The next day Ian was looking at the clock in his new office. It was a digital clock, which seemed an odd choice for the otherwise classically decorated room. It currently showed 10:17, the little dots in the middle, separating the minutes from the hours, were happily blinking away, and the seconds with it. The office was, besides the clock, very cozy, with old and dark wooden furniture. The room was dominated by a large mahogany desk placed in the middle and behind it a dark leather office chair. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with classical literature, and there even was a couch, probably used more than once for a midday nap. This felt more like an old-fashioned and eccentric literature professor's office than anything else, Ian thought. Then full of anticipation, he began to work. He was going to enjoy his time here, despite the odd and obviously cheap electronic clock.
Getting set up had been a breeze. Marcus had prepared everything, so he had just shown Ian to the office and told him that he would come to get him for lunch. On the table was a docking station for his laptop, the right model, of course, a large screen, keyboard, mouse, and an access card with Ian's picture on it. Back home, it would have taken at least a week before the IT department had everything ready and another week before the access card had been coded with the correct permissions. But everything was in order, so there was nothing left to do but to start working. Reopening the email from yesterday, Ian began downloading all the scanned documents. While trivial to describe, his task was difficult, bordering on the impossible to do: Understand the texts and translate them if possible. He had discussed this at length with Amara before coming to Rome, but she had not seemed daunted by the challenge ahead of them. Even when he had insisted that he needed context, something to understand what the texts were about, and a lot of it, to have any chance at the task, she had just nodded and assured him she would help get all he needed. Marcus had told Ian that he was occupied with another project and wouldn't work directly with him. Still, there would be the typical talks and discussions between ph.d. students, even if Marcus couldn't commit time to help Ian, not right now at least.
As the downloads were completed, Ian began loading all the texts into a database and preparing scripts to do some basic statistics of the documents. He was quickly engrossed in his work and stopped only hours later when there was a knock on this door. Marcus was there to take him for lunch and apologized for being late. Looking at the digital clock, it now showed 13:57. The work had consumed his mind, and he had lost track of time. Interrupted, he was aware of just how hungry he had become. Ian followed Marcus to a nearby cafe for a simple but filling lunch. Ian had pasta and bacallá, a fish that Marcus didn't know the English name for. After yesterday and today, Ian had learned that Marcus was easy to get along with, a happy and untroubled soul. Already enjoying his company, Ian counted himself lucky for such a pleasant colleague.
During the next few days, Ian got settled into a rhythm. He would wake around 8 am, more often than not drenched in sweat. The AC of his apartment was broken, and outside, the heatwave kept up. Next, Ian took a cold shower in an attempt to ignore how horny Amara's unconventional welcome had left him. Then he headed to the office and worked mostly uninterrupted. Often eating by himself, trying different places all around the area for lunch and dinner without finding an immediate favorite. The scorching sun and the temperatures well above 30 degrees Celcius did not suit him at all, so after each meal, he hurried back to his well-cooled office.
Marcus had suggested they could stop by the Angelica Library on Thursday and see the three tomes on display there. The library was placed in an older part of Rome, about twenty minutes' walk from the university offices. As they neared the library entrance, the number of people in the street increased. At first, Ian guessed that they were tourists here to do a little sightseeing, but when they entered the library building complex, they were swept up by the masses and part of a long queue lining up to the library and the artifacts displayed there.
"This is crazy!" Ian exclaimed, overwhelmed at the size of the queue, but Marcus just smiled, "I mean, the tomes really are something unique, but that they have this wide an appeal is astounding. I could understand if this was the first day or maybe the first week, but they have on display for almost three months now, right?"
Marcus nodded at his question. "One curious fact is that they have found some kind of preserving chemical in the stones used to build the chamber that contained the tomes. That is why they are in such good condition."
"Really? Do we know if that was intentional?"
"No, I don't think it was, just a stroke of luck - a tiny miracle," Marcus laughed.
