After a few hours of work, she sat back in awe. Before her eyes was a version of the eleventh chapter of the Epic of Gilgamesh, written in Akkadian! The Epic was the most famous Mesopotamian literary text, and possibly the most ancient epic in the world. It dated back four thousand years. In its final form, also called Standard Akkadian Epic of Gilgamesh, edited by the incantation priest S.n-leqi-unninni sometime between 1300–1100 B.C.E., it ran on twelve tablets. The eleventh tablet was famous for recounting the story of the primordial flood. She went back to her study, picked up an English translation of the Epic of Gilgamesh and reread the story of the flood. She then looked over her translation of the tablet. It presented a strange version of the story: some passages from the usual narrative were missing and others seemed more detailed or contained new information. For instance, there were far more measurements of the ark than in the standard flood tablet. And the narration broke off during the construction of the ark, so all the descriptions of the actual flood and its aftermath, the famous scenes of Utnapishtim sending out birds to see if the waters had receded, were missing.

She sat back on her couch, thinking about the parallels between this Sumerian myth and the Biblical account of the flood and the story of Noah’s Ark. The similarities had first been pointed out by an English scholar in the 19th century. She thought of the hundreds of scholars who, since then, had pondered the differences and similarities between the two accounts. She knew one thing for certain: the tablet she was holding displayed the only version of its kind in stone.

She could of course email the proper linguists and scholarly authorities, after all, she was not a specialist in epic textual analysis. But if she kept this tablet to herself and published a proper translation and commentary, it could be her making as an academic. She would have to explain how she got hold of it in the first place, and why it was encased in a fake clay tablet, but it would be worth it. The more she reread her rough translation the more she noticed how many odd elements there were in this text. A small detail suddenly caught her eye. Why had she not noticed this earlier? The beginning of the text conformed to other versions:

Gilgamesh spoke to Utnapishtim, the Faraway:

‘I have been looking at you,

but your appearance is not strange — you are like me!

You yourself are not different — you are like me!

My mind was resolved to fight with you,

but my arm lies useless over you.

Tell me, how is it that you stand in the Assembly of the Gods,

and have found life?’

‘Utnapishtim spoke to Gilgamesh, saying:

‘I will reveal to you, Gilgamesh, a thing that is hidden, a secret of the Gods I will tell you!

But then from here something had changed. Unlike the canonical Sumerian version in which the Gods are angry because the humans make too much noise and they decide to kill them all, this text was referring to humans having turned evil. Very much like the Biblical version. But this was impossible! The text couldn’t have been inspired by the Hebrew bible as it was far more ancient. Plus she had never heard of such a typically Jewish moralistic view in an Akkadian version of the Flood. Furthermore, most stone or metal tablets were found in the foundations of temples. But this tablet was no foundation stone.

Who could she talk to about this? She could not confront Professor Almeini and explain that she had destroyed a clay tablet to get to the stone tablet. Gradually it dawned on her that by destroying the clay casing she had put herself in jeopardy. She could not talk about her find to anyone in her field. Of course, it was a fake clay tablet, whose only purpose was to conceal the stone tablet beneath, but it was still an ancient fake. In her eagerness, she had acted like an irresponsible child, against all the ethical and scientific methodology instilled in her over years of studying. She had committed the oldest sin the book: breaking something to understand it. This discovery, far from making her famous, could even turn out to be her undoing. Nurdin, the janitor, knew she had an unusual tablet, and it was only a matter of time before everyone would know she had a new unpublished tablet at the department. What a mess. She suddenly felt overcome by a wave of nausea and exhaustion.

Chapter 5

December 3rd, 2004