I suppose I’m not exactly all that human anymore. I tell myself as I read the letter once more. It only figures that the Council would manage to mix insults together with compliments even on something as important as this. The letter detailed the recent discovery of a mummified dragon - of which I found very exciting. This excitement, as always, was dampened by the reminder that I could never truly be one of them.

The Council made no small effort in their reminders that I was once human, despite it being some two hundred years now. I suppose that to a dragon, two hundred years seems rather small and short lived. To a human thrust into the world of a secret and powerful society? You could say it was a lot.

But none of that mattered now because they chose me to study the body. While so many dragons took off on more nobler deeds to hide their existence, a studied dead dragons. Others would do something like business or government, but I flourished when it came to animals. In my time since Turning, I was able to study both biology and paleontology. That meant I could look at both dead and really dead dragons.

Of course, I wasn’t everybody’s favorite choice. It took a while to actually get to where I was just a few years ago, but now I’m finally being recognized for what I am. I’m a professional, I’m good at what I do. The Council might even take my thesis on the origin of dragons into consideration.

Of course, that was all well and good, but I was left with all of the prep work for this thing. While I’ve been the owner and curator of a local fossil museum for a few years now, it was just that, a fossil museum. There was no place to properly store a frozen and mummified juvenile dragon. While the Council may provide the funds, I was left with all of the legwork. I had already begun to envision exactly what I would do, all that was left was actually doing it. That was the part that was a lot harder than it sounded. I find that I work better outside of the house, so I grab my things and go.

I drIve down the country hillside from my house - courtesy of the Council - to the small town of Burnt Rock where a small yet well funded fossil museum resided - also a courtesy of the Council. No one could say they were stingy or didn’t take care of their own, that was for sure. And no one really blinked an eye at the anonymous donations to the museum every year.

My house is pretty nice, at least I think as much as I drive through the outskirts of town. Most of the houses are your average twentieth century homes, with plastic siding, a porch, a few windows, and a front door. But my house? I guess the Council had hoped to put someone more well-to-do in their than a not-quite-human paleontologist because the place was nice. It was sleek with a postmodern design that included floor to ceiling windows as it sat on the edge of a cliff. It was beautiful, up high and far away. Everything a dragon could want. Somehow, I ended up with it. I stopped asking questions a long while ago. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

The drive took a little more than half an hour but I still got to the museum early, the sun creating a lazy pink as I park at the museum. I hop out of my car and practically jumping up the steps to the front door. It was not a grand museum like the Field Museum in Chicago or the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, but it was nice.

The front steps were a clean concrete and were newer than the building itself. It had probably been a bank once, given the columns that supported the front and overall roman-esque facade. Oh, and not to mention the giant safe that was too much of a hassle to remove. The thing was an eye sore in my office now, taking up far too much space than was necessary.

The first room inside was the ground floor, and what had once been an old teller desk was now the admittance desk. It was handy that the two often looked similar and functioned just about the same. The room was clean, with an off white floor and clean white walls.

There was a small display in the receiving area, a set up of a small theropod dinosaur to entice viewers to come in. It wasn’t a Tyrannosaurus or Triceratops, but I did my best to make it look nice. The small Velociraptor could live on name alone, and it brought tourists into the museum. The small fossilized skeleton was put in a glass case and oriented as if it were alive, jumping through the air with its sickle claws on display. Personally I loved it, but it was not uncommon to hear the disappointment over just how small it was. Or that it was mostly a replica, to those who noticed that anyway. But some of it was real, and that was enough for me to admire it as I stepped into the room before taking a sharp right into the hall that lead to my office.

Having been a bank some long time ago, a lot of the rooms had been repurposed. While the Council had been kind enough to fund some renovations, they did not fund a total renovation. Did I mention they were actually kind of stingy?

