Date: Fri, 20 Feb 2015 08:41:04 -0800
From: John Black <blackhunk33@gmail.com>
Subject: Library of Alexandria, Chapter 10

Library of Alexandria

Chapter 10


	Everyone took showers.  As Michael finished his shower first, he
designated himself as the chef for breakfast.  He was well gifted in
creating amazing omelets that melt in your mouth.  Unsure if there were
dietary restrictions for Doug, he plunged ahead and created a ham and
cheese omelet with sautéed mushrooms and onions.  He made side dishes of
bacon, hash browns, and orange juice.  The coffee was already brewing.  At
the last minute, he decided that he'd put a banana at each plate as well as
cut up apples.  If they didn't use them, he's put them in a fruit salad for
their lunch.

	Doug was ravenous and ate everything offered to him.  He wanted to
work out, but there was no space in the condominium to do that.  He thought
about a local gym, but that would take him away from his charges.  So, Doug
suggested that they go together to the gym and workout before Doug went to
bed.  They agreed to his suggestion and had a good work out.  While there,
they pressed Doug to see how much interest he had in Colin, the rugby
player.  Doug's deep blush told them what they needed to know.

	With Doug tucked into bed, they called Colin in the late afternoon
and asked him if he'd like to take a few minutes and service Doug.  He
pounced on the opportunity.  Colin arrived at the appointed hour and was
welcomed inside.  "I haven't heard Doug stirring yet, but as soon as we do,
that'll be your cue to work your magic on him," John said with a knowing
grin.

	"He's a hot fuck," Michael added.  "You won't regret your time with
him."

	Michael was the first to hear noise from Doug's bedroom.  "It
sounds like a drawer opening and closing," John observed.

	Colin got up and rapped on the bedroom door.  Then, invited himself
in.  The door closed behind him.  Several minutes of silence ensued.
Rumblings of conversation could be heard, but not discerned.  Michael got
up and listened at the door.  With a wide grin, he walked back to where
John was sitting.  "Sound like they're sucking dick or eating wet ass.  I
don't think they're fucking yet."

	"I could use a blowjob, too," John suggested.  Quickly, they ripped
off their clothes and joined together in a 69 position.  Moments later,
they had exchanged sperm and got dressed again.  As they regained their
seats, they heard the unmistakable shouts of a shattering climax.  It was
soon followed by more, deeper shouts of another climax.

	John and Michael smiled at each other.  "Mission accomplished,"
Michael quipped.

	They discussed dinner and decided on steak, baked potatoes, and a
salad for dinner.  Of course, they invited Colin.  After dinner, Michael
and John cleared the table and started on the dishes.  Colin and Doug
offered to help, but they shooed them out of the kitchen.  A few minutes
later, Michael looked around.  "Where'd they go?"

	John smiled.  "They ducked into Doug's bedroom right after we told
them to get out of the kitchen."

	"They seem to be enjoying each other's company," Michael observed
with a leer.

	When the two men came out of the bedroom, both were disheveled in
the extreme.  Even their clothes were hanging wrong, their hair was a mess,
and their lips and mouths were red from friction.  Colin walked gingerly,
like he'd been fucked to death.  However, both men had big smiles, so they
obviously had a very good time.

	Sunday morning, Michael and John got up early.  Doug had heard them
in the shower, so he made breakfast for them.  The Sunday news shows were
starting as they gathered around the wide-screen television.  "I'm sure
he'll do very well," Michael said nervously.

	"He'll be fine," John countered in a relaxed tone.  "He's the
best."

	Good questions were asked and brilliant answers given in the first
two shows.  But, the fireworks were spectacular when the Faux News program
started.  The moderator welcomed everyone and began with a summary of what
Mr. Asquith had said in the presentation earlier in the week.  He
introduced the guests and started with Mr. Asquith, asking if he (the
moderator) got it right.  Mr. Asquith nodded his head.  He asked another
question, but Mr. Asquith deferred the question by asking another one of
the panel members.

