The reaction from the scientists, soldiers, and assembled mercantile interests is stunned disbelief. Is this a joke? A metaphor for some more subtle process?

Then the journalists remember their jobs and start shouting questions from behind their velvet rope.

"Permit me to explain," the doctor says, her soft voice enhanced by an amplifier attached to the balcony railing. She waits for silence. In seconds, there are only the sounds of machines.

"As we have learned through geological and astronomical analysis, our world dates back roughly eleven thousand years, to its formation by the so-called Icons."

The theologian Stralchus seems ready to dispute the words "so-called," but Dr. Sabbatine keeps talking: "The work of the Icons has left distinct traces throughout history. You are no doubt familiar with the discovery of X-rays reported by Dr. Kattan of Alexandria. The work of the Icons has left similar emanations, emanations I have learned to detect—and to follow."

There's some polite throat-clearing from the scientists. The lights flicker back on, revealing a middle-aged man with dark skin and an old, stained suit.

"Ah yes," Dr. Sabbatine says, "Dr. Kattan the Younger. I called you here to organize the scientific branch of my expedition because your father's research—"

"—does not imply anything about the Icons," the younger Dr. Kattan says, breezily speaking over his elder, "let alone…" He scoffs. "…time travel. In fact—"

"I have seen it." A deep, hollow voice, like a funeral bell: Stralchus. "I have seen the beginning."

Nearby, Alexius raises an eloquent eyebrow as if inviting your opinion of all this.