Translation

Constance took a deep breath before she began to speak. "Nothing is wrong with the structure or operational stability of the museum. The problem is that we jumped the gun on the art exhibit for the Artifacts of El before we understood the writings we currently have under glass in our care." The Board sat in stunned silence. "Functional translations for the City of El are now complete; it was a corrected bill of sale - a market receipt - that provided field linguists with a crosswalk between El and Churr (its neighbor to the south). That's all of the good news I have, I'm afraid." Looks of worry and shock spread. "The City of El did not migrate and was not emptied due to any natural calamity. El held as its highest purpose the cultivation of intellectual prowess and a growth principle that is close to our definition of "enlightenment"; it interacted very little with those it deemed "urltud" (which we now know is "stupid vapid selfish rough"). After the High Reign of El, its neighbors banded together secretly to complete a genocide after decades of bearing the insult of El's judgment, but proving El right in the slaughter. Without El to negotiate for them in a broader context with the encroaching external world, however, they quickly fell in succession through colonization. El remained empty, with the surrounding occupiers fearful that the land was cursed. The land is not cursed, however, but the artifacts are." One of the Board members whispered, "Oh my gawd." "The Scrolls of El are a catalog of pronouncements through which the keepers of the city are imbued with the divine right to curse the ridiculous and unworthy," Constance continued. "The ghosts of El are seeking perfection and have no tolerance for willful ignorance, violence without provocation, and negligence of spirit." "Mother of ...," the Board Chair started (and then caught himself). "How many places has the exhibit stopped already?" "Four," Constance shared, "and all four sites have had to close for repairs." "Can we box it up? Send it on or send it back?" came the next question. "If anyone could be persuaded to touch the items," she explained, "and no one will." "How long is it here?" one of the directors whispered, afraid. "Twelve weeks," Constance answered, looking down. "Twelve very, very long weeks."