	"I'm trying to establish a baseline of understanding and knowledge
before we talk about Atlantis," Mr. Asquith began.  "Does anyone dispute
that the speed of sound is measurable and at sea level is about 768 miles
per hour?"  The other three panelists shook their heads.  "And the speed of
light is also a known quantity and has been measured at about 186,000 miles
per second, give or take a few hundred miles per second?"  Again, he got
agreement from the panel.  "One final question," he smiled.  "Does anyone
dispute that the universe is about 13.8 billion years old and that our
earth and solar system are about 4.5 billion years old?"

       That got an immediate response from the man who had been introduced
as Dr. James, a minister.  "The Bible clearly shows that the earth and the
heavens were created within days of each other.  Calculating that event to
the present day yields a number of about 6,000 years," he stated with a
self-satisfied smile.

       "Is that so?" Mr. Asquith nearly snarled.  "This is a picture of the
summer night sky."  A picture of the Milky Way and other stars and galaxies
filled the screen.  "Do you dispute that this is the night sky in the
northern hemisphere in the summer?"

       The minister looked at the picture for a moment, and then nodded his
agreement.  "Yes, the constellations are clear enough," he allowed.

       "Yet, you insist that the universe and earth are only 6,000 years
old.  Be careful how you answer this, because you have already agreed to
the speed of light," Mr. Asquith smiled sweetly.  Michael and John knew
where this was headed.  They had seen that smile before and knew he had his
adversary in a logic trap from which there was no escape.

       "Yes, yes," Dr. James said impatiently.  "I already stipulated to
that."

       "That being the case, this is what the universe looks like from
earth, IF the earth AND the universe were only 6,000 years old."  He nodded
and another picture of the night sky bloomed on to the screen.  The stars
were scattered, constellations had disappeared, and the sky looked nearly
empty.  "And from another perspective, this is the entire universe we'd
see, instead of what we really see."  Two pictures appeared on the screen
side by side, showing the universe at only 6,000 years old and the universe
at 13.8 billion years old.  One picture filled the frame, the one depicting
6,000 years of existence was but a small corner in a large, dark
background.  "So, either the speed of light isn't correct (which even you
don't dispute) or your characterization of the age of the earth is wrong."

       "The Bible is correct.  The earth is 6,000 years old," the minister
stubbornly insisted.

       "Ignorance can be fixed with education, but arrogant stupidity
can't.  Mr. Moderator," Mr. Asquith said turning and looking directly at
the show's emcee, "there is no way to have a reasoned and reasoning
discussion about anything with this person.  Either he leaves the panel or
I do."

       The moderator blanched.  Mr. Asquith gathered up his papers as if he
were prepared to leave.  "You've put me in a very awkward situation," the
emcee said.  "Be reasonable, Sir."

       "I am a very reasonable man.  Dr. James is NOT reasonable or capable
of reason.  So, you still have your choice to make," Mr. Asquith smiled.
"We did have an agreement with this program about this."

       The other two people on the panel looked back and forth between the
minister and the moderator.  They shrugged, unwilling to defend the
position of Dr. James.

       "Uh, let's take a commercial break and resolve this issue," the
moderator smiled sourly at the television camera.  The screen went blank
for a moment and then a string of commercials followed.  When they came
back on the air, the emcee looked embarrassed.  "Dr. James had kindly
agreed to depart.  He will join us at a later date."

       "They had to keep their bigoted viewers," John pronounced, "but,
they couldn't let the show fold with nothing to say for the next hour."

       "They probably offered Dr. James a guest appearance on one of their
opinion shows where he can vent his spleen about Mr. Asquith and the
impossibility of Atlantis existing because the earth and universe are only
6,000 years old," Michael agree.  "All he'll really do is demonstrate his
arrogant stupidity again."

       "Lack of logic seems to be his strong suit," Doug chimed in.

