The second layer was thick, pristine obsidian—volcanic glass. The geologist was completely tongue-tied. To find tungsten ore and volcanic glass nested perfectly inside one another was a geological impossibility. Volcanic glass requires rapid surface cooling from molten lava, while tungsten minerals are deposited over millennia by superheated deep-earth fluids. Seeing them organized like a deliberate set of Russian nesting dolls made no scientific sense.
The crew was now utterly hooked. They brought over a specialized diamond-bladed circular saw normally used to score concrete pipes. Working with absolute precision, they sliced a shallow groove into the black glass, then gently tapped it with a copper chisel. A massive, curved plate of obsidian flaked away, sliding into the mud.
Beneath the black glass lay a third, completely different substance. It wasn’t cold rock or sharp glass. It was a dense, deep-orange, semi-translucent material that glowed when the crew shone their high-powered work lights against it. It was amber—the fossilized, hardened resin of prehistoric trees.