It was fine with me, I made it work. It just meant having a giant safe that took up about almost a third of my office space. To be fair, the room was kind of small to begin with. It had been the room the safe was originally in, meant only to house the safe and any other number of things that could go behind the barred and locked door. Between that and the shelves in the safe, it was a good place to store a number of dragon related artifacts. Most of them were simple items like a fossilized tooth or an old claw and knuckle bone. Other items included a few finds from various archaeological dig sites. Really it was a collection of nick-knacks.

My favorite part of the room had to be the mahogany wood desk in the center. I ran my fingers over the cool wood as I walked around the room, the smooth surface a small source of comfort. There was just something nice about something so clean and smooth. It had all the usual things like a name plaque, a computer, and some small token that said “see? I really am a scientist!” Although in my case it came off as “dino-nerd” instead of scientist. It was the first fossil I had ever found, a clean impression of a Eurypterid. It was one of the few things that tied me back to my humanity, reminded me of where I came from. I run my thumb down the hard surface of it, reflecting on how I had never even begun to imagine where my life would lead me when I found this rock. It could have been a lot better. A dark voice says in the back of my mind. You could have been normal.

I shake the negative thoughts away, focusing on the positive. I am the director of a museum, I own some of the rarest artifacts from cultures unknown by the general populace, and I get to work on a mummified dragon. I’d say that checks off every box on the list for most people in my position. Then again, most people aren’t secretly a fire-breathing flying lizard.

I quickly drop my leather shoulder bag on the floor next to my desk and fall into my seat, ready to get to work. I don’t expect to see any people today, or even leave this room, so I’ve dressed far more casually than usual. Loose jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie are all I need for work like this. I mean, they have the museum logo so I’m not completely a mess.

It’s going to be a long day, and a part of my brain still balks at the idea of all that I have to do, but I decide to push through it. I need this to be perfect, to prove that the Council was right to choose me. I need to show them that I can do so much more than the scraps of work they’ve given me. More than that, I want to do more. I’ve had more than enough time to develop my passion for my career, however spiteful I may have been at the start.

I hear the distant jingle of keys and the sound of shoes on the enamel floor before one of my two employees, Beth, calls out. I make a swift hello before diving back into my work. I pull out a stack of blank papers and well rummage around for the construction plans of this place. I can use it to sketch out the ideas for how to make the room that will house the mummy. Finding the plans in the very back of the large safe, I slump back into my comfortable office chair and start drafting plans for what is essentially an ice box.

I was sent more than a few notes on what would be needed to house the frozen creature, and at first the numbers had shocked me. A temperature controlled room that held all the equipment needed to do an autopsy as well as storage for all of the material collected and the tools to work with. The basement of the building was already full of shelves where plenty of specimens had been collected. It might not be a lot for some places, but it was enough to fill our small basement. I swiftly draft up an email to inquire about more space for these objects before returning to my research.

Not many museums have actually worked with frozen mummies, so I found out. I suppose there’s a reason they’re famous. I think with a wry smile as I flip through tabs on my desktop computer. It might not be the most greatest and latest model but it’s still a good one, and all it really needs to do is access the internet. Unfortunately it would seem that the information on building something like this is rather niche and limited. I wring my hands through my hair, realizing that I’ve already managed to spend an hour just searching through websites for more information.

“Morning!” Beth calls from the other side of my door, opening it up with her hip. She’s carrying a large box with both hands, and is smiling broadly at me as she walks in. She’s a bit younger than me - I mean, me when I was Turned some two hundred years ago - at around twenty-one years of age. Her auburn hair comes down in waves and sits just past her shoulders and her black and silver rimmed glasses sit nicely on her small nose among the freckles on her cheeks and outlining her forest green eyes. She was by all means cute as a button.

I on the other hand, was your average blonde. Not even one of those nice blond blondes, but a brown-like dirty blonde with thick wavy hair, a clean face, and deep blue eyes. Although I had been considered beautiful a few hundred years ago, I felt painfully average now. I suppose it was my looks that got me here, a sad little part of my heart remembers. I tuck it away for later as I greet Beth.