       Returning to the show, Mr. Asquith acquitted himself again with
brilliant responses to the conservative panelists.  They did their best to
trip him up, but were unsuccessful.  The others pressed particularly hard
on the scientific discoveries and capabilities of such an ancient people as
told by the chroniclers of Atlantis.  He responded that Western
Civilization had been making truly scientific advances for only the last
600 years.  The Atlanteans had nearly 8000 years to get it right.  And they
had help.  The other questions were just as tough, but his reasonable
responses left them unable to return fire again.  The show was a triumph
for Mr. Asquith and Atlantis and a shellacking of the opposition.

       The rest of the Sunday morning shows were anti-climactic.  John
called Mr. Asquith's estate to congratulate him on his appearance.  A
message was taken as the boss wasn't back from the studios yet.  "I'm sure
he'll be pleased to get your message," the assistant said.

       "And this is when the crazies start coming out," Doug sighed.
"We'll have to be on high alert for at least the next week.  I'll be
conferencing with my boss about any threats or rumors of threats.  I'll
keep you posted," he added.

       As it turned out, the threats did happen, but nothing tangible
transpired.  With another two weeks, everything was back to normal.  The
need for security had passed, so Michael and John had their home back.
Colin and Doug hooked up several more times when their schedules allowed.
And the boys were frequent guests at Colin's condo when Doug came for
dinner.  They always left early so that Doug and Colin could breed.

       By the end of the next month, Mr. Asquith had received proposals
from television production companies and several movie production
enterprises.  The television treatments were read, but then put into one
stack and generally ignored.  Their approach was episodic which would help
cover the long period of Atlantean history, but there was no guarantee that
their shows would last long enough to give fair treatment to all of that
history.  The mini-series proposals had more promise, but seemed rushed.
Besides, the budget looked far too small to truly tell the Atlantean story.

       That left the movie script outlines.  Four of the proposals were
from studios that had an excellent track record for producing blockbuster
movies with remarkably good sequels.  The most intriguing proposal
suggested eight movies, each one covering approximately 1,000 years.  The
focus in the first movie would be on the aliens that helped create
Atlantis.  The enclosed script outline made a lot of sense for the first
movie.  It showed the general direction of the series without giving
anything away.  It left the reader wanting more.  Later sequels would
concentrate on the Atlanteans with only minor roles for the aliens.  The
final movie would include a climactic space battle as well as the attempt
to flee from a doomed Atlantis.

       The other three studios wanted to make a quick buck out of Atlantis.
They wanted to do the full history in one film.  They promised lots of
special effects and A-list actors.  Their budgets were impressive, but the
script outlines were lacking in direction and cohesion.  Mr. Asquith was
underwhelmed as were the rest of the reviewers.

       "I suggest we bring in someone from the film industry and ask for
their opinion," John proposed.  "It has to be someone with a track record
of being right and insightful."

       "Do you have someone in mind?" Mr. Asquith asked.

       "Uh, no," John sighed.

       Dr. Steele chimed in.  "I do," she said.  "My brother is a Hollywood
insider who could suggest someone that will fit the bill."

       "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then," Mr. Asquith smiled.

       Two days later, they had a name and a phone number.  During the
conference call with him, the group determined that he was the perfect man
for the job.  He had the right contacts and the perfect experience to help
Mr. Asquith make his final decision about awarding a contract for a movie
about Atlantis.

       On Thursday, he flew into the city airport and was picked up in a
limousine from the estate.  He was escorted into the conference room and
introduced to the principals of the Atlantis group.  Michael's and John's
gaydar went off instantly.  They smiled knowingly to each other and glanced
back at the man they'd just met.  His name was Shane Jacobi.  And he held
their gazes and handshakes a little longer than usual.

       Mr. Asquith began the meeting by telling Shane what they needed to
help make a decision on which movie studio to award the contract to.  After
Shane reviewed the four proposals, he asked if there were others from
television networks or other media.  Mr. Asquith produced them, but Shane
speed read through all of them, and tossed them aside.  "The four you've
selected are the best of the bunch," he finally agreed.  "However, I
haven't had a chance to read the full text of your Atlantis discovery, so
I'm not sure which studio will do a better job on this.  This first one,
though, seems to really know what they're doing and has an excellent track
record.  The director is the best for this kind of film."

