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                 A REMARKABLE FIND
                  author unknown

The pins-and-needles feeling of transport eased, and Captain
Picard's vision returned.  He took a moment to get his bearings,
looking over the large excavation site a few kilometers from the
Potomac River.  Picard had read about the excavations of the old
United States capital in one of his archaeological journals.  He
wondered idly why he had been called here, and why he had been
ordered to bring Data along.

Two of the archaeologists approached them.  The one in the
lead was a woman approximately Picard's age, medium height with a
round, smiling face and greying black hair.  Slightly behind her
and to the left was a taller, younger, straw-haired man with a
harsh expression.  "Captain Picard?" the woman asked, shaking his
hand firmly, "I'm Emma Peel, the senior archaeologist on this dig.
This is Dr. Illya Kuryakin, our expert on political history."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Peel. I'm familiar with your
work; archaeology is a hobby of mine.  And of course, Dr. Kuryakin,
your knowledge must be invaluable in an excavation of such a
politically-significant site." Kuryakin nodded in curt
acknowledgement of the compliment.

"I suppose your wondering why we've brought you here." Peel
said.  She started walking back toward the excavation site, and
gestured for the others to follow.  "We've made a find of
potentially enormous significance, a find suggesting that we have
vastly underestimated the technological level of Earth's 20th
century."

They walked down an ancient set of stairs with a faded red
line down the middle.  "As you know," Dr. Peel continued, "this
city, known then as Washington D.C., was the capital of the United
States of America, one of the most powerful nation-states in 20th
century Earth.  We have discovered several sets of offices buried
deep underground.  We believe these are the offices of a covert
intelligence organization of the mid-Cold War era."

At the bottom of the stairs, a set of doors, much like
turbolift doors, slid open.  As the doors slid shut behind them,
Picard turned back to look at the door, and shook his head in
confusion.  He recognized the design from his Dixon Hill holodeck
program, but he could not understand why the doors leading to the
stairs were painted to look like a 20th century elevator!

Picard dismissed the peculiarity and returned to the
conversation, following the red line down the corridor.  He
surmised, "These offices were used to spy on the other major power
of the day, the ..." he searched for the name, "Soviet Union?"  A
set of steel doors folded open from the center, revealing another
set of steel doors a few feet down the corridor.

"No." Kuryakin interjected, "Although most intelligence
activities of that time were focused on the Soviet Union, this one
was not."   The next set of steel doors slid open to the side,
rather than folding out from the center as before, and revealed yet
another set of steel doors.  "You see, the espionage business was
a bureaucracy of sorts, existing for the sake of existing, and
proliferating far beyond need.  CONTROL, as this organization was
known, was formed specifically to deal with a private espionage and
terrorist organization: KAOS."

The third set of steel doors lifted upward.  Picard braced
himself for the possibility that it would reveal yet another set of
steel doors, but it did not.  This time, it revealed a wall with
bars painted on it, not particularly convincingly.  Peel and
Kuryakin took this irrationality in stride, so Picard tried to
ignore it.  "CONTROL and KAOS." he mused, "I've never heard of
those organizations before.  What do the initials stand for?"

"As far as we can tell," Kuryakin replied, "nothing at all.
The two organizations co-existed relatively peacefully, both fully
aware that without the other, they would all be unemployed.  So
while each tried to thwart the other's schemes, neither ever
seriously contemplated eliminating the other."

The bars slid aside, revealing a small booth marked
"TELEPHONE."  Dr. Peel picked up the narrative.  "The CONTROL
office we have found seems to have been largely abandoned by the
late 20th century, but continued to be maintained by ... well,
maybe you'd better see that for yourself."

Dr. Peel squeezed into the elevator with Picard, picked up the
telephone, and placed a coin it.  The floor of the booth promptly
slid downward like a turbolift.  Picard sighed in amazement at the
barbaric paranoia of these people.  The lift then returned to the
upper level, bringing down Kuryakin and Data.

Peel opened a door marked "FILE ROOM."  Inside was an enormous
room filled with filing cabinets.  In the middle of the room, a man
stood over an open drawer with a file in his hand.  At first,
Picard thought he was one of the archaeologists, studying the
files.  Then Picard realized that he wasn't moving.

Picard took a closer look at the man.  He was tall, broad-
shouldered and square-jawed, with glossy black hair and dark,
brooding eyes.  He was wearing a business suit in the style of the
late 20th century.  "Mr. Data, analysis." Picard requested.

Data pulled out his tricorder and did a quick analysis on the
motionless man.  "Remarkable." Data breathed.

"Is he human?"

"No, sir.  He is an android.  Or, perhaps robot is a more
accurate description.  His construction is not as sophisticated as
my own."

Peel noted, "Now you see why we wanted Mr. Data to take a look
at this find."

"Yes." Picard murmured, "This is far beyond 20th century
technology as we know it."

The robot made a creaking noise.  It sounded like he was
saying, "Er-ka."

"Er-ka?" Picard asked, "What does 'er-ka' mean?"

Peel sighed.  "We've been trying to figure that out for weeks
now.  That's all he does.  He just stands there and occasionally
says 'er-ka.'  We didn't want to move him until Mr. Data had a
chance to look at him in the setting where we found him."

"Er-ka" the robot repeated, "Erl-ka"

Data commented, "I believe he is trying to say 'oil can.'"