Library of Alexandria
Chapter 10
Everyone took showers. As Michael finished his shower first, he designated himself as the chef for breakfast. He was well gifted in creating amazing omelets that melt in your mouth. Unsure if there were dietary restrictions for Doug, he plunged ahead and created a ham and cheese omelet with sautéed mushrooms and onions. He made side dishes of bacon, hash browns, and orange juice. The coffee was already brewing. At the last minute, he decided that he'd put a banana at each plate as well as cut up apples. If they didn't use them, he's put them in a fruit salad for their lunch.
Doug was ravenous and ate everything offered to him. He wanted to work out, but there was no space in the condominium to do that. He thought about a local gym, but that would take him away from his charges. So, Doug suggested that they go together to the gym and workout before Doug went to bed. They agreed to his suggestion and had a good work out. While there, they pressed Doug to see how much interest he had in Colin, the rugby player. Doug's deep blush told them what they needed to know.
With Doug tucked into bed, they called Colin in the late afternoon and asked him if he'd like to take a few minutes and service Doug. He pounced on the opportunity. Colin arrived at the appointed hour and was welcomed inside. "I haven't heard Doug stirring yet, but as soon as we do, that'll be your cue to work your magic on him," John said with a knowing grin.
"He's a hot fuck," Michael added. "You won't regret your time with him."
Michael was the first to hear noise from Doug's bedroom. "It sounds like a drawer opening and closing," John observed.
Colin got up and rapped on the bedroom door. Then, invited himself in. The door closed behind him. Several minutes of silence ensued. Rumblings of conversation could be heard, but not discerned. Michael got up and listened at the door. With a wide grin, he walked back to where John was sitting. "Sound like they're sucking dick or eating wet ass. I don't think they're fucking yet."
"I could use a blowjob, too," John suggested. Quickly, they ripped off their clothes and joined together in a 69 position. Moments later, they had exchanged sperm and got dressed again. As they regained their seats, they heard the unmistakable shouts of a shattering climax. It was soon followed by more, deeper shouts of another climax.
John and Michael smiled at each other. "Mission accomplished," Michael quipped.
They discussed dinner and decided on steak, baked potatoes, and a salad for dinner. Of course, they invited Colin. After dinner, Michael and John cleared the table and started on the dishes. Colin and Doug offered to help, but they shooed them out of the kitchen. A few minutes later, Michael looked around. "Where'd they go?"
John smiled. "They ducked into Doug's bedroom right after we told them to get out of the kitchen."
"They seem to be enjoying each other's company," Michael observed with a leer.
When the two men came out of the bedroom, both were disheveled in the extreme. Even their clothes were hanging wrong, their hair was a mess, and their lips and mouths were red from friction. Colin walked gingerly, like he'd been fucked to death. However, both men had big smiles, so they obviously had a very good time.
Sunday morning, Michael and John got up early. Doug had heard them in the shower, so he made breakfast for them. The Sunday news shows were starting as they gathered around the wide-screen television. "I'm sure he'll do very well," Michael said nervously.
"He'll be fine," John countered in a relaxed tone. "He's the best."
Good questions were asked and brilliant answers given in the first two shows. But, the fireworks were spectacular when the Faux News program started. The moderator welcomed everyone and began with a summary of what Mr. Asquith had said in the presentation earlier in the week. He introduced the guests and started with Mr. Asquith, asking if he (the moderator) got it right. Mr. Asquith nodded his head. He asked another question, but Mr. Asquith deferred the question by asking another one of the panel members.
"I'm trying to establish a baseline of understanding and knowledge before we talk about Atlantis," Mr. Asquith began. "Does anyone dispute that the speed of sound is measurable and at sea level is about 768 miles per hour?" The other three panelists shook their heads. "And the speed of light is also a known quantity and has been measured at about 186,000 miles per second, give or take a few hundred miles per second?" Again, he got agreement from the panel. "One final question," he smiled. "Does anyone dispute that the universe is about 13.8 billion years old and that our earth and solar system are about 4.5 billion years old?"
That got an immediate response from the man who had been introduced as Dr. James, a minister. "The Bible clearly shows that the earth and the heavens were created within days of each other. Calculating that event to the present day yields a number of about 6,000 years," he stated with a self-satisfied smile.
"Is that so?" Mr. Asquith nearly snarled. "This is a picture of the summer night sky." A picture of the Milky Way and other stars and galaxies filled the screen. "Do you dispute that this is the night sky in the northern hemisphere in the summer?"
