Smithsonian Expeditionary Logs: Irem, City of Pillars

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**Smithsonian Expeditionary Logs: Irem, City of Pillars**
**Authors:** [[*user DrGrimoire]]

**If you liked this, you would like:**

**[[[scp-8352|SCP-8352: Little Havana Syndrome]]]:** The Foundation contains a transmissible strain of Communism in Cuba.

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++ Smithsonian Expeditionary Proposal: Irem, City of Pillars
[[/div]]

**Background:** Recent discoveries have made clear that the Quran contains references to numerous extinct thaumaturgical cultures and phenomena, including Jabulqa and Babylon. A similar reference is made to a city known as "Irem", described as being located in the "Stone Valley" and inhabited by the "Thamûd", who were punished by God for their "corruption". This narrative is consistent with the narratives around the destruction of other thaumaturgical civilizations, including the fall of Atlantis and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Non-Veiled research by Quranic scholars has suggested that the historical location of this city may be in Wadi Rum, a wadi [[footnote]] A river valley which is dry except in the rainy season, similar to an arroyo [[/footnote]] in the Kingdom of Jordan. This location reinforces the notion that the civilization which built Irem was thaumaturgical in nature, as the region lacks natural resources including water, necessitating alternative methods of survival. Similar patterns are present in other historical thaumaturgical civilizations, including Middle Eastern desert cultures such as the Ubar of Saudi Arabia.

This proposal seeks to launch an expedition to Wadi Rum for the purposes of locating and cataloging the lost culture and history of Irem.

**Methodology:** The location of Irem will be ascertained from the air by Observation, with confirmation achieved with a ground-based Observer. Upon successful location of the site, standard Smithsonian protocol for investigation of abandoned cities will be followed. Artifacts recovered from the site will be transported to the Center's archives for study and cataloging, pending agreement of the Jordanian government.

**Funding and Provisioning:** The anticipated funding required for the expedition is $1.4 million, to be spent as follows:

* $200,000 for transportation of personnel and equipment to and from site
* $250,000 for camp supplies including tents, food, water, and medical supplies
* $300,000 for expeditionary supplies, including a $50,000 reserve for unexpected requirements
* $300,000 for staff and local guide salaries
* $350,000 for Veil maintenance and concealment of the expedition.

[[/div]]

Upon review of your proposal, the board has elected to **Approve** your expedition to the Wadi Rum valley. Please begin working with your assigned logistics division representative: **X. Cummins** to make necessary arrangements. We expect your expedition to begin on or by: **September 6, 1993**.

Cooperation from the Jordanian government has been secured, and the Royal Jordanian Navy Base Aqaba has been made available as a staging ground for your expedition. Your diplomatic division representative: **D. Hale** will be on location to liaise with the Jordanian government on your behalf.

We await your findings with great interest.
[[/div]]

++ August 21, 1993

Arrived in Aqaba last night, we touched down somewhere around 11:00 PM local time. Wyatt accompanied me, rest of the team should be landing this evening. Met with Hale today, he's been in the country for the last couple of weeks getting things ready for us. Jordanians apparently don't have much experience behind the Veil. He says part of the deal that got us here was for the Center to sponsor their National Heritage Office for GOC membership. Not my problem.

What is my problem is Wahid, our surprise addition from this NHO. Apparently the king made a last-minute demand while I was in the air that we include him as a representative. He's about thirty, speaks decent English, might be helpful as a translator, but has absolutely no idea about thaumaturgy. Having to educate a mundane while delving into a lost city was not something I was planning on.

++ August 23, 1993

Rest of the team is here, along with our gear. Had a great welcome breakfast this morning, everyone is excited to be in the field. Going up to do some Observations by air in a bit. Jenkins will be flying, and Wahid managed to insert himself as well. Oh well, as far as he'll be able to tell I'll be napping. Picked up the Jeeps this morning too -- not as new as the ones we had in Saudi, but they'll do. Wyatt and the rest of the team are going to do a full gear inspection while I'm in the air, there was some sort of issue with some of the papers and we want to make sure everything showed up alright.

