Chapter 13
Helga's pouty red lips clamped over the end of her Bic pen and she chewed unconsciously. The sophomore anthropology major sat in the darkened classroom, lit only the slides on the giant screen. Dr. Harris, a pre-Columbian art history professor, stood at the podium, staunch in her low-heeled pumps and Victorian bun.
"...Here we have an example of the tomb treasures of the Incas. These gold cups were hammered from a single piece of gold. If you look closely, you'll see no seams. When Pizarro returned to Spain, taking the pillaged treasures with him, they melted down the gold and..."
Helga cupped a yawn and tried to concentrate, knowing these facts would be thrown back at her in the final exam next week. She sighed, her shoulders heaving. What did Dr. Harris know about Mexico, really? What was important about a lost civilization and dwelling on useless objects and dead facts that had no relevancy to Helga's life and times? Helga rested her head in an upturned palm and studied her professor, the typical Ivory tower academic who lived in an unreal world of ideas and facts. I'll bet she's never been to bed with a man in her life. Expert on Mexico...? huh! Helga smirked. I could tell her a few things about Mexico... a few facts and figures she'd never forget!