The minister looked at the picture for a moment, and then nodded his agreement. "Yes, the constellations are clear enough," he allowed.
"Yet, you insist that the universe and earth are only 6,000 years old. Be careful how you answer this, because you have already agreed to the speed of light," Mr. Asquith smiled sweetly. Michael and John knew where this was headed. They had seen that smile before and knew he had his adversary in a logic trap from which there was no escape.
"Yes, yes," Dr. James said impatiently. "I already stipulated to that."
"That being the case, this is what the universe looks like from earth, IF the earth AND the universe were only 6,000 years old." He nodded and another picture of the night sky bloomed on to the screen. The stars were scattered, constellations had disappeared, and the sky looked nearly empty. "And from another perspective, this is the entire universe we'd see, instead of what we really see." Two pictures appeared on the screen side by side, showing the universe at only 6,000 years old and the universe at 13.8 billion years old. One picture filled the frame, the one depicting 6,000 years of existence was but a small corner in a large, dark background. "So, either the speed of light isn't correct (which even you don't dispute) or your characterization of the age of the earth is wrong."
"The Bible is correct. The earth is 6,000 years old," the minister stubbornly insisted.
"Ignorance can be fixed with education, but arrogant stupidity can't. Mr. Moderator," Mr. Asquith said turning and looking directly at the show's emcee, "there is no way to have a reasoned and reasoning discussion about anything with this person. Either he leaves the panel or I do."
The moderator blanched. Mr. Asquith gathered up his papers as if he were prepared to leave. "You've put me in a very awkward situation," the emcee said. "Be reasonable, Sir."
"I am a very reasonable man. Dr. James is NOT reasonable or capable of reason. So, you still have your choice to make," Mr. Asquith smiled. "We did have an agreement with this program about this."
The other two people on the panel looked back and forth between the minister and the moderator. They shrugged, unwilling to defend the position of Dr. James.
"Uh, let's take a commercial break and resolve this issue," the moderator smiled sourly at the television camera. The screen went blank for a moment and then a string of commercials followed. When they came back on the air, the emcee looked embarrassed. "Dr. James had kindly agreed to depart. He will join us at a later date."
"They had to keep their bigoted viewers," John pronounced, "but, they couldn't let the show fold with nothing to say for the next hour."
"They probably offered Dr. James a guest appearance on one of their opinion shows where he can vent his spleen about Mr. Asquith and the impossibility of Atlantis existing because the earth and universe are only 6,000 years old," Michael agree. "All he'll really do is demonstrate his arrogant stupidity again."
"Lack of logic seems to be his strong suit," Doug chimed in.
Returning to the show, Mr. Asquith acquitted himself again with brilliant responses to the conservative panelists. They did their best to trip him up, but were unsuccessful. The others pressed particularly hard on the scientific discoveries and capabilities of such an ancient people as told by the chroniclers of Atlantis. He responded that Western Civilization had been making truly scientific advances for only the last 600 years. The Atlanteans had nearly 8000 years to get it right. And they had help. The other questions were just as tough, but his reasonable responses left them unable to return fire again. The show was a triumph for Mr. Asquith and Atlantis and a shellacking of the opposition.
The rest of the Sunday morning shows were anti-climactic. John called Mr. Asquith's estate to congratulate him on his appearance. A message was taken as the boss wasn't back from the studios yet. "I'm sure he'll be pleased to get your message," the assistant said.
"And this is when the crazies start coming out," Doug sighed. "We'll have to be on high alert for at least the next week. I'll be conferencing with my boss about any threats or rumors of threats. I'll keep you posted," he added.
As it turned out, the threats did happen, but nothing tangible transpired. With another two weeks, everything was back to normal. The need for security had passed, so Michael and John had their home back. Colin and Doug hooked up several more times when their schedules allowed. And the boys were frequent guests at Colin's condo when Doug came for dinner. They always left early so that Doug and Colin could breed.
By the end of the next month, Mr. Asquith had received proposals from television production companies and several movie production enterprises. The television treatments were read, but then put into one stack and generally ignored. Their approach was episodic which would help cover the long period of Atlantean history, but there was no guarantee that their shows would last long enough to give fair treatment to all of that history. The mini-series proposals had more promise, but seemed rushed. Besides, the budget looked far too small to truly tell the Atlantean story.
