"I want you to go to Machu Picchu," says Foxy Byzwiz Irish to Art Guy and Gus.
"You're not going to tell me there's a Last Judgment to be found there," says Art Guy.
The Byzantinist raises her eyebrows. She pulls out her hunting knife and carves an outline of the Incan ruins in a napkin, cutting straight through to the tabletop. The trio are eating pastrami rubins in a Manhattan deli.
The manager casts a warnful glance over to them - Irish shoots it straight back and then continues to carve up the table.
"It's right here," she says to Art Guy and Gus while pointing at the map, "All that remains is a Deesis. The Virgin, Christ, and John the Baptist."
"Where would they have seen that iconography?" says Gus.
"Or should you say Incanography," says our hero tastefully.
Irish raises her knife and says, "I would very much appreciate if we left the interpretation to me this time. Gus, take a camera you can hike with... Art Guy, can I trust you to bring me a beautiful, lucid description as if it were Jean Bony writing it?"
"Yep."
"Except don't try to contextualize it with a formal narrative," she says.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The bill comes to the table.
"I've got it," says Irish.
"Heavens no," says Gus, thrusting his credit card into the center of the table. He spills his water all over the Machu Picchu napkin.
"Have fun finding your way around the ruins," she says. She passes the bill on to the waiter with a bundle of cash and makes her way to the door.
"Wait - have you ever been to see this image?" says Art Guy to Irish.
"Yeah...naturally...loads of times. See you in a couple weeks." She walks out the door.
---
Irish lies in bed staring at a poster of Machu Picchu. She sighs, turns off her lamp and goes to bed. In her dreams the duo is wandering around in South America.
'Gus, where do you think Irish accents come from?' says Art Guy trying to ford the Amazon River.
'Mr. Guy, look out!' says Gus. Suddenly a school of piranhas takes our hero under the water. No sooner than this, Gus is attacked by a jaguar.
Irish awakens with her heart racing. She turns on the light and looks over toward the fireplace, above which a few woodland animals are safely mounted and stuffed. She sips a little water, turns over, and almost goes back to sleep. But then she remembers something.
She turns on her computer and shuffles her eyes past all the spam e-mails. Somewhere in the 'trash' folder she uncovers a message marked 'Save the World, pt. 2 guidelines.' She opens the attachment and scans down to the Machu Picchu section.
'When you trace the origins of Christian imagery in Incan civilization you must be at Machu Picchu in person.'
"Why!" says Irish aloud to herself.
As the reader might have gathered, F. B. Irish has not been to Machu Picchu. And for personal reasons, she has no intentions of going there. The reader may be wondering why Irish is receiving e-mails about how to save the world, in which case the suspense is working.
She taps her finger against the desk and stares down the petrified rabbit above the fireplace. It looks about five times as ferocious as it would in the wild, with an upright stance, a gaping mouth, and prickly fur.
Irish pulls up a travel website. "Dammit," she says. "Why me?"
She books the next flight to Peru.
---
"Do you know what happened to the Incans?" says Art Guy.
"Yeah, why?" says Gus.
"Nevermind."
The two of them step off the plane into the hot, wet, Peruvian air, Art Guy in a multi-pocketed hiking shirt, Gus wearing a t-shirt that depicts a collage of El Greco and Velasquez works.
(to be continued...)
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