A thin, older man, dressed in a rain jacket, a gray hand-knitted sweater, denim trousers and rubber waders, struggled up the steep climb and stopped to catch his breath. He was far from young and the journey through the Kolyma taiga greatly tired him. The man (or, to be precise, the old man) grabbed the clean and surprisingly fresh air, filled with spring smells, with his open mouth, like a fish thrown ashore by a flood. On his thin, bony face, weather-beaten and tanned, the stamp of troubled times was clearly visible. This is how a sophisticated researcher sees the cuneiform signs of an ancient people on a baked clay tablet.