Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

Stromberg confirmed. “Miss Porter, meet the Mashco-Piro.” Jennifer bent down to the screen to take a closer look at the moving dots. “Here,” Stromberg pushed some keys, and the image zoomed in. In the center of the screen, a darkly tanned man with black hair, carrying a stack of green leaves on his back, moved around. “The computer will now follow this man and keep him in the center of the screen.”

“Only this man?” Jennifer asked.

“Yep. Take a look at this.” He turned to the second screen. On the display, the numbers one to twenty-five were displayed. Some of them were stationary, while others moved around. “This is what we call the happy few.” Stromberg sounded proud. With the push of a button on the keyboard, the numbers appeared on top of the live image of the shabono. “These are the twenty-five tribe members that we carefully selected for our research, including males, females and children. We follow their every movement, analyze patterns and determine their function and social status in the group, and of course, any changes over time. The computer can identify each person individually from the rest.”

“Ingenious,” Jennifer complimented. “You can also track them at night?”

Stromberg switched on two other screens next to each other. On the first, a green-colored image of the shabono appeared and on the second, the same image, only this time in bright blue, red, orange and green colors. On both screens, the same numbers, from one to twenty-five, appeared. “Infrared and thermal vision. At night, we use infrared, the green one here, to see. But from the sky, we lose sight when the tribe members go inside the shabono, or move from the clearings to beneath the treetops. That’s when we use the thermal vision over here.”

“Impressive. How does the system distinguish one tribe member from the other?”

“Simple. Every person has their own heat signature. Your body temperature might be ninety-eight point six, but that’s an average. When measured over the surface of your body, your temperature will vary slightly in different areas of the body. This gives you a unique pattern a sensor can read.”

“But body temperature is not a constant,” Jennifer remarked.

“Very good.” Stromberg clapped his hands. “But, what is constant is the variation between the different areas of your body. So, if your temperature, let’s say at your forehead, rises zero point five degrees, so will the temperature of your lower leg. Here, let me show you.” Stromberg opened a small suitcase on the table and removed what looked like a plastic pistol, like a barcode reader used in warehouses. He pointed the device at her. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Starting at her head, he slowly moved the beeping scanner from the top of her head down to her ankles. “Please turn around?” He scanned her again from top to bottom. “That’s it,” he said after a series of long beeps. He put the scanner in a holster next to the monitor and typed on his keyboard.

“There you are,” he said, as the image on the monitor with the thermal vision zoomed out. On the screen, the image of the three cabins appeared. There was movement all around, and a group of people setting up tents next to the cabins revealed that the picture was live. Above the center cabin, the number twenty-six appeared. “And there you are literally.” Stromberg pointed at the number.

Jennifer moved to the open door in the cabin and waved an arm outside. The number had followed her movement, and now she looked at a waving arm outside. “Incredible.” She shook her head. “As long as you don’t expect me to poop outside.”

Stromberg smiled. “We have nice facilities back in the woods.”

“Shouldn’t someone be watching these monitors?” Jennifer asked.

“All the data is automatically stored, and we have algorithms installed that pre-analyze everything. This way, we only have to work with compressed data.”

“How are we doing in here?” Mulder called out from the door opening.

“We’re doing great, I think,” Stromberg answered.

“Impressive operation you’ve got here,” Jennifer added.

“Thank you,” Mulder replied. “Well, out here, the tents are set up, and dinner’s being prepared as we speak. We like to finish up before sundown, at around six. We have to use as little light as possible in the evening, and also make limited noise. So, if you want, there’s fresh water in your tent—the orange one. You can freshen up before dinner if you want to.”

“That’ll be great. Thanks. And thank you for the tour, Mr. Stromberg.”

“Please call me Martin.”

“Will do,” Jennifer replied.

***

As the sun set over the Peruvian rainforest, the last empty dishes were cleared by the contracted crew of local Peruvians. On the long table in front of the cabins, the scientists and Mulder’s team had enjoyed a festive dinner.

“That was a lovely diner,” Jennifer told the woman who cleared the table. “What was it?”

“Aji de Gallina,” the woman replied. “Chicken stew with aji amarillo peppers and boiled potatoes.”

“They made it especially for you, as their guest,” Stromberg added.

“It was delicious. Thank you,” Jennifer acknowledged the woman who gave a bow and moved away backward.

“Who’s up for a coffee and a pisco?” Mulder called out. “It’s just brandy,” he said, winking at Jennifer. “But everything sounds so much better in a foreign language, don’t you agree?”

All hands went up, and Mulder passed out the glasses and a bottle of pisco while Stromberg poured the coffee.

“Sugar and cream are in the treasure chest.” Stromberg pointed to a small wooden box in the center of the table. “So, tell me, Jennifer, how are you doing? Is it your first day in the tropics?”

“As a matter of fact, it is not. I visited Africa many times before, for both pleasure and work, but I’ve never visited South America before, except for the beaches of Acapulco. And I’m feeling great, thank you. It always takes some time getting used to the heat, but that’s about it.”

“This is your first visit on your tour of the isolated tribes?” Stromberg asked.

“It is,