Leaving the grocer with Peter and Chip in tow, Minervie loaded the kids and her groceries into her 1950 Studebaker Champion, in Turquoise, and started to head away from home.
She got caught up at a Rail Road crossing. Thirty hopper cars, all marked "Coke Express" lumbering by down the river tracks. With no end in sight, Minervie decided to drive up river to maybe find the end of the train.
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 62: Jurassic Era
1/19/26 #TimeTravelAuthors A character's goal #Wss366 #coke (implied)
The two of us spent the next couple of days playing cards and observing the pyramids. We learned more about the former than the latter. I taught Emily pinochle, and she taught me bezique. She liked that pinochle was more intense; I liked that bezique took its time. We had plenty of it to kill. Now and then we mixed up the terminology, which led to some friendly squabbling.
More importantly, we learned creatures avoided the pyramids. This wasn't immediately apparent, as flying creatures took flight from the pyramid closest to us. That was until one flew near us.
“An ornithopter,” I exclaimed as a pterodactyl-like machine flew by.
“A what?”
“An airplane that flies by flapping its wings.”
Emily shook her head. “At least it’s not trying to kill us. Still, no sane pilot would trust that.”
“Sane or not, we had better try our experiment before one of those spots us.”
“Agreed. We’d be in a jam if they knew we were here.”
We joined hands and repeated together: “We want to be on the central island five minutes after the big ornithopter took off.”
The cave faded, and we stood with the central pyramid in front of us, a towering mass of coral.
Emily touched it and asked, “Do you think it grew here?”
“I don’t know. I’d believe anything at this point.”
“Holy moley! Wait, I think there’s writing over there.”
We walked down a beach of pink sand, prehistoric shells, and fine, black ash until we faced the words carved into the pyramid:
OCULUS APERTUS ERAT
ANTEQUAM REGES ESSENT
We guided the fire.
We guided the crown.
We shall guide the end.
“Masons/Illuminati,” we said at the same time.
What followed was a laugh, a strained echo of our squabbling over cards.
The laughter trailed off as we looked at each other.
“Nazis, Illuminati, eldritch horrors—why do we have to be the chosen ones?” I said, collapsing against the monolith.
Coca Cola has been replicated 😆
Why he didn't brand it LabCokes I'll never know

The Coca Cola secret formula is one of the best kept secrets in recent history...and I hate secrets. So, naturally, I deciphered it with the help of mass spe...