Clay Remembers by Kashshapu

My continued work on the Oxford clay cylinder had led me deeper into a field of study that no longer feels entirely academic. What began as the digitalisation project in March 2024 now increasingly resembles an opening of the veil covering history... and events long gone.

In late January of 2025, while corresponding with Dr. H. T. LeClair from the Brackleford Museum, I was informed about a discovery made during the joint expedition of the British School of Archaeology in Iraq and the Iraqi Directorate-General of Antiquities. Among the items catalogued at Aqar Quf were two clay cylinders not too unlike the one discovered at Tell al-'Ubaid in 1908 with results published in 1910 [1]. No publication had ever emerged from Aqar Quf's cylinders, and for good reason: the war was raging, priorities shifted. T he cylinders were placed into temporary storage, and later, according to the official narrative, lost in bureaucratic shuffle.

That is until October of 2024. During renovation works on an unoccupied country house near Brackleford, which turned out to be the residence of Ephraim Waite until his death in 1954, workers discovered what they described uncouthly as "weird clay dildos" immured in the south wall of the study room. Knowing that a scholar lived there, they contacted the local museum, whose curator Dr. LeClair took the two objects under his care. While the museum is not specialised in ancient Near East history it is LeClair's hobby horse. So he knew about the digitalisation project which has been conducted at Oxford university. After contacting the project leader LeClair was informed that the universtity had no interest in digitalisation of the newly discovered cylinders. Enreaged by this decision LeClair set forth to fund the digitalisation with his private wealth. It was with this intention, that he got in contact with me in January of 2025.

I met Dr. LeClair in person on the 13th of February, 2025, at the Brackleford Museum. Our correspondence had been concise but cordial, and his final e-mail had simply read: "You must see them for yourself." The museum, a modest institution housed in what had once been a grammar school, was closed to the public that day. In his office he informed me, somewhat sheepishly, that I was the only one who responded to his inquiries. "I wrote twenty others", he said. "Universities, private foundations, even an independent Mesopotamian studies group in Leuven. No interest. You were the only one who replied."

The details he shared were stranger than I had expected. Alongside the cylinders had been a small collection of clay tablets, and, more curiously, a diary which had been sealed within a tin box, immured with the rest behind a false panel in the study room. It was this diary that had led LeClair to believe the cylinders originated from Aqar Quf. According to several entries written in a compressed hand, Waite had acquired the items sometime in the late 1940s through unofficial channels, likely via contacts in the antiquities trade.

He had, for reasons not fully explained, chosen to hide them rather than declare their existence. Reading between the lines however, it was plain to us that he had thought the cylinders and tablets to be linked to ungodly knowledge. Our hypothesis is supported by the private library Waite had amassed during his last years: books dealing with magic, demonology, rituals and alchemy. The translations of the tablets that Waite wrote down were brief but deeply anomalous for any surviving literature from ancient Mesopotamia. LeClair read aloud the three phrases he copied directly from the diary: "Shadows flood the city" "I saw the king’s face — it was not his [face]." "Do not respond to the answer [here probably better translated as "echo"]. It is not your answer." He looked up at me afterwards and said: "Not only do these texts not belong to anything we've catalogued from that period, but they are also highly atypical in style". [Something I can confirm.] "Waite wasn’t just hiding them. He was frightened of them."

I was inquiring if LeClair had already listened to the cylinders, or if he was in the possession of a device similar to the archeophonograph we have used in Oxford last year. LeClair leaned forward, his hands clasped together: "I've actually built my own device," he said with an excited yet firm voice. "I assume you are familiar with Waite's 1910 publication, but have you ever read Lippich's own account of how the archeophonograph was originally constructed?" I had to admit, that I have not; albeit having a scientific background I miss practical technical expertise. He was all so eager to continue, that he almost cut me off mid-sentence: "I came across his Waite's publication when I was still a student, and I was… well, it was like a door opening. Not for a second have I doubted the authenticity of his report and was eager to learn more. However the only publications regarding this topic were refutations of Waite's conclusion that the cylinders were authentic artifacts and after World War I the topic was completely put ad acta. My efforts to gather information were further hindered by the fact that at that time my professors dismissed Waite’s work as nothing more than the ramblings of an eccentric."

