Chapter Text
Dr. Henry Jones stared at the reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of his white undershirt that was underneath a sleek, black suit and tie. The brown hair on his head was slicked back. He took a step back and examined himself. He looked... professional, but it was a look that reminded him of the slimy used car salesman back in Princeton, or even worse, the politicians who treated Capitol Hill like a high stakes game of musical chairs.
He frowned at his reflection. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, loosening it from the grip of the gel, as he eventually puffed it up to the natural, wavy gentlemen's cut that he had sported during his younger years. Though, the body which stared back at him was one of a man still in his late 30s.
The past two days had been a lot to process for Henry, or rather, Indiana. It was a day like any other; having since retired after a long career of teaching and archeology, Indy now spent the majority of his evenings watching the news with mild interest: specifically, that one was about the newfangled "Super Nintendo" toy that was all the rage among the kids these days. He never thought there'd be a day a Japanese word that wasn't "Tojo" entered the American lexicon, but it had come in his lifetime, and in a world that was fast leaving the Second Great War behind.
Maybe it was God showing his usual sense of humor, because in his next waking moment, he suddenly found himself in a city with a Greek name, a city that was about the size of the entire continental United States combined with Canada, run by and mostly consisting of teenage girls with Japanese names and social sensibilities. While Indy could speak Japanese as well as any native, he hadn't done so for decades, so perhaps it was mercy from the Lord that English appeared to be their primary language, and perhaps a test of his ability to resist temptation as he had been thrown back into the body of a young man again.
"You look great, Henry-sensei!" a cheerful, bubbly voice came from a small, white, slate-like computer on a nearby coffee table. "Don't fuss around so much. You've got the ladykiller look down perfect."
Indy chuckled, walking over to a nearby coffee machine as he inserted a coffee pod with a colorful cartoon graphic into the holder, pressing down on the mechanism and setting it to brew a single cup. The strong aroma filled his nose, and the sound of the gurgling machine soothed his mind. Whatever was in there, it smelled a hell of a lot better than Folgers.
"A couple of days ago, I was a doddering old man with one foot in the grave," Indy began, his deep baritone every bit as smooth as the coffee he was making was shaping up to be. "And the day after that, I'm suddenly in the best years of my life again, in a city of teenage girls... and now I'm going to work. Can you really blame me?"
"You were a teacher before, too. It's not so different now, right?" the white computer replied cheerfully. "Only this time, your students will actually pay attention."
"They paid attention before too, but not in the ways I wanted," Indy countered, though his voice remained playful. "I had a student confess to me, once, twice... more than I can count, really. Something tells me things won't change just because I'm not home anymore. And besides..."
"Still thinking about Marion?" Arona, the name of the white computer, asked, and Indy nodded. "You know she would want you to be happy."
"I know," Indy replied. He took his mug of fresh coffee and moved to the table where the slate-like computer sat, turning it around until he could see the avatar of the artificial intelligence he had been conversing with: her light, pastel blue hair was adorned with a white rabbit-eared headband, her eyes the same deep color as that of the ocean's waves. The white sailor uniform she wore completed her friendly, approachable appearance. "And I still miss my son. I'm pretty sure my time came, so I was hoping to see him again here. Though, if this is heaven, then maybe it's just a pretty big place."
"Come on, don't talk about depressing stuff like that," Arona pouted, before shifting back to her original, smiling disposition.
Indy sipped on the piping hot coffee, and he had to admit that it was a lot smoother than he expected. The flavor was also much more pronounced and richer, too. It was enough for him to wonder why no one had come up with the idea of coffee pods back in his world yet. It was certainly a lot better than Folgers. "Right, sorry."
"Besides, you should be excited! You've always wanted to do this. The way you told me about, oh, what was it, the Holy Grail? Fighting the evil army, rescuing your dad, getting out of the temple just as it collapsed... you had fun doing all those things, didn't you?"
"I mean, yeah. But that has more to do with archeology than it does the act of teaching. Or... reading and responding to letters."
"Well, it's a good thing I'm a super advanced AI, and people here send most things by e-mail anyway!"
"Electronic mail... I will never get used to this." Indy finished his cup of coffee, before setting it aside as he picked the slate-computer containing Arona, moving to his work desk as he did so. "Everything here is so alien. It's as if the things I discovered were the norm rather than the exception."
Dr. Jones plopped himself down on the plush, black leather seat, his desk and the surrounding walls adorned with guns and diagrams containing various infographics regarding trends and statistics. He observed a nearby map detailing the various districts of Kivotos, the city he now found himself residing in. If his theory that he had passed away peacefully in his sleep was correct, then he had, in a sense, been placed inside an Ark.
The bright blue sky just outside the skyscraper windows cast its warm light inside his office, illuminating it in a way that made his skin feel rejuvenated, despite being indoors. He had forgotten what it was like to have sunlight not be an enemy to the health of his skin. He had also forgotten how comfortable it felt to have a seat that wasn't a stool or a wooden rocking chair.
As Indy unfolded a keyboard from the tablet's case, Arona displayed the first of many emails on the screen, reading a summary of its contents out loud. Indy, having been used to the buckling springs on the keyboards and typewriters back on Earth, the paper-thin membrane keys he was currently working on were something else entirely. His fingers were not used to typing on something that didn't offer the same degree of travel and tactile feedback. Still, he adapted quickly, and his speed wasn't too far off as it was back during his years as a professor.
"This one's from Wildhunt Art Academy," Arona began. "It reads: Good morning, Jones-sensei, we would appreciate your assistance on our upcoming festival where..." Arona stopped, audibly confused by the rest of the contents. "Well, I can't read the rest of this. It's just runes and gibberish. Not very professional of them."
Indy stopped to take a look, a wave of recognition washing over him as he saw the ancient alphabet and symbols. "I think these are hieroglyphics, Arona. Looks like their way of seeing whether I'm knowledgeable about... the occult?" Dr. Jones shook his head and continued reading. "Well, I wouldn't mind giving them a helping hand, but we have more important things to worry about right now."
"That we do," Arona confirmed. "We won't be able to clear out the queue of requests for the next several days. Do you want me to draft a response?"
"No, that won't be necessary. This will be good practice for my speechmaking, if nothing else."
"Could you tell me another story while you work, then? All work and no play makes Arona a dull AI."
"Sure, why not. Having someone to talk to helps me focus, anyway." Indy began typing up a response that struck the right balance between formality and friendliness as he simultaneously practiced his craft in nonfictional retellings. "Back where I'm from, there’s a place called Atlantis..."