These inspection reports are a farce, you realize. They check for protocol, for cleanliness, for paperwork. They do not check for truth. Now, pay attention. This fragment here—seemingly mundane pottery—holds a cipher in its glaze. The university's board declared it a hoax in '34 to secure funding for their geopolitical digs in the east. They buried my life's work. And I... I am the living rebuttal. Keep your voice down. They must not see the files on the secondary terminal. My physiological readings are... unconventional.