       "How much time do you need to finish reading the full text?" Michael
asked.

       "I have an open-ended plane ticket, so there is no time-line on my
side.  Did you have some deadline you were working toward?" he asked
Mr. Asquith.

       "I assume that sooner would be better than later," he replied.

       "The four studios that are the finalists probably have a number of
people lined in tentatively to be part of the production," Shane revealed.
"But, those tentative agreements are only good for two to four weeks,
depending on who they are trying to sign."

       "We received the proposals on the day of the deadline, which was
Tuesday," Michael said.  "They are good for 30 days, but I hear your
concern.  So, as Mr. Asquith pointed out, the sooner, the better."

       "Would you prefer the full text in electronic form or on paper,"
Michael questioned.

       "Paper.  I can make notes in the margin far faster than with an
electronic version," Shane answered.  "If I have questions, whom should I
ask?"

       "Any of the principals in this room could answer your questions
about Atlantis," Mr. Asquith said.

       "I don't need all of you here, watching me read," he laughed.  "But,
one or two would be adequate.  Or you can just tell me where you'll be and
I'll look for you."

       John and Michael looked at Mr. Asquith and smiled.  That was a
signal he was used to.  "Michael and John would be available right now.
They are both excellent linguists and know everything there is to know that
we've discovered so far about Atlantis."  Drs. Steele and Abernethy looked
disappointed, but knew they had other duties that they'd fallen behind on.

       "In case we get in trouble," John cautioned, "where will you two
be?"

       "In the special library with the scrolls and tablets that haven't
been read yet," answered Dr. Steele.  "You never know when we might
discover another mislabeled or unmarked scroll that will shed additional
light on the Atlantis legend."

       Michael and John remained in the conference room with Shane.  "Do
you have accommodations for your stay with us?" John asked.

       "I have a reservation at the Hilton."

       "That doesn't sound like a lot of fun," Michael observed.  "You need
access to us, in case you have questions during the evening or this weekend
if it takes that long."  He glanced over at John who was already agreeing
with him.  "So, stay with us.  We have an extra bedroom all set up for you.
You won't be in our way and we'll stay out of your way, as much as you
need."

       "That's very gracious of you, but I wouldn't think of imposing on
you," Shane responded.

       "Go ahead.  Think about it," John smiled.  "We think you'll be more
comfortable with us than at a hotel.  Besides, we'll be saving our boss
some money by not having to pay for your hotel room.  And he won't have to
have a car available to you, so you can be ferried back and forth between
the hotel and the estate.  We'll provide the transportation."

	"There's no way I can turn down an offer that saves the boss
money," Shane laughed.

	"I'm pleased that's settled," Michael said.  "So, just how much of
the text have you read?"

	Shane smiled sheepishly.  "I've only read a summary on the plane.
So, I'm sure a lot was left out.  This was a really quick decision to come
up here after I got a call from Mr. Steele.  He does have a family
resemblance to Dr. Steele."

	Michael looked around the conference room for a stray copy of the
complete manuscript.  He spotted one on the credenza behind them.  He
brought it back to the table and placed it in front of Shane.  "Could we
rustle up something to drink or even lunch?" John asked.

	"Sure, what are you offering?" Shane smiled.

	"Uh, that's for later," Michael laughed.

	"The kitchen can provide anything you want," John interrupted
before they went too far down that road.  "They're excellent chefs."

	Shane thought a moment.  "How about a small salad, a turkey
sandwich, and some kind of side dish with fruit in it?  And to drink, I'll
take a glass of white wine to go with the turkey."

	"Done," John said.  "We haven't had lunch either, so do you mind if
we join you?"

	"Not at all."

	"What would you like, Michael?" John asked.

	"They make the most amazing croquet monsieur," he answered.  "If it
isn't too much trouble, I'll have that, with a glass of wine and a salad.
It'll take an orange and an apple on the side."