That left the movie script outlines. Four of the proposals were from studios that had an excellent track record for producing blockbuster movies with remarkably good sequels. The most intriguing proposal suggested eight movies, each one covering approximately 1,000 years. The focus in the first movie would be on the aliens that helped create Atlantis. The enclosed script outline made a lot of sense for the first movie. It showed the general direction of the series without giving anything away. It left the reader wanting more. Later sequels would concentrate on the Atlanteans with only minor roles for the aliens. The final movie would include a climactic space battle as well as the attempt to flee from a doomed Atlantis.
The other three studios wanted to make a quick buck out of Atlantis. They wanted to do the full history in one film. They promised lots of special effects and A-list actors. Their budgets were impressive, but the script outlines were lacking in direction and cohesion. Mr. Asquith was underwhelmed as were the rest of the reviewers.
"I suggest we bring in someone from the film industry and ask for their opinion," John proposed. "It has to be someone with a track record of being right and insightful."
"Do you have someone in mind?" Mr. Asquith asked.
"Uh, no," John sighed.
Dr. Steele chimed in. "I do," she said. "My brother is a Hollywood insider who could suggest someone that will fit the bill."
"I'll leave it in your capable hands, then," Mr. Asquith smiled.
Two days later, they had a name and a phone number. During the conference call with him, the group determined that he was the perfect man for the job. He had the right contacts and the perfect experience to help Mr. Asquith make his final decision about awarding a contract for a movie about Atlantis.
On Thursday, he flew into the city airport and was picked up in a limousine from the estate. He was escorted into the conference room and introduced to the principals of the Atlantis group. Michael's and John's gaydar went off instantly. They smiled knowingly to each other and glanced back at the man they'd just met. His name was Shane Jacobi. And he held their gazes and handshakes a little longer than usual.
Mr. Asquith began the meeting by telling Shane what they needed to help make a decision on which movie studio to award the contract to. After Shane reviewed the four proposals, he asked if there were others from television networks or other media. Mr. Asquith produced them, but Shane speed read through all of them, and tossed them aside. "The four you've selected are the best of the bunch," he finally agreed. "However, I haven't had a chance to read the full text of your Atlantis discovery, so I'm not sure which studio will do a better job on this. This first one, though, seems to really know what they're doing and has an excellent track record. The director is the best for this kind of film."
"How much time do you need to finish reading the full text?" Michael asked.
"I have an open-ended plane ticket, so there is no time-line on my side. Did you have some deadline you were working toward?" he asked Mr. Asquith.
"I assume that sooner would be better than later," he replied.
"The four studios that are the finalists probably have a number of people lined in tentatively to be part of the production," Shane revealed. "But, those tentative agreements are only good for two to four weeks, depending on who they are trying to sign."
"We received the proposals on the day of the deadline, which was Tuesday," Michael said. "They are good for 30 days, but I hear your concern. So, as Mr. Asquith pointed out, the sooner, the better."
"Would you prefer the full text in electronic form or on paper," Michael questioned.
"Paper. I can make notes in the margin far faster than with an electronic version," Shane answered. "If I have questions, whom should I ask?"
"Any of the principals in this room could answer your questions about Atlantis," Mr. Asquith said.
"I don't need all of you here, watching me read," he laughed. "But, one or two would be adequate. Or you can just tell me where you'll be and I'll look for you."
John and Michael looked at Mr. Asquith and smiled. That was a signal he was used to. "Michael and John would be available right now. They are both excellent linguists and know everything there is to know that we've discovered so far about Atlantis." Drs. Steele and Abernethy looked disappointed, but knew they had other duties that they'd fallen behind on.
"In case we get in trouble," John cautioned, "where will you two be?"
"In the special library with the scrolls and tablets that haven't been read yet," answered Dr. Steele. "You never know when we might discover another mislabeled or unmarked scroll that will shed additional light on the Atlantis legend."
Michael and John remained in the conference room with Shane. "Do you have accommodations for your stay with us?" John asked.
"I have a reservation at the Hilton."
"That doesn't sound like a lot of fun," Michael observed. "You need access to us, in case you have questions during the evening or this weekend if it takes that long." He glanced over at John who was already agreeing with him. "So, stay with us. We have an extra bedroom all set up for you. You won't be in our way and we'll stay out of your way, as much as you need."
"That's very gracious of you, but I wouldn't think of imposing on you," Shane responded.
