An Approaching Deadline

"One more paper, a paper more." Maggie chanted, mockingly. This Ph.D. business couldn't end fast enough. In a short few months, she'd defend her thesis and be done. After that...

Maggie paused her writing and sipped on her coffee. After that... what? She knew well Byzantine Chant ranked somewhere with the underwater basket weaving. Churches expected her to volunteer and no bank had come forward with employment interest. Maggie sighed. Perhaps Boggie would offer her a sales associate position in his shop and an unofficial one as curator of his codices. It could never go on her resume. However, an important discovery could land her a tenure somewhere.

Perhaps Bill would offer her a TA position in his department. Maggie drowned her frustration in another sip of coffee. Who was she kidding? Even in academia, Byzantine chant was not the realm of women.

Her phone beeped, and she glanced at the email preview.

"Boggie invited us for lunch. He'd like us to look at an Asmatikon."

Maggie grinned. It was most likely a fake. Half of his um... collection looked fabricated and the other half questionable. She then snorted. Here goes yet another afternoon chasing unicorns.

Most days she admired Bill for his unending enthusiasm when it came to new material. He would pour through each paragraph to unearth the authentic. Not today. This paper would not write itself and tomorrow was the final deadline. Honestly, Maggie did not procrastinate. She frankly did not find enough proof for her theory, and she'd write exactly that in her paper.

However, she could not refuse Bill, and if she hoped for a job curating Boggie's questionable collection when her grants run out, she'd better get ready and prove herself. Maggie spent the half an hour in traffic planning how to discreetly pitch Boggie for the curator job.

"Good afternoon, Musetea." Boggie smiled as he opened the door. "Bill is already gorging on tacos, pouring through the Asmatikon. Dusty volume, let's see what Bill can tell us." Boggie coughed and winked.

"Oh dear, it's a fake." Maggie thought as she followed Boogie to the dining room.

She gasped at the sight of the book in the middle of the table. She stopped so suddenly that Boggie almost bumped into her. What was Bill thinking? Forgetting all research protocol and holding a taco while turning the pages of what it looked a hundred-year-old book.

"Look at this, my dear," Bill said between two taco bites, without turning his head. "I have never seen these chants. It's almost impossible for me to date it since it breaks all the rules. Perhaps your program...?"

Boggie looked at her with curiosity as she pulled her laptop from her bag, so Maggie seized her chance.

"I apply statistical methods to understand the structure of the chants. I extract features then compare and classify them in different ways, for example, what century do they most likely belong. I used our corpus to train and test then applied it to Iuda's."

Maggie stopped to catch her breath then beamed.

"98 percent accuracy. I could tell a lot about them."

She then sighed.

"Music is a mirror of the historical setting and chants could also tell a lot about the period, grounded in the experiences of their creator. I fear there'd be no time to add this before my dissertation. Sometimes I wish I was there, listening to the monks as they composed them."

Pain marred Boggie's refined features for a moment.

"Always be careful what you wish, Maggie."

That was awkward. The weathered book on the table must be several hundred years old. Bill perhaps sensed the tension and interjected.

"How do we go about telling your program what's in this book?"

"We take pictures of each page and load them on my computer."

Boggie frowned and rubbed the gold brooch he always wore over his left pocket.

"Will be here for the rest of the night."

"Don't I know it." Maggie sniffed silently then added. "If you email the pics to me, it would go faster."

Several hours later, Bill turned the last page of the Codex and cheered as Boggie approached to pick up the book.

The cheer died on his lips. Maggie watched him pointing to Boggie's chest.

"Where did you get that brooch? I saw a similar image on the last page."

°The same place as the Codex." Boggie stared into space.

In slow motion, Bill's fist connected with Boggie's face.

"You're kidding me, right? Did you just make me spend hours photographing a fake?"

"Perhaps." Boggie rubbed his chin. He took off his brooch and handed it to Bill.

"Here, perhaps this would help with historical dating."

Bill handed the jewelry to Maggie.

"Bring it on Monday. I don't feel like explaining my wife the bauble is not for her."

Maggie shook her head. Perhaps the preliminary results would cheer them up.

"15th century with 98% confidence," Maggie announced.

Boggie stiffened. Maggie noticed the sharp intake of breath and the fisted hands on his sides. Bill seemed oblivious to Boggie's reaction since he replied flatly.

"Great. Don't forget to tag and check the material into the corpus."

Maggie was about to close her laptop when her program beeped and displayed a message in red.

"Wait!"

"Did it flag as a fake"? Bill remarked sarcastically.

"Surprisingly no. I guess I need to tweak the algorithm. However, it did flag steganography."

Bill shook his head.

"Maggie, your dissertation is in a few months. You need to improve counterfeit detection and false positives. Use this Codex to test your hypothesis and program updates. It would be great if you figure it out by Monday. It would leave us just enough time to redo all the analysis and change the first draft. "

Maggie sighed and nodded.

"See you in a few months, Boggie. Time is running short for me."

"Perhaps sooner, Musetea," Boggie whispered as she headed to the door.

She would not be back. There was no time.