Claude R. Robertson
December 11, 1960
Egbert Dripley
Professor of Archeology
University of Gertz
Dear Egbert,
Doubtless you will be pleased to hear that excavation of the lost city of Texarkana is proceeding without complications. Each day brings forth a new wealth of artifacts which help to fill in the giant jig-saw puzzle about life in the ancient days of that city.
In my last letter I explained the end fact that life ceased to exist in this “lost city” in one manner—one day it was there. We guess that this was around the beginning of the Great Wars which most of the city-inhabitant in the latter twentieth century. Thus far the chemical analysis dating tests confirm our theory.
You asked about the religion of the people of this lost city. Much remains to be learned, but this far a definite picture is developing.
In the main part of town we found the remains of many huge buildings which we suspect were “temples.” At first we thought they were places of barter, but now we believe they definitely were “temples.” However, it seems that the people combined their business life with their religious life, and therefore confusion on this point is understandable.
As a side note I might add we were fortunate in that the end of the year they came at the time of their religious festival. It has made our work much easier.
Let me picture a typical scene in one of their “temples.” On entering the door one came into a large main chamber. Throughout were situated counters and shelves on which “sacrificial offerings” were for sale. These were sold by “priests” and “priestesses” of the order of the temple, who stored the money of the faithful in devices called “cash registers.” But, dear Egbert, do not gather that it was a peaceful, reverent scene. It was not. It was pandemonium. Contemporary accounts we have unearthed have told us it was sheer chaos. Crowded between the counters frantically—and loudly—trying to buy last minute “sacrificial offerings” before the “temple” closed were hundreds of less than reverent worshippers. Reigning over this scene of confusion was a monolithic statue of the “god” of the people—the Great Klaus.
Imagine the scene! Confusion! Noise! Turmoil!—all presided over by the Great Klaus dressed in a ridiculous suit of red and wearing a scraggly white beard. Throughout the “temple” in smaller chambers were lesser idols of the Great Klaus. Evidently the younger members of the population made some sort of “confession” about how they had been bad or good, and ended by asking favors of the Great Klaus.
The worship of the Great Klaus extended into the home. Here the festival ended the morning of December 25. All the “sacrificial offerings” that the people had bought were placed under a tree (erected in honor, we assume, of the Great Klaus). The morning of December 25th people opened the colorful wrappings of the “sacrificial offerings” and, strangely enough, kept them for themselves.
What about this “god” himself? An amusing mythology had developed around him. It seems his “Mount Olympus” was a place called the “North Pole.” Also, he was not without his helpers—eight tiny reindeer.
Were there religious conflicts? Yes. In several instances we found writings which said something about “Keep Christ in Christmas.” However, it seems that the rather materialistic religion of the Great Klaus had a more popular following. We trust the Great Klaus comforted the people in the final hour of their lives.
I trust that after such a thorough expedition as I have been conducting in this exploration of the “lost city” of Texarkana I will be considered for the opening of Vice-chairman of the Department.
I remain,
Sincerely yours,
Dick Robertson