"However," he continued, his voice low and measured, "I could not let it rest. It seemed inevitable. Building my own archeophonograph became the only conceivable path forward. Also I wanted to be prepared if I should ever run across a clay cylinder engraved with audio in my future work as curator. I think it was in the summer of 1981 when I began construction.", he added the last sentence somewhat dreamily as if remembering his youthful vigour. "Borrowing my father's tools and following Lippich’s account to miniscule detail it took me the better part of a year to finish my endeavour. Naturally, I had no opportunity to test it; not until a few weeks ago." He looked up, meeting my gaze with quiet intensity. "So yes," he said. "I have listened to the cylinders."

The silence that followed was heavy, giving more weight to his words and I found myself leaning forward, compelled by curiosity. Without another word, LeClair rose and led me through the museum, down a narrow corridor, stopping before a heavy, unmarked door. The room beyond was dim, only lit by shy traces of sunlight that fell through a narrow window. It struck me as odd, that he kept the tablets and cylinders in such a secretive location. Almost as if he felt the need to hide them from curious eyes.

Under these circumstances, it is only natural that not only my body but also my mind was tense with anticipation as LeClair turned on the archeophonograph and fitted the first cylinder into place. I had braced myself for a sonic onslought of cacophonic sounds that might evoke abysmal horrors at the very bottom of my soul. Yet what emerged was not terror, but something calmer. Immediately the contrast to the cylinder from Tell al-'Ubaid was obvious. While the earlier artifact was more abrasive and haunting the tones from Aqar Quf were subdued. Not peaceful -mind you- but weary, unobtrusive, almost resignative.

As the final tones faded into the dim corners of the room we sat for a moment in silence. LeClair did not speak immediately but finally said to me: "And this is where I need your help. The recordings are too ephemeral. The archeophonograph picks them up, yes, but we need to set them in stone and not clay, so to speak. Each playback varies slightly with each run. It's mechanical after all: sensitive to tension in the belt, the humidity of the room, even the warmth of the brass stylus. If we are to preserve what is on these cylinders with any scientific integrity, we must digitise them properly." I knew, this was the reason I was here, yet when LeClair spoke those words I once more agreed to help with my experience it felt like I was sealing a pact. A pact from which I cannot escape and which ultimately will take me down a dark side alley of history.

The digitalisation process for the Tell al-'Ubaid cylinder had required a setup that bordered on the obsessive: a sound-dampened room, isolation mounts, and, crucially, an array of ultra-sensitive microphones arranged with exact position. I asked LeClair what equipment he had on hand, however he had nothing that would fulfill our demands. I could see the frustration in his eyes, but I didn't want to lose time. "We will need to acquire the right equipment," I said "And we will have to calibrate the system: check the speed and the consistency of the playback. Each cylinder will take several playthroughs to get the cleanest result."

The next few days were a blur of phone calls and e-mails. I managed to secure three condenser microphones from a seller in London which were apt for our task. They wouldn't be here for another 48 hours, but the rest of the setup came together more quickly, which gave us time to prepare the room before we began setting up the microphones. A sound-dampened room was located in the museum's basement, unused for years, but perfect for the task. I insisted on a proper isolation platform for the phonograph.

When the microphones arrived, we set them up around the archeophonograph, one directly infront of the horn, one to the left and one to the right. The trick was to angle them precisely, ensuring even capture without phase interference. We mounted them on shock-absorbing brackets to avoid any unwanted vibrations from the room itself, routed their output into an audio device and then into a DAW.

By the time we were ready to begin, everything was in place: the microphones, the isolators, the recorder, and the platform. It felt almost like preparing a delicate surgical procedure. And yet, as I looked at LeClair, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were about to awaken something that might better be left undisturbed. With a final nod, I signaled we were ready. "Let’s begin."

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[1] Waite, E., New Developments in Sumeroacoustic Studies, Royal Journal of Assyriology, vol. 12, 1910, pp. 34-52.

Full text on the tablets:
𒍣𒅋𒇻𒌓 𒀀𒀠𒅎 𒀴𒄷𒊻
ṣi2-il-lu-u4 a-al-im ir3-ḫu-uṣ
ṣillū ālim irḫuṣ
"Shadows flood the city"

𒉺𒀭 𒈗𒅎 𒀀𒄯𒑰 𒌌 𒉺𒀭𒋗
pa-an LUGAL.im a-mur / ul pa-an-šu
pān šarrim āmur / ul pānšu
"I saw the king’s face — it was not his face."

𒀀𒉺𒀀𒅆 𒆷 𒋰𒁀𒀠 𒌌 𒀀𒁀𒀠𒂵
a-pa-a-lim la tap-pa2-al ul a-pa2-al-ka3
apālim lā tappal. ul apālka.
"Do not respond to the answer. It is not your answer."