++ August 24, 1993

Nothing from the air yet. Wyatt tells me that the crate containing warding reagents is missing -- given the amount of silver in there, I wouldn't be surprised if it had been stolen. He's going to try and do a dowsing ritual and see if it's just lost. Not holding my breath.

++ August 27, 1993

Saw a flash of Sapphire ARad today. Wyatt and Harris are going to drive out and check. Wahid managed to make our missing crate reappear as well, so maybe he's good for more than just translation. Also noticed quite a few camps already in Wadi Rum. The Bedouins have been herding in the valley for centuries. Might be worth interviewing them and seeing if they know anything.

++ August 29, 1993

Harris confirmed what I saw -- we've found something thaumaturgically active in Wadi Rum! Whole team drove out today, and we're setting up camp. Harris and Wyatt found a cave with a doorway in it, half-buried in the sand. Turns out that the mountain the cave is in is actually the highest peak in Jordan, so there might be some sort of thaumaturgic resonance there? Need to make a call to home office about the 1963 Nepal expedition, see if there's anything to that. Valley itself is beautiful, with red sand dunes as far as the eye can see in one direction, with sandblasted stone walls and even some arches. The sand and type of stone remind me a lot of Arches national park out in Utah.

We're getting an excavator delivered today. It's funny how this valley feels so remote, even though we're barely three hours drive outside of Aqaba. Didn't expect how windy it would be either, but the site is in some sort of wind tunnel from the mountains. We're going to need to set up some sort of windbreak around the generators and tents or we'll all choke on sand.

++ August 30, 1993

We dug out the door with the excavator. The door's pretty small, only about six feet high and four wide. Probably not the main entrance. With the sand gone we were able to find inscriptions in the doorframe. Harris says they look Thamudic, which matches other inscriptions in the area. Shame we don't have a decent translation. Surprised they held up this long, since the soft sandstone they're carved in is easy to damage. Took some rubbings to send back to the Center. Wahid insisted on having a copy sent to the NHO as well.

Behind the door is a long hallway, about seven feet high and five wide. No tool marks on the walls. Also found the source of that flash of Sapphire: some sort of enchanted torch made out of stone. Stone is an alien. It looks like oceanic basalt, carved into a spike about sixteen inches long and enchanted to glow at one end. Not sure where these are drawing energy from, but this plus the walls suggests that the Iremites were Lithomancers of some kind. Debating if we should try taking a torch as a sample. Plenty of time to decide, and there are plenty of torches.

The hallway is about thirty five feet long, and then ends up against a slab of enchanted granite -- another alien stone, covered in more Thamudic script. Might be a door of some kind? If so, we'll need to decipher the enchantments on it to get it to open.

++ September 2, 1993

Harris and I have spent the last couple of days taking resonance impressions of the enchantments on the slab. It's just an educated guess, but it looks like the Iremites set up some sort of battery deeper in the complex, and that's what's powering all of these enchantments. The door has aetheric channels set up throughout its structure that are inactive. I think that if we put some energy through them, we'll be able to get it to open. Don't want to have to keep EVE flowing though it though, so I did some back of the napkin math and sent Wyatt and Wahid into the city to get steel I-beams to hold the door open while we work.

Decided to take a torch and box it up to send back to DC. Wyatt is delivering it while he's in the city. Strangest thing though: when I picked it up from the wall, I felt the presence of another thaumaturge on it for a split second, and then all of the torches died. Is it possible someone is still alive deep in the tunnel? No evidence of this entrance being used for centuries, and we haven't found any others -- Wyatt and a couple of the grad students have been looking while Harris and I do impressions.

++ September 3, 1993

Set up lights and the I-beams in the tunnel. I was right, charging up the inactive channels in the slab opens it. Beams seem to be holding fine, I'm going to have extra put in just in case (don't want to repeat Burma). Beyond the door, the lights are still on, not going to take a torch and change that. Door opens into a circular room about fifteen feet across, with a domed roof. Weapon racks along the walls, holding spears with stone heads and dark wooden shafts. Stone table in the middle of the room, with fine detail and more of that script, so we took rubbings as before. At the far side of the room there's a spiral staircase going down. Clearly this was some sort of guard post.