"Go ahead. Think about it," John smiled. "We think you'll be more comfortable with us than at a hotel. Besides, we'll be saving our boss some money by not having to pay for your hotel room. And he won't have to have a car available to you, so you can be ferried back and forth between the hotel and the estate. We'll provide the transportation."
"There's no way I can turn down an offer that saves the boss money," Shane laughed.
"I'm pleased that's settled," Michael said. "So, just how much of the text have you read?"
Shane smiled sheepishly. "I've only read a summary on the plane. So, I'm sure a lot was left out. This was a really quick decision to come up here after I got a call from Mr. Steele. He does have a family resemblance to Dr. Steele."
Michael looked around the conference room for a stray copy of the complete manuscript. He spotted one on the credenza behind them. He brought it back to the table and placed it in front of Shane. "Could we rustle up something to drink or even lunch?" John asked.
"Sure, what are you offering?" Shane smiled.
"Uh, that's for later," Michael laughed.
"The kitchen can provide anything you want," John interrupted before they went too far down that road. "They're excellent chefs."
Shane thought a moment. "How about a small salad, a turkey sandwich, and some kind of side dish with fruit in it? And to drink, I'll take a glass of white wine to go with the turkey."
"Done," John said. "We haven't had lunch either, so do you mind if we join you?"
"Not at all."
"What would you like, Michael?" John asked.
"They make the most amazing croquet monsieur," he answered. "If it isn't too much trouble, I'll have that, with a glass of wine and a salad. It'll take an orange and an apple on the side."
"That sounds so much better than what I ordered," Shane acknowledged. "If they can swing it, I'd like the same."
"Okay," John smiled and left the room.
"So, you're a couple?" Shane asked.
"Yeah, three years now."
"You're so lucky to have each other and you seem just perfect for each other."
"How did you meet?"
Michael gave him an abbreviated version and then asked Shane about his romantic involvements. Shane had lost a lover to the bug and had a string of short relationships that went nowhere. He'd been lucky though. Even though he and his lover had fucked a lot, Shane had always been the top and has never contracted the virus. He asked point-blank about their status. Michael assured him that they were both negative. "And it's been ages since I've been fucked and even longer since I rode a dick bareback. But, I also love to fuck and nutt deep in a hungry manhole," he revealed, putting all his cards on the table. "Are you both versatile or stuck in one mode?"
"Versatile. There's no way I'd not want that big dick of John's up my butt as often as I can get it. And he loves my Italian sausage breeding him. So, we are pretty close to 50-50."
The conference door opened and John walked in with a food trolley loaded with three trays of food and drink. "The great provider is here! Did I miss anything important?" he asked.
"Well, there is confirmation that our gaydar works," Michael smiled.
"And I look forward to bedding down with both of you," Shane grinned back, "and getting bred bareback. Repeatedly."
The boys laughed at that characterization. "Meanwhile, let's eat," Michael directed.
They chatted about everything and nothing, before they got back to the task assigned. Shane took an hour to read the translation, furiously writing notes in the margin as he flipped pages rapidly. He had read so many scripts that he had taught himself how to speed read, yet maintain an understanding of the details he'd just read.
"Now that I have a better understanding of the scope of the Atlantean tale, I have to wonder if a couple of those production companies read only the summary and not the full text," Shane said. "They couldn't have made those lame proposals, if they had read the full translation."
"So, that leaves two possible studios still in the running," Michael surmised.
Shane nodded. "However, the breadth of the tale to be told and the millennia that it covers can't be told in one movie. Too much would be left out. It seems to me that the only real choice is the studio that wants a multi-movie deal," he concluded. "Let me look at their proposed contracts. I'm sure it's one of their boiler-plate contracts that grants them all rights and leaves you with nothing."
John passed him the appropriate contract and sat back. "I know that Mr. Asquith has a cadre of top-flight lawyers who will go over this with a fine-toothed comb," John suggested.
"If they aren't entertainment industry lawyers, they won't have a clue what they're reading, nor will they know where the trapdoors and tar pits are," Shane warned. "Let me make some notes and suggestions in the margins of their proposed contracts. You can run it by your boss and his lawyers and then see what they have to say afterwards."
"How long with that take?" Michael asked.
"I should have my ideas fleshed out by noon tomorrow, unless you keep me up all night," he smiled lecherously.
"We'll do what we can," John smiled right back. "Mr. Asquith's lawyers are used to Saturday and Sunday calls from him. So, if you don't finish Friday, the weekend is still a possibility."
