Creatures of Other Mould

I.

The Museo Waldemar Julsrud squatted on the edge of town. Looking past it, you could see the end of the road and beyond that the green hills of Guanajuato State. Charles Hapgood must not have spent much time in central Mexico back in the 1960s, when he wrote that this area was arid and eroded—any spot that’s brown in the spring heat is sure to be green in the rains of summer. The museum looked to be an exception. Its stucco walls were the color of weathered bone, and its blue lettering, which could have been copied from the cover of an old Arthur C. Clarke paperback, was faded and spotty. The place might have been five years old or fifty. One thing was for certain, it didn’t seem inclined to reveal any secrets about the age of the weird figures housed inside —­ a collection of strange clay statuettes whose authenticity had been debated for half a century by pseudo­scientists, amateur archaeologists, and investigators of the paranormal. I looked at my two traveling companions, Luis and Oliver.

“Here it is,” I said to them. “The home of Waldemar Julsrud’s lost world in clay.” Their faces gave no indications of their thoughts. I had invited Oliver to take part in this investigation because of his logistical skills and diplomatic connections; Luis, for his psychological training and knowledge of pre-­Columbian art. Also because they spoke Spanish.

“Vamos?” I said.

We stepped inside.

“These are all fake?” Oliver asked, bending over one of the glass cases. The small cases that ringed the few cramped exhibit rooms of the museum stood at waist height. Apparently, comfortable viewing of their contents was impossible. Inside were the baffling clay pieces to which Waldemar Julsrud had devoted twenty years of his life.

“I don’t think they all are,” I said, speaking in a low voice. The place was nearly empty, but the museum’s sole attendant, a saggy, middle-­aged man, had been trailing us suspiciously since we paid our ten-peso admission.

The clay figurines in the first case looked genuine. Luis pointed out the trademark style of the Chu­pícuaro Indians, who occupied the Acámbaro area as early as 400 B.C.E.: Stylized human figures, only about five inches tall, they had flat bodies, rounded feet, and oversize heads, like gingerbread men. They were ornamented with diagonal scoring and fine braids. Their eyes resembled narrow, slanting coffee beans. They had a mischievous look to them.

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