Heard some noises from down the staircase while bagging and tagging. Sounded almost like rushing water, or maybe sand. Going to head down tomorrow and see what we can find.

++ September 4, 1993
Unbelievable find today. Spiral staircase goes down into a massive cavern (about three thousand feet by two thousand feet), inside of which there is an entire city: Irem. Hundreds of decorated pillars, covered in precious metals and gems hold up the roof, and there's an entire river running through the middle of the city. The city itself is built in rings around a central plaza which straddles the river, at the heart of which there is some sort of crystalline sculpture of a tree. The whole thing glows with white light, and when I Observe it I see a rainbow of Hues. Think that must be the thaumaturgic battery for the city. Judging by the size and the intensity of the ARad coming off of it, it has enough energy to keep the lights on and the wards up for thousands of years.

How did they make this? And why?

We have decades of work ahead of us here. The plan is to catalog the layout of the city and number the buildings and roads, then call in for backup, since this is way more than we ever expected to find. Wyatt, Wahid, and I are going to camp out in the city tonight and see if anything happens as the night goes on. Also, it's much cooler down here, and there's no sand to get in my sleeping bag.

++ September 5, 1993
Writing this at around 1:00 AM. Was awoken by a song of some kind, like rubbing a wet finger on the rim of a crystal wineglass. It's the tree. At exactly astronomical midnight, it began to sing, and hundreds of balls of light began dancing between its branches. Tried to take some pictures, hopefully they develop alright. Wyatt and Wahid don't seem to hear the song, although they do see the dance. Could this be because neither of them are thaumaturges? I've never heard of anything like that, but it's the only explanation that makes sense.

Writing this around 2:00 AM. Decided to walk closer to the tree to get a better view. Song has continued for the last two hours, shifting to a lower tone. At the base of the tree, I noticed something -- dozens of skeletons, covered in crystal roots. All of them have obvious signs of trauma: spears buried in their chests, broken skulls, etcetera. All also have a single root growing into the eye socket of their skull.

Did the tree grow on its own? Is this the burial ground of the people of Irem, or something that has gone terribly wrong? Going to try and get some sleep and think about this in the morning, but this has rattled me. How could an enemy get in here to do this to the people of Irem? They were clearly gifted lithomancers, so they surely could have sealed off the entrances.

In the morning, I told Wyatt and Wahid what I had found. Wyatt and I are of one mind on the tree, in that we agree that it should be the focus of our ongoing research. Such a large and complex enchanted structure, especially one which seems to be alive, would likely be the crown jewel of any ancient thaumaturgical society. As such, it is likely to have been worked on and interacted with by a broad cross-section of the people of Irem, and could give us invaluable insight into their culture.

Wahid is holding together, but barely. I forget that despite his position he only knows of the paranatural from what we have taught him. When I showed him the skeletons at the base of the tree, he nearly fainted. Wyatt is tending to him now, while I record what findings we have. I told him to tell Wahid about some of the near scrapes we've been in, in the hopes that he will realize that this is not that serious.

We tried to go out to the camp but the door has sealed itself, crushing the I-beams. This is becoming Burma all over again. The two of them spent the day looking for other exits, without luck. I've been trying to open the door, but the channels are actively fighting me. It's like something is pushing back on every spell I try, but when I Observe I don't see anyone who it could possibly be.

Exhausted myself for the day. Fortunately we have plenty of food, and the river means we aren't going to want for water. Going to try and siphon energy out of the tree tomorrow to use in opening the door.

++ September 6, 1993

Tried draining energy from the tree today. As soon as I touched it, I realized that it is far larger than I suspected. Its roots extend to the door we came in through and beyond, worming through the entire mountain. Just keeping myself sane from the scale of the thing was a difficult task -- it was like trying to drink the ocean. Definitely not an option. Managed to make contact through the door with Harris. He says they've been trying to cut through, but it's heavily warded. The walls aren't though, but every time they drill or cut they "flow like water" and fill in any holes they make.