“Hey,” I say cheerily, though it almost feels forced. “Whatcha got there?” I ask her, watching her as she lugs the heavy box over to my desk. She all but drops it down on the hard wood surface, nearly squashing my papers - and my fingers - in the process.

“Dunno,” Beth replied a with a shrug. “But it’s got your name on it.” She offered with a smile, and I can tell she’s just here to see me open the package. I give her a knowing grin before responding.

“Alright, alright, but then I really have to get back to work.” I tell her, putting my pen down and shoving my papers neatly aside. Taking a look on the package slip, I see that it is in fact my package. The only issue is, I don’t remember ordering anything, nor can I recall anything being sent to me by the Council or anybody else. I look at it, confused, as I try to wrack my brain for something that just isn’t there. Even more strange, the text from the sender appears to be in an Asian language, though I’m not definite on which one.

“Well?” Beth asks impatiently. “Won’t you open it?” She urges, her tone almost pleading. I try to sigh and roll my eyes but I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. I suppose when you live the indefinite age of a dragon, you grow a lot of patience. I pull open a few of my drawers until I find a pair of scissors, opening them up and using one side to cut through the several layers of tape.

Honestly it was a little embarrassing with how much I struggled to get this thing open, but to be fair it had been wrapped up, cut open by customs, and then wrapped up again. This tape was thick, but I eventually manage to get the scissors to cut it open - thought not without a couple of laughs from Beth. One look from me gets her to stop, at least kind of. She pulls a hand up to her face to conceal it while I continue to work at the bulky package.

I open it to find a heavy layer of packing peanuts, so much so that I have no idea what’s even inside. Beth attempts to peer in as I dig through the packing peanuts. Several of them go flying out as my hands find purchase on something that feels like a wooden box. I keep digging, looking for the bottom and wrapping my fingers around it. I carefully pull the wooden box out of it’s packaging, spilling more packing peanuts in the way.

Still holding the wooden box, I try to shove the shipping box out of the way with my elbows. Beth takes the hint and hurriedly removes the shipping box, giving me the room I need to set the wooden box on my desk. I set it down with a small oomph and a thump as it hits my desk.

The box is unassuming, a simple polished wood with soft corners. It’s not a dark wood like my desk, or light like a birch, just an average brown wood. On top is a script carved into the wood, in an Asian language I couldn’t understand. It has a simple faux gold latch, which I gingerly undo and lift the lid. Inside was a pristine type of packaging, the kind that fit the form of the object perfectly with a layer of red silk to cover it. Nestled in the form fitting silk was a metal statue of a dog and a puppy. It was clearly a mother and child, the detail and the features exquisite. The lines of the fur down the the little claws on their feet looked almost lifelike. The mother dog was sitting while the puppy was frozen in a roll, playing in front of it’s mother, both of them having curled tails and serious looking faces. It was beautiful, but I still had no idea who would send this. I pick the statue up, holding it with both hands so that Beth and I can see it.

“What is it? I mean, I know it’s a dog but…” Beth asks, her voice trailing off as we both try to figure it out. Beth and I both turn our heads at an angle, as if that would suddenly reveal something. It did not. I turn back to the box and the rest of its contents.

Inside were a few other things which clued me in to exactly what language it was in and who sent it. There are a few small charms with various images and symbols, all small and rather cute in nature. One even has a matching dog on it. The most important part is the letter though, which I immediately pull out. Setting the statue down on the desk, I grab the scissors to open the letter.

“Well, who’s it from?” Beth asks as I begin to rip the letter open, finding the same struggle as I had with the box. Now it’s just sad, I think as I nearly resort to just ripping it open. Beth snorts a laugh, and this time is not dissuaded by my look. Perhaps I should better develop my evil eye.

“It says its from Heisei Takahashi.” I say, though my voice is mumbled as I skim the letter. Beth makes a noise, though I’m not sure if it’s annoyance or surprise.