavations and job vacancies are sponsored by the Institute for Archaeologists (CIfA), national newspapers and specialist publications such as Current Archaeology or those promoted by the Council for British Archaeology (CBA).

There are numerous ways to get a job—Ephraim wanted to explore Egypt, or Greece, whose fossils are prevalent. After his graduation, he wants to explore these countries. Ephraim was one of the scholars who showed adept skills, and exceptional performances. He was certain a firm would pick him up to sign a contract right after graduation—which was just a few days from now. He had received dozens of requests, yet it did not exactly fit the job he wanted. It wasn't like one of those movies and books filled with grandeur.

Until the day of the graduation came.

"I am stationing you with a task force consisting of a researcher, a biologist, a doctor, and a former sergeant-in-arms." Says the President, as he explains how their team was entrusted with a duty to examine the desolated forensics lab at an abandoned former space station: ANDROMEDA.

"Pardon me Sir, ANDROMEDA? The space station abandoned more than fifty years ago?" Ephraim forced a smile. Space stations are not relics of any historical significance, except radioactive sites (which he would not like to visit). Space stations, abandoned or not, were modern and post-modern. They were not ancient; what would he expect to find there, an alien?

"Yes." The president says. "You are one of the Academe's brightest pupil. I believe you would find something significant in there. An object of great importance."

Ephraim smiled. "It would be an honor, Sir."

It was INDEED an honor the President came to personally assign him with a job in the blink of an eye; however, Ephraim's eyes were set to Cairo, Egypt. A friend had prepared an excavation site just for him a couple of months before, and it took an effort to do so—pulling strings here and there, talking to people, acquiring connections, et cetera. Ephraim felt dejected, but curious at the same time. Even if this wasn't his cup of tea, he was a man living by scientific lore combined with history. He dreamt of creating his book as he ventures to archeological adventures (as he liked to call it).

"ANDROMEDA, huh?" The teacher mumbles. "You're bright, but why did the President assign you that dump?"

"Pardon?"

Ephraim's Biology professor sighed.

"That place has been the excavation site the President assigns to students whose grades are below average," he says. "why did he give it to you? Such a waste of time and talent."

Ephraim frowned. "What do you mean, Professor Brindell?"

"It's an open secret." He says. "Every graduating class' inept graduates are tasked to find an 'object of great significance,' in ANDROMEDA, but we assumed the President meant he wanted them to find 'purpose'. . . as a metaphor, you know?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I care, Raim," the old professor exclaims. "You deserve better than a project like this."

By that time, Ephraim knew little.

By that time, which was now years away from now . . . or several decades, he could not quite remember how much time it passed since that fateful day . . .

He knew little of what the President meant about an object of great importance . . .

. . . and he wished he never knew.