"No one likes to work weekends, so I'll do what I can to get it done quickly."
"What kind of changes do you have in mind?" John wondered.
"The standard contract calls for you to be paid a percentage of the net profits. After their fancy accounting, you'll be left with next to nothing. And they left out any references to games and toys as well as a deafening silence concerning income from television and other media showings. They're so duplicitous, I'm surprised they didn't just give you a percentage of the net for domestic theaters only," Shane snarled. "But, if they want the screen rights bad enough, you are in the driver's seat and they'll agree to terms far more favorable to you. They won't want a golden goose like this going to another studio."
"I think we should ask Mr. Asquith to join us so that he agrees to where we seem to be headed," Michael proposed. Moments later, the boss was in the room. He nodded with understanding at the points Shane was making and agreed that he should substitute his language for the boiler-plate contract that Mr. Asquith had been sent for the movie rights.
"And for a movie like this, just what is the going rate for a percentage of the gross?" Mr. Asquith asked. Shane quoted a number and added that he thought the movie series would easily gross in the billions, plus additional income from television showings, toys, games, etc. "That's what I wanted to hear. The education fund will be well endowed with that kind of money."
When Mr. Asquith left, Shane asked, "He's not keeping it for himself to defray the expenses of the dig, plus all the staff hired to translate the finds?"
John smiled. "He has more money that he could spend in a thousand lifetimes. He wants to do something about the ignorance that permeates this planet. He wants to build and staff schools across the world."
"That's a tall order," Shane surmised. "With all of the deliberate stupidity being dished out by governments and crazy media outlets, he may not have enough to make a difference."
"With the right curricula, you'd be surprised how quickly knowledge can replace ignorance," Michael said. "He already has staff here working on that. Besides, he knows a lot of people with very deep pockets who would add some of their millions to his education pot."
The remainder of the afternoon they spent making notations and suggestions for contract changes. They broke away for dinner with Mr. Asquith, finished up their work and left for the day.
While Michael and John prepared a late-night snack, Shane typed furiously away at a computer, adding and deleting contract terms. Before bedtime, he was finished and printed it off for their review. There were a couple of typos which were easily fixed. "I'll send this off as an attachment to my e-mail explaining what it is to the boss. It'll be up to him to decide if he has additional questions before it goes off to his lawyers. That's when the really hard work begins."
"And the lawyers for the studio will be hard-nosed about this," Shane said. "But, I know they really want this project, so I think they'll come around, if Mr. Asquith's lawyers hold firm. All you have to do is remind the studio that others are interested in the project and are far more reasonable," he smiled. "A good bluff when you hold all the cards always works against those guys."
"What about holding them to the narrative that's in the Atlantean documents?" John asked.
"I don't recommend that. They want artistic license to do what they think moves the film along and tells a compelling tale," Shane said. "History can be pretty dry, even when it is about Atlantis. You want this film to succeed, so that sequels will be worth doing. However, I do recommend that you have them agree to have someone on set giving them technical assistance about the exact nature of what the text says and doesn't say. But, that person or persons will not have veto power."
Michael's cell phone rang. Mr. Asquith was on the line. Michael put him on speaker. "You've done excellent work, gentlemen," he began. "I'll review it tonight and send it off to my lawyers. I'm sure they'll want to massage it, but I'll run it by you before I agree with any changes. And Shane, I want you to sit down with them after we have a finished contract at our end. They need your experience in dealing with these sharks in Hollywood."
"I'll be happy to help out, Sir," Shane responded.
"I'll remind my legal team that time is of the essence, so I don't want any dawdling," Mr. Asquith announced firmly. "They work for me, so they'll do what I ask, or I'll find other lawyers. There are a lot of very qualified firms in town who would be happy to have my business." Michael was sure that Mr. Asquith had mentioned that to them a few times when he wanted quick action on a legal matter. One way or another, Mr. Asquith always got his way.
After they broke the connection, John said, "He'll have them on it first thing tomorrow morning."
"Or he could send it off to the managing partner tonight," Michael reminded him. "If Mr. Asquith wants to impress on them how important this is, that lawyer will be on it tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if we are called into a conference with them by noon."
"Wow! He does work fast," Shane marveled.
"And so do we," John smiled and moved in to kiss Shane on the lips while Michael began massaging Shane's crotch. The bedroom with the California king bed in the master bedroom beckoned.
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