	"That sounds so much better than what I ordered," Shane
acknowledged.  "If they can swing it, I'd like the same."

	"Okay," John smiled and left the room.

	"So, you're a couple?" Shane asked.

	"Yeah, three years now."

	"You're so lucky to have each other and you seem just perfect for
each other."

	"How did you meet?"

	Michael gave him an abbreviated version and then asked Shane about
his romantic involvements.  Shane had lost a lover to the bug and had a
string of short relationships that went nowhere.  He'd been lucky though.
Even though he and his lover had fucked a lot, Shane had always been the
top and has never contracted the virus.  He asked point-blank about their
status.  Michael assured him that they were both negative.  "And it's been
ages since I've been fucked and even longer since I rode a dick bareback.
But, I also love to fuck and nutt deep in a hungry manhole," he revealed,
putting all his cards on the table.  "Are you both versatile or stuck in
one mode?"

	"Versatile.  There's no way I'd not want that big dick of John's up
my butt as often as I can get it.  And he loves my Italian sausage breeding
him.  So, we are pretty close to 50-50."

	The conference door opened and John walked in with a food trolley
loaded with three trays of food and drink.  "The great provider is here!
Did I miss anything important?" he asked.

	"Well, there is confirmation that our gaydar works," Michael
smiled.

	"And I look forward to bedding down with both of you," Shane
grinned back, "and getting bred bareback.  Repeatedly."

	The boys laughed at that characterization.  "Meanwhile, let's eat,"
Michael directed.

	They chatted about everything and nothing, before they got back to
the task assigned.  Shane took an hour to read the translation, furiously
writing notes in the margin as he flipped pages rapidly.  He had read so
many scripts that he had taught himself how to speed read, yet maintain an
understanding of the details he'd just read.

	"Now that I have a better understanding of the scope of the
Atlantean tale, I have to wonder if a couple of those production companies
read only the summary and not the full text," Shane said.  "They couldn't
have made those lame proposals, if they had read the full translation."

	"So, that leaves two possible studios still in the running,"
Michael surmised.

	Shane nodded.  "However, the breadth of the tale to be told and the
millennia that it covers can't be told in one movie.  Too much would be
left out.  It seems to me that the only real choice is the studio that
wants a multi-movie deal," he concluded.  "Let me look at their proposed
contracts.  I'm sure it's one of their boiler-plate contracts that grants
them all rights and leaves you with nothing."

	John passed him the appropriate contract and sat back.  "I know
that Mr. Asquith has a cadre of top-flight lawyers who will go over this
with a fine-toothed comb," John suggested.

	"If they aren't entertainment industry lawyers, they won't have a
clue what they're reading, nor will they know where the trapdoors and tar
pits are," Shane warned.  "Let me make some notes and suggestions in the
margins of their proposed contracts.  You can run it by your boss and his
lawyers and then see what they have to say afterwards."

	"How long with that take?" Michael asked.

	"I should have my ideas fleshed out by noon tomorrow, unless you
keep me up all night," he smiled lecherously.

	"We'll do what we can," John smiled right back.  "Mr. Asquith's
lawyers are used to Saturday and Sunday calls from him.  So, if you don't
finish Friday, the weekend is still a possibility."

	"No one likes to work weekends, so I'll do what I can to get it
done quickly."

	"What kind of changes do you have in mind?" John wondered.

	"The standard contract calls for you to be paid a percentage of the
net profits.  After their fancy accounting, you'll be left with next to
nothing.  And they left out any references to games and toys as well as a
deafening silence concerning income from television and other media
showings.  They're so duplicitous, I'm surprised they didn't just give you
a percentage of the net for domestic theaters only," Shane snarled.  "But,
if they want the screen rights bad enough, you are in the driver's seat and
they'll agree to terms far more favorable to you.  They won't want a golden
goose like this going to another studio."

