Dedicated to all those searchers past, present and future and to those humble ones whom have launched arm-chair expeditions in search of Franklin and his men.
Part One The Journal
I’m afraid I wasn’t very polite about it. Aside from a dutiful expensive gift from parents, uncle and his doting wife, I wasn’t experienced in receiving gifts. Etiquette, I mean.
“For you,” Dr. P said an object wrapped in shiny aluminum computer packaging was handed to me. Barcode ID, the works. Obviously, the wrapping came from the receptionist’s wastebasket.
I peeled the slick plastic back to reveal a light brown bound quarto-size book. Just to make sure I flipped past the leather cover - was it real leather? My fingertip sensors stroked the soft cover. The corners were imitation brass squares and the center had an intertwined gold squiggle. Meaningless ornamentation. “A blank book?” I puzzled aloud, impassively studying the empty sheets. “What am I supposed to do with this?” There was a certificate of authenticity tag sticking out of page 104.