Side Story: Professor Park's Research Journal (1)

Park Professor let out a deep sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose after pounding away at his laptop for what felt like hours. Watching him, Han Si-ha gave a wry smile and set a cup of coffee down beside him.

"Professor, take a break. I don't think I've ever seen you rest since we got back."

"Rest? You know how it is. Anthropology barely gets any funding here. We have to write these reports ahead of time if we want budget for the next dig."

"But everything we found there will be public next week anyway, right?"

"Sure, but getting the report out first makes us look better to the suits who control the budgets."

"Hmm... fair point."

"That's how we get the funding to go out again."

"True. Archaeology's full of dead ends anyway—fakes, missing pieces, you name it."

"Exactly. Finder's keepers."

Park Professor took a sip of his coffee, and Han Si-ha, sorting through stacks of documents, suddenly pulled out a printed page.

"Professor, do you really think the Niyangga site's people were the same as the ones in these graves?"

At her question, Park Professor glanced at the printout and nodded.

"High possibility. The stone tool craftsmanship and fiber processing traces are strikingly similar. No bola evidence yet, though."

"It'd be great if similar stuff turned up elsewhere."

"Yeah, if it's only from graves, it'll lack credibility."

Was the bola really used only by some exceptional group?

Park Professor didn't buy that.

It was too convenient a conclusion.

Useful tools spread.

Sharp flint edges did. Fire did. Cracking bones for marrow did. Once proven effective, techniques get mimicked, and mimicry turns to propagation.

Especially something simple and intuitive like a bola.

Three stones. Tough fibers. A throwing arm.

That was plenty.

Park Professor chuckled briefly at his laptop screen.

"If it's only from graves, critics will say it was ceremonial."

"Hunting tool turned funeral prop?"

"Yep. Someone at the conference will trot out the classics: 'Insufficient use-wear evidence.' 'Possibly symbolic.' 'Could be later disturbance.' Predictable."

"Words you hate most."

"Not hate— they're right too often. Even if ceremonial, it proves burial rites existed. Still groundbreaking."

Han Si-ha swallowed a laugh. Park Professor paused, then spoke thoughtfully.

"High probability."

He opened his mouth slowly.

"Most of those traces are probably sunk under Lake Victoria."

Han Si-ha looked up.

"Under the lake?"

"Yeah."

Park Professor tapped a paleotopography reconstruction map spread out nearby.

Lake Victoria today is one of the world's largest, but it spent more time not being a lake. Water levels fluctuated; it was likely vast wetlands, rivers, shallow pools, and forests intertwined.

Irresistible to early Homo species.

Water. Trees. Small game. Herd animals passing through. Riverbanks with cobbles for knapping, beast sinews, grass stems, bark.

Survival basics, all in one spot.

"Too vast a lake now."

Han Si-ha placed her palm over the map.

"Seventy percent of South Korea's size. Makes our country feel tiny."

"That scale? Early Homo species, still tied to forests and water, could've thrived there for ages."

Park Professor nodded.

"Problem is, it's all underwater now."

"So to find sites..."

"We dive the lake bottom."

"Whoa."

Han Si-ha whistled softly.

"Budget's gonna explode."

"Why I'm writing this report ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now."

Park Professor grinned wearily.

"One cave, a few graves? Not enough. Have to convince them this isn't quirky—it's a rewrite of paleoanthropology migration history."

He leaned back over the laptop.

The cursor blinked over an empty field.

Moments later, his fingers danced again.

"So... back to Africa? Hate the flies..."

At Han Si-ha's grumble, Park Professor smirked.

"Hey, gonna write your thesis? Get that PhD?"

"You said this dig alone gets me my doctorate."

"Ugh..."

Park Professor was stumped, briefly.

True enough. Organize this excavation properly, and her PhD was in the bag.

Graves dated ~2.5 million years old.

Fiber processing traces inside.

Intentionally arranged bones.

Hunting tool remnants beyond known tech levels.

Any one was thesis gold. This site dumped them all at once.

Blessing for academia. Nightmare for the lead researcher. Overload.

"Still."

Park Professor set down his cup.

"Degree's one thing. Eating after? Another."

"Oof, reality check."

"Scholarship starts romantic, ends in budgets."

"Depressingly profound."

"Write it down. Use it on your juniors later."

Han Si-ha snickered, grabbing a pen.

"'Scholarship starts romantic, ends in budgets.' Professor Park Jung-kyun, Day 3 post-return, caffeine overdose."

"Skip that part."

"Nope."

"Treating your advisor like a specimen."

"You treat paleo remains like that."

"I deal with the dead."

"Sometimes look at the living like they're dead-eyed."

Park Professor didn't retort. Couldn't.

Instead, he eyed the screen. Cursor still blinking.

One line.

Two.

The report built slowly.

"Professor."

Han Si-ha peered over his shoulder at the screen, hesitating.

"This okay to write?"

"What."

"'Prime candidate: bola.' Too bold?"

Park Professor nodded.

"Yep. Bold as hell."

"Then why?"

"To get read."

"Ah."

"I'll hedge later. 'Possibility,' 'candidate,' 'not excluded,' 'cautious interpretation.' Shields up."

"Academic shieldwork."

"Papers aren't swords—they're shields you shove forward."

"Quote that too?"

"Don't."

Han Si-ha snickered again.

Park Professor resumed typing.

She watched, then ventured:

"Next trip... where?"

"Kenya."

No hesitation.

Han Si-ha pictured Africa's map, nodded.

"Kenya... right above Tanzania?"

"Yeah."

Park Professor paused typing, pulled sheets from a desk pile.

"Homo erectus, H. habilis, H. rudolfensis, Paranthropus boisei. That area's a true hominin crucible."

"Crucible?"

"Yeah. Forests, grasslands, swamps, lakeshores. Environments collide. Not one species dominates—multiple adapt differently."

He handed her a printout.

Gray sediment layer pitted with impressions. At first, old animal tracks.

Han Si-ha swallowed.

"Footprints? Fossilized?"

"Right."

"Like Turkana Lake ones?"

"Similar. But this needs caution. More basin than lakeshore; seed/leaf impressions suggest dry season. ~2 million years old."

She scrutinized.

Seemed alike at first. Then differences: sole width, big toe angle, stride, heel depth.

Too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off for mere size/age/sex variance.

"Not all same species?"

Park Professor sipped coffee, silent.

Answer enough.

"No way."

Han Si-ha murmured.

"Different hominins, same spot, same era?"

"Possibility—for now."

He emphasized.

"Footprints alone can't ID species. Body size, sex, age, gait—all factors."

"But?"

"Feet too distinct. Not intra-group variation."

She flipped pages.

Stopped.

"Wait."

Dried mud with sharp, small artifact trace. Not mere flake.

Long blade. Straight back. Fiber compression at base, like wrapping.

Her face hardened.

"Stone knife?"

"You see it too?"

His voice dropped.

"Flaked blade wrapped for handle. Photo suggests."

"But hafted knives are much later—H. sapiens, Neanderthals—"

"Exactly."

Park Professor finally smiled.

Weary face. But eyes alive, strangely.

"That's the issue."

He tapped the trace.

"If real, timeline shatters. Big time."

Han Si-ha stared silently.

Moyowai graves: 2.5 mya bola traces.

Kenya: 2 mya mixed footprints, hafted stone.

Half a million years apart. Yet no coincidence.

Too many overlaps. Scholars stop calling it chance.

Park Professor's hands returned to keys.

Mystery: sweet bait dragging old scholars back to the field.

Though reeling in budget via this report came first.