The current plan on the outside is to have DC ask the Gomorgons for help. Can't imagine that Hale is going to have much fun explaining that we want to bring the greatest demolitionists in the world to a historic site, but that's not my problem. It's going to be at least six days, probably more, so in the meantime there's nothing for us to do but keep exploring. I had Wyatt and Wahid continue the search for a way out. Every moment that we don't have an exit seems to give our local friend terrible anxiety, setting him to fidgeting and pacing that makes it hard to focus.

As they searched, I went looking through the center of the city, which we are trying to keep Wahid out of for the sake of his nerves. While looking through one of the larger buildings near the tree, I found what looks like a library of stone tablets in the same script from earlier. I browsed through a couple, and I swear this language is starting to look more and more familiar to me. Some words are obvious -- "the", "city" and "mind" stand out to me. I think there might be some similarity between this language and Akkadian that Harris missed.

My assistants found another tunnel today, which they hoped might be an exit. Unfortunately, it just leads down into a larger cavern, lit by glowing crystals of what they believe is rock salt. It looks like this cavern once contained the fields of Irem, which would have fed the people of the city. Now, the fields are overgrown with weeds. Wahid seems to be doing a bit better since Wyatt talked to him yesterday. At the very least, he's lost his ashen pallor.

++ September 7, 1993

Woke up next to the tree. Didn't go to sleep anywhere near it. I wonder if the song is affecting my dreams. I'll have to look up dream magic and induced sleepwalking when we get out of here. I expected this to set Wahid off, but he's taken it in stride. I think that Wyatt's lack of fear is calming him down a bit. Perhaps we'll make an explorer of him yet! He just needs to accept that part of the job is being locked in ancient ruins by unknown magics, and there's no sense in worrying about it.

My thoughts keep turning to the tree's song. It hasn't stopped even after sunup today. As I walk the streets of Irem, lit only by the tree's light, I begin to wonder how a culture that can make such wonders can just vanish. To be frank, it makes me feel very small.

I decided to take Wyatt and Wahid to the library. I know Wyatt will appreciate it, and I hoped that something as unthreatening as the books of a long-dead civilization would help spark some wonder in Wahid to really drive out his fear. I was telling the two of them how the Iremites had developed something akin to the Dewey Decimal System when Wahid asked me how I knew. When I told him that the labelling made it clear that they were categorizing books by content, both he and Wyatt looked at me like I'd grown a second head. I thought I'd just started noticing Akkadian loanwords in this language, but it's not that. It turns out Wahid also reads Akkadian, and he can't make heads or tails of even the simplest glyphs here.

There are no loanwords.

Something is giving me the ability to read Thamudic.

Whatever is giving me this ability, it's subtle. Consulted with Harris on this, and we think that it's probably the song. It's the only thing which is affecting me and not my companions in here. Not sure why a civilization would make an artifact which lets foreign thaumaturges gain the ability to read their texts, but we're going to make the most of it.

I decided to try and translate the writing on the doorway. Still can't make out many words, but one seems to mean "Isolation" or "Alone". Could it mean that this place was the lone settlement? Or that the entrance was the only entrance? Or maybe it's a warning to leave this place alone and undisturbed?

++ September 8, 1993

Woke up beneath the tree again, but don't remember falling asleep at all. Some small roots had grown over me when I slept. They snapped off easily enough, but disturbing all the same. Had the strangest dreams. A figure was trapped inside of the tree, and they were talking to me, but their words bounced off of the crystal bark inside, and all I could hear were the echoes. Noticed that the roots tried to grow over me while I slept. Did the people of Irem plant this tree not knowing that it would consume them? Or did they choose this for themselves?

