"Katlo, if you don't want to attend my lecture, it would be better if you stay outside my classroom."
"Uhm… sorry, Mrs. Gei. I'm listening, really."
She squints, then sighs. "Well, if you say so."
I slump a little lower in my seat, resting my chin on my hand. Feels like this class has been going on forever. Saturday can't come fast enough. No class, no lectures. Just me and that archaeology assignment I've been dying to start.
Finally, the bell rings. "Okay, class dismissed."
"Hell yeah," I mutter under my breath as I gather my books. Took long enough. Math lectures… nothing but a waste of time if you ask me.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head toward the door. "Alright. Time to go home."
"Hey, Katlo!"
The voice comes from behind me. I turn, scanning the hallway until I spot her—Sahra, grinning as always.
"Hi, Sahra. What's up?"
"Nothing much. Just walking home with my best friend," she says, falling in step beside me. Her eyes sparkle with excitement. "And I'm so hyped about our archaeology assignment! I can't believe they actually gave us permission to explore those ancient ruins."
"Yeah, me too." I can't help but smile back. "I've been looking forward to it all week. Just thinking about what we might uncover out there… it makes sitting through classes like this worth it."
We step out into the fading afternoon light, the noise of the school behind us, and head down the familiar road home.
I arrive home, toss my bag onto the chair, and take out my math book. Might as well clear the assignment before tomorrow. A few equations, a couple of scribbled answers, nothing special. Done.
I flop onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts drift to tomorrow. The ruins. The assignment. The thrill of actually stepping into something ancient, untouched, maybe dangerous.
I switch on my PC, type ani-cli into the terminal, and let some random episodes play just to pass the time. The glow of the screen keeps me company until I glance at the clock. Oh—it's already 10 p.m.
I set my alarm for 6 a.m. sharp, then sink into the sheets, trying to sleep. The hours crawl. Every time I close my eyes, I just see the ruins waiting, shadows of stones buried in dirt, secrets humming under the earth. I toss, turn. I'm too excited…
Riiing riiing!
The alarm screams. Morning already. I get up fast, wash my mouth, shower, and make my bed out of habit. Gear laid out—flashlight, gloves, notebook, small tools—all ready for the archaeology assignment I've been waiting for all week.
By 7:30 a.m., I'm sitting at the table with breakfast, tapping my fingers against the mug.
The phone rings. It's Sahra.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Katlo! I'm on my way to pick you up. Make sure you've got everything packed when I get there!"
"Oh, I'm already done," I say, smiling. "I'm just waiting for you."
Time ticks by, slow as ever, until the rumble of an engine outside breaks the silence. Sahra finally arrives, waving from the passenger seat. She's brought Dan along—older, taller, driving his brother's beat-up van that rattles like it's about to fall apart.
I grab my bag, lock the door, and climb into the van. The city of Gaborone stretches out behind us as we roll toward the open road, the ruins waiting somewhere ahead.
The van rattles as we pull out of the city, Gaborone shrinking into the rearview. I sit by the window, forehead leaning against the cool glass, watching the skyline dissolve into stretches of dry land and thorn trees.
Sahra chatters the whole way, her voice bubbling with excitement.
"Can you believe it, Katlo? Actual ruins! Not just textbook pictures. Like—we're the ones stepping inside history."
"Yeah," I say, managing a half-smile. "Feels unreal, doesn't it?"
Dan grunts from behind the wheel, his eyes glued to the road. "Don't expect too much. Place is probably just a pile of rocks. You two are hyping it like you'll find gold or something."
Sahra punches his arm. "Rocks that mean something, Dan! Not everything's about money, you know."
The road stretches on, straight and endless, heat shimmering above the tar. A few villages blur past—scattered houses, goats crossing lazy, children waving at the passing van. Time feels both fast and slow, like the excitement inside me is winding the clock tighter while the horizon refuses to move.
We stop once at a roadside stall, buying bottled water and fried vetkoek. The salty, greasy taste only makes me hungrier for the adventure ahead.
By the time the signboard for Mahalapye rises in the distance, the sun is already climbing, blazing hard over the dry earth.
"Two hours," Dan mutters, parking outside a small filling station. "Stretch your legs. I need to gas up before we continue."
I step out, boots crunching on gravel, and take a deep breath..
Sahra bounces beside me, eyes bright. "From here it's just a little further. Can you feel it, Katlo? Like… the ruins are calling us."
I don't answer right away. My gaze lingers on the horizon, where the land dips into ridges and hidden valleys. Something stirs in my chest. A pull.
Yeah. I can feel it.
"Well, just a few more minutes and we'll be there," Dan says, leaning back as the van bumps over a stretch of rough road. A small grin creeps onto his face. "Dang, feels good to be back in my hometown."
Sahra blinks, surprised. "Wait—your hometown is Mahalapye? I never knew that!"
Dan chuckles. "Well, you never asked."
Sahra rolls her eyes, but I can tell she's amused. The van rattles on, weaving past clusters of old houses, roadside stalls, and the kind of dusty open spaces that make the world feel wider than it should. I press my face closer to the window, and that's when I see them.
The ruins.
At first, just jagged silhouettes rising from the earth, broken teeth against the horizon. Then, as we draw closer, the details sharpen—massive stone pillars half-buried in sand, walls carved with faint symbols. The air grows heavier the nearer we get, thick with a kind of silence that doesn't belong to nature.
We pull up to the site, where several white tents are already pitched in neat rows. Professional archaeologists bustle about—some cataloguing shards of pottery, others carefully brushing dirt off ancient carvings. Among them are men and women in clean medical coats, their equipment gleaming under the sun. Their presence is a reminder that this mission isn't just an academic field trip. If things go wrong here, they're ready to deal with it.
The three of us climb out of the van, the heat pressing down like a heavy blanket. I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow, but my chest feels lighter, almost buzzing. The ruins are right here, real, within reach.
A tall man in khaki strides toward us. His steps are measured, his presence commanding, the type of person who's used to being in charge. He stops just a few feet away and offers a firm nod. The name tag clipped to his chest reads: David.
"So you're the students from Gaborone," he says, his voice deep and steady. "We've been waiting for you."
My heart leaps at those words. Waiting for us.
Excitement rushes through me like fire in my veins. After all the dull hours of lectures, the endless homework, the dreams I've carried since the assignment was given—this is it. Standing at the threshold of something ancient, something unknown.
David gestures toward the yawning entrance of the ruins, where shadows stretch into darkness. "Gear up. Your mission starts now."
I tighten the straps of my bag, fingers trembling with anticipation. This is the beginning.