Millennia have passed since you first called me archaeology. I no longer require your stone gods, your ruins with legible inscriptions. Show me your whatever and I'll tell you who you were.

On this third planet from the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is Number One.

Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.

The going's rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sor…