Wahid was the one who found me. He woke up before Wyatt, and noticed I was missing. I must say, I'm impressed by his growth. His hands were shaking when he shook me awake, but he managed all by his lonesome. I did tell him that, in the future, he shouldn't go off on his own on an expedition. If something nasty had got me, safety in numbers would be a better defense. I should've told him that back at camp though, since it broke his nerve and he actually fainted this time. He'll make a decent explorer one day, but not today.

Wyatt and I decided to take him on another hunt for records, and we found what looks to have been a hospital of some kind. The medical texts on tablets show a much deeper understanding of the human body than any mundane civilization of the time. Looks like the Iremites also maintained very detailed genealogical records as part of their medical system. From what I can tell, the people of this city almost never bred with outsiders, only taking in new blood in the form of those with magical potential. By the time of its height, the city's population was almost all thaumaturges, but they suffered from a variety of congenital conditions, especially what seems to have been some kind of immunodeficiency.

We also found their council hall, which was across the street from the hospital. The place was in a state of disrepair. Stone tables that must weigh thousands of pounds were split in half or crumbled against the walls, and at the far end of the hall from the entrance, there were five high chairs, one of which looked to have somehow melted. Each chair had a proper noun carved into the back of it: Ād, Shem, Ghasan, Ilmun, and, on the melted chair, Thamûd.

On our walk to camp from the council hall, Wyatt noticed something peculiar about the pillars. Each of them is decorated with what I believe are the histories of a family or individual, though most have no text on them for me to read. What's odd, however, is their lack of patina. While there's a lot of gold used on them, there's also silver, which is kept polished. I haven't been able to Observe any enchantment which would keep them from oxidizing. Wahid suggested that they may have developed some sort of glass coating for them. Given the level of lithomantic skill on display in this city, it is very possible.

Tonight, Wyatt and Wahid suggested that we camp as far from the tree as possible. They hope that distance will mull its effects, thwarting whatever purpose it has in making me sleep beneath its boughs. We descended down into the farming cavern, to the far side from the tunnel leading to the city. I don't have the heart to tell them that I still hear the song, as loud and as clear as ever.

++ September 9, 1993

Another morning awoken under the tree. This time by a spurt of adrenaline. I found myself ensnared by a dozen small roots around my ankles, arms, and neck. They snapped off without too much effort, though it felt as though they were fighting me. I fear what might have happened had we not slept so far away -- with more time, who knows how thick they may have grown.

While I waited for Wahid and Wyatt to find me once more, I bagged up the crystalline radicle which had grown about my neck. Disturbing though it may be, who knows what knowledge such a thing might reveal.

By the time my compatriots returned to me, the flash of fight-or-flight reflex had gone. In its place was a bone-deep exhaustion, one I knew well as the aftermath of a sleepless night. Wyatt suggested that we take the day to delve further into the library we found on the 7th, rather than any more strenuous activity.

As I set about my reading, I found I could imagine the shape of glyphs I had not yet seen. This recall felt almost subconscious, just as natural as writing a letter of English. I decided to write down a few glyphs and have Wyatt and Wahid search for any slates with them. Specifically, I taught them the symbols for Tree, Mind, and Song.

This sped up my reading tremendously, as they brought me a stack of relevant texts up to my waist. Reading through them, I began to piece together a reflection of the culture of Irem before its fall. The Iremites were not a religious people. Though they had empirically proven the existence of the soul, they did not consider it sacred. In their view, when the body died, the entire sum of the person it contained died with it. To me, this also explains their impressive body of medical knowledge. If the finite body's finite existence is all there is, prolonging your life becomes all the more important.

Interestingly, though they knew of necromancy, and held such a pragmatic view towards death and the hereafter, they never made extensive use of it. Only in the very youngest of their texts was it mentioned, and there only as something being experimented with by the House of Thamûd. I was unable to find how this was viewed by their contemporaries -- by most accounts, Thamûd was the mightiest of the five houses, and criticism of them was scarce in the record.