When they walked in through the old doors, the crowd's murmuring ebbed out, and calmness and silence filled the halls instead. An eerie silence, Ian thought. Slowly they neared the exhibition area, where three glass showcases each displayed a single tome. The queue led them past each of the displays in sequence. As they came near the first display, which contained an almost one-foot thick leatherbound tome, a strange sensation filled Ian. He felt strong and confident. He could take on any challenge, any opponent. Straightening his back and holding his head high, his confidence overflowed. What is going on? Ian wondered. He looked at Marcus, who had tightened his fists, each knuckle turning white, as if ready to strike his hand through the display. The tome inside the display was highlighted by a few small spotlights and opened around the middle. The first thing that struck Ian was the near-perfect condition of the artifact. This was a book hundreds of years old, but it looked almost unaffected by age. Had Marcus not told about the preserving chemicals, he would be sure he was looking at a fake. As he came closer, he could recognize the script he had been studying so intently for the last few days. It filled the left side of the book with almost no margin. As if each page had to be used to its fullest. The right-hand side made him stop dead in his tracks; a large picture filled the page, something that looked like a knight on a prancing horse in the middle of a fierce battle. Ian blinked, and when he looked again, the picture was gone. He kept staring at the page now filled with the strange symbols he was trying to decipher. In the end, the people behind him pushed him forward and out of view of the old book.
"Marcus, were there any pictures in any of the tomes?" Ian whispered, his heart still beating hard.
"Well, if there were, you would know, wouldn't you? Didn't you have access to all the scanned pages?"
"Well, I was just thinking that something might be missing."
"You know Amara, she always makes sure people do their job properly, so I doubt that is the case. I, for one, haven't seen any. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing," mumbled Ian. Seeing pictures that disappeared when you blinked was a skill he was not keen on discussing. The line moved them closer to the second book, and Ian felt a calmness spreading throughout his body and mind. It almost seemed like time itself slowed down, all worries and concerns gone, Ian just felt happy and at peace. He could stay this way forever. The serene experience made him completely forget to look at the book and only noticed when he had passed it, and the feeling waned. But then it was too late. Behind Ian, the throng of people behind them made it impossible to turn around and go back.
The tome in the last display pulled at him, and the pull got stronger as he moved closer. He had to fight a bit to resist it and not to push through the bodies before him. The tome was about the size of a typical introductory college book and the cover blazing red, the script so tiny that he could barely read it. He felt an urge to touch it, and his hand moved like it had a will of its own towards the glass. The no touching signs seemed of little importance, and his hand and arm stretched to the display. The moment his fingers touched the glass, a series of images flashed through his mind. They were images of Amara and Julia, but not ordinary portraits, nor taken from his memories of them. They were of an altogether different kind and character. Naughty, erotic, and intensely sexual in nature! Both women were naked and teasingly covering their breasts with their hands and fingers. Then the images were replaced by a vision of them in a deep embrace, their hands exploring each other's bodies. They kissed, and after that, it turned to more lewd acts. First, Julia was beneath Amara, her tongue pleasuring the newly appointed professor. Amara's body was bent backward, consumed by a violent orgasm. Then a man was tied to a bed, the two women pleasured his straining and twitching cock. He was begging them to cum, but they never pushed him too far. Was it him? Was this a vision of the future or of fantasy? Ian thought, and then everything turned dark, and he felt himself falling backward.
"Hey, Ian! Are you alright?" Marcus was shaking his shoulder to rouse him, "you just fell back. I think you fainted." A pulsing pain spread from the back of Ian's head. He must have hit it hard against the marble floor. Rubbing the sore spot and then looking at his hand, no blood at least. Slowly he got to his feet. A guard came through the mass of people investigating the commotion. Ian slowly recovered and was supported first by the guard and later by Marcus. The two students left and walked carefully back towards the offices.
"Are you sure you are alright?" Marcus asked for the fifth time, and Ian repeated for the fifth time that he just needed a bit of water, and then he would be fine.
"Man, you scared me." Marcus started when Ian was walking on his own again, then fell silent, as if looking for the courage to keep talking. "Erhm, before you passed out, did you feel the warmness from the last display too?"
"Warmness?"