	"I think we should ask Mr. Asquith to join us so that he agrees to
where we seem to be headed," Michael proposed.  Moments later, the boss was
in the room.  He nodded with understanding at the points Shane was making
and agreed that he should substitute his language for the boiler-plate
contract that Mr. Asquith had been sent for the movie rights.

	"And for a movie like this, just what is the going rate for a
percentage of the gross?" Mr. Asquith asked.  Shane quoted a number and
added that he thought the movie series would easily gross in the billions,
plus additional income from television showings, toys, games, etc.  "That's
what I wanted to hear.  The education fund will be well endowed with that
kind of money."

	When Mr. Asquith left, Shane asked, "He's not keeping it for
himself to defray the expenses of the dig, plus all the staff hired to
translate the finds?"

	John smiled.  "He has more money that he could spend in a thousand
lifetimes.  He wants to do something about the ignorance that permeates
this planet.  He wants to build and staff schools across the world."

	"That's a tall order," Shane surmised.  "With all of the deliberate
stupidity being dished out by governments and crazy media outlets, he may
not have enough to make a difference."

	"With the right curricula, you'd be surprised how quickly knowledge
can replace ignorance," Michael said.  "He already has staff here working
on that.  Besides, he knows a lot of people with very deep pockets who
would add some of their millions to his education pot."

	The remainder of the afternoon they spent making notations and
suggestions for contract changes.  They broke away for dinner with
Mr. Asquith, finished up their work and left for the day.

	While Michael and John prepared a late-night snack, Shane typed
furiously away at a computer, adding and deleting contract terms.  Before
bedtime, he was finished and printed it off for their review.  There were a
couple of typos which were easily fixed.  "I'll send this off as an
attachment to my e-mail explaining what it is to the boss.  It'll be up to
him to decide if he has additional questions before it goes off to his
lawyers.  That's when the really hard work begins."

	"And the lawyers for the studio will be hard-nosed about this,"
Shane said.  "But, I know they really want this project, so I think they'll
come around, if Mr. Asquith's lawyers hold firm.  All you have to do is
remind the studio that others are interested in the project and are far
more reasonable," he smiled.  "A good bluff when you hold all the cards
always works against those guys."

	"What about holding them to the narrative that's in the Atlantean
documents?" John asked.

	"I don't recommend that.  They want artistic license to do what
they think moves the film along and tells a compelling tale," Shane said.
"History can be pretty dry, even when it is about Atlantis.  You want this
film to succeed, so that sequels will be worth doing.  However, I do
recommend that you have them agree to have someone on set giving them
technical assistance about the exact nature of what the text says and
doesn't say.  But, that person or persons will not have veto power."

	Michael's cell phone rang.  Mr. Asquith was on the line.  Michael
put him on speaker.  "You've done excellent work, gentlemen," he began.
"I'll review it tonight and send it off to my lawyers.  I'm sure they'll
want to massage it, but I'll run it by you before I agree with any changes.
And Shane, I want you to sit down with them after we have a finished
contract at our end.  They need your experience in dealing with these
sharks in Hollywood."

	"I'll be happy to help out, Sir," Shane responded.

	"I'll remind my legal team that time is of the essence, so I don't
want any dawdling," Mr. Asquith announced firmly.  "They work for me, so
they'll do what I ask, or I'll find other lawyers.  There are a lot of very
qualified firms in town who would be happy to have my business."  Michael
was sure that Mr. Asquith had mentioned that to them a few times when he
wanted quick action on a legal matter.  One way or another, Mr. Asquith
always got his way.

	After they broke the connection, John said, "He'll have them on it
first thing tomorrow morning."

	"Or he could send it off to the managing partner tonight," Michael
reminded him.  "If Mr. Asquith wants to impress on them how important this
is, that lawyer will be on it tonight.  I wouldn't be surprised if we are
called into a conference with them by noon."

	"Wow!  He does work fast," Shane marveled.

	"And so do we," John smiled and moved in to kiss Shane on the lips
while Michael began massaging Shane's crotch.  The bedroom with the
California king bed in the master bedroom beckoned.


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