Another interesting connection I made -- the glyph representing the decorated pillars is constructed from the symbols for tent and pole. Reading through some of the oldest records, it seems that this whole region was once open desert, with their proto-Iremite ancestors being nomadic tribespeople. Their foundational myth speaks of a single lithomancer who, when his people were threatened by a great foe, raised the very mountains from the sands to create a shelter for his people. In so doing, he turned the poles of their tents into the supports which would hold up the "great tent" of the cavern.

By the time the dance of lights in the tree's boughs began, I was utterly entranced by the knowledge I had found. Wyatt nearly had to physically drag me out of the library and back to our remote camp in the farmlands.

++ September 10, 1993

While I slept last night, the roots of the tree cocooned me completely. I woke up screaming, the feeling of cold stone bark having penetrated yet more dreams of the figure within the tree. Spent the better part of an hour thrashing against the roots to no avail, my every movement seeming to just make them tighter, until Wyatt and Wahid both came charging in to try and free me. They managed to get one arm free, but the tree somehow managed to toss Wyatt at Wahid, and they both went down hard. The tree seems willing to grant me my free arm, as no matter how much I try and tear at the roots with it I can't get leverage. I managed to get my journal out from under me using only my free arm.

All I can do now is write down what the tree does to me.

I can see a root slowly snaking its way into my left eye. The sensation is surprisingly painless, except when I blink. As it pushes deeper into my skull and into my mind, I can start to hear a voice.

The voice tells me that it is the last son of the House of Thamûd, its name long since forgotten. It speaks in my mind the terrible tragedy of its greatest work, the tragedy that it hopes I can end. He tells me that in the last days of his city, his house recognized that their culture was doomed to die. As their children grew sick, and their society ever more insular, they concocted a plan to live forever.

His people had known for ages that trees could live for millennia, and that stone was all but eternal. They created the seed of a tree of stone, the seed that grew into the tree before me. As it grew, they wove about it enchantments that would let it contain the minds of their people, creating an afterlife instead of inevitable oblivion. When their plan was revealed to the other houses, it sparked a civil war. Thamûd was strong, but the other houses united against them, seeking to prevent what they saw as abomination from ensnaring the essence of their people. The war was brief. After three weeks, nearly every man, woman, and child in Irem was dead or dying. This last son was the only one left whole, and in his regret, he tried to grant his people their promised eternity.

Something went wrong. When he planted them into the tree, their souls made the crossing, but not their minds. Only the barest echo of them remained -- the song that now fills the cavern. For two millennia, this one mind has been alone, hoping that another like him, a thaumaturge whole in body, might come along to join him.

As the tree breaches deeper and deeper into my mind, I see a figure out of my remaining eye. Wyatt, his head bloodied and his eyes full of tears. Through the crystal bark around my mind I plead with him to grant me mercy. I watch as he hesitates, then draws his knife, the one I bought for him.

I wish I could weep with him as he hesitates, holding the knife above my throat. Instead, I plead with him through lips filled with sandstone mycorrhizae and with my one unrooted eye. As I feel the sweet sting of steel on my jugular, I think myself free.

I wish I could scream with him as the roots flow like a rushing stream to fill the wound, their crystal core shifting from diamond to carnelian.

I pray that I join the song.

I do not want forever.

[[/div]]

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++ Smithsonian Thaumatological Anthropology Center Memorandum
[[/div]]

Dear Colleagues,

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of Dr. Jacob Ashford. As many of you know, Dr. Ashford was leading an expedition to Wadi Rum, with the hopes of uncovering the lost city of Irem. In the course of this expedition, he was exposed to an unknown work of artifice, which ultimately took his life. Dr. Ashford dedicated his life to his belief in a brighter future through the expansion of knowledge, and served the center well for over forty years. A Veiled ceremony will be held at his gravesite in Arlington National Cemetery on September 27th.

Dr. Ashford is survived by his wife, Charlotte, and their son, Alexander. His legacy is one of selfless sacrifice for the sake of human knowledge, integrity, and courage.

He will be dearly missed.

- The Smithsonian Board of Regents
September 20, 1993

[[/div]]

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Smithsonian Expeditionary Logs: Irem, City of Pillars

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