Telecom Informer
by The Prophet
Hello, and greetings from the Central Office!
The acrid smell of smoke hangs in the air as yet another forest fire burns in the vicinity. It's a relatively new thing in the Pacific Northwest that thousands of acres of timberlands burn every summer, but it's also a relatively new thing that summer now extends pretty far into fall. This does mean that outside plant construction can run later into the year than usual, though, so I took the weather as an opportunity to move the underground fiber project I'm working on ahead of schedule. My project was tracking really well until suddenly, one day, it stopped. You see, if we had planned our dig just two feet away, we'd never have dug up a human hand, and my life would be a lot easier.
Construction guys are a rough and tumble bunch and very little fazes them, so when an ashen-faced equipment operator tapped me on the shoulder and said "we have a problem," I took notice. Everyone had stopped what they were doing when I got on site, and there it was - a hand, or at least bones that used to be a hand. The fact that it was human was unmistakable, but it had clearly been there for a long time - decades at least. There is a protocol for this (which was part of our permit), so I pulled it out and we executed on the plan.
The first thing we're required to do when something like this happens is immediately stop work and secure the area. There are numerous laws around this (both state and federal), and intentionally disturbing cultural relics is a serious crime. No job is worth going to jail over, so even though the company would probably prefer that we look the other way, we do it by the book. The company was required by our permit to hire an archaeological monitor from the local Indian tribe, so the first call was to them. Most unmarked remains found in the area are those of their ancestors, and the tribe has multiple archaeologists on staff to coordinate with the university archaeologist the company hires. This is the first stage in a very long process of archaeological argumentation, none of which I particularly understand but which very much does impact the project. Over time, the tribe, the university archaeologist, and the city's archaeologist (we're building within city limits) will negotiate whether and how the project can resume. But all of that is for much later. The first call just starts the process. To start, the archaeological monitor will show up on site, take detailed notes, and ensure that the site has been properly secured.
The next stop is the cultural resources program manager. That's a different department of the local Indian tribe, which works closely with the archaeological monitor. These folks aren't scientists; they're project managers, and they make sure that all of the appropriate parties are notified and engaged.
Finally, and this is the stuff of Halloween nightmares, someone has to cover the human remains with a tarp. You're not allowed to bury them again, and no photos are allowed either. That's one of my responsibilities when I'm in charge of the job site, but I sure wish it wasn't.
As you can imagine, all of this can be very disruptive to an ongoing project. Even though work on the project can theoretically continue in the area that isn't immediately adjacent to the find, in practice, this can be tough. The cultural resources project manager and the archaeological monitor ultimately make the call about where we're allowed to work. The area they decide to cordon off is then considered off-limits. Nobody is allowed to walk through, we can't bring any equipment through, and we can't drive any vehicles through either. It's a no-go zone. Naturally, this particular no-go zone was in the most inconvenient location possible, in a narrow passage between two steep hillsides with limited access.
It's not just an archaeologist (two of them, actually) who is involved. The police get involved too. Any time that human remains are found, the medical examiner (and potentially the police) have to first investigate and clear the scene. However, they're not in command. That would be the state Department of Archaeology and Historic Preservation (DAHP), who has jurisdiction over non-forensic human remains. They work with the county medical examiner and, if applicable, the police. In some areas, the county medical examiner can decide on their own whether foul play is suspected, and the police don't always respond. However, in this area, the medical examiner and police respond together, and the police treat every unexpected discovery of human remains as a crime scene. This is because a serial killer was active in the area in the 1980s, and his victims haven't all been found. The detectives, presumably, know the telltale signs.
The police respond the way that you would expect them to if a body was found. They put up police tape, and detectives interview everyone involved. Finding unmarked human remains during excavations isn't especially uncommon in this area, though, and police detectives were able to quickly close the case: no foul play suspected. This allowed the physical anthropologist access to do her work. Yes, it's not just archaeologists who get involved. The physical anthropologist's job is to determine whether the remains are Native American. If they are, the local tribe becomes involved in ensuring that the remains are handled in a dignified way according to their cultural practices (in coordination with DAHP, who retains command).
The archaeological process is extensive, thorough, and there are very strict protocols followed (down to the size of the mesh used for screening sediments), which is why it takes so long. Archaeologists extensively document any remains and artifacts found. No stone is left unturned: site overviews, features, and artifacts are all photographed. Discovery locations are marked on area maps. Every piece of prehistoric or cultural material is thoroughly documented. Sometimes, it turns out that a major archaeological site has been discovered, meaning that the construction project will probably never be able to proceed in the area. If you're lucky and there isn't much found, an archaeological investigation can be wrapped up in a few months. You're seldom that lucky.
Once DAHP agrees that the archaeological investigation is complete, the city government becomes involved - after all, they issued the permit. The city requires a detailed and thorough report which is reviewed by city staff, forwarded to the State Historic Preservation Office, and also forwarded to the local Indian tribe. Depending upon where something like this happens, federal agencies can also become involved (fortunately in our case, the federal government won't be involved because the site was discovered within city limits). Construction can theoretically resume once city officials are satisfied that we have followed all of the rules and everyone is happy. However, we will often need to ask for a variance to the original permit based on the results of the archaeological assessment (if there are additional remains suspected in the same area, we wouldn't want to dig those up and repeat the whole process; we'd instead change the plan). Depending upon what and where that is, this can take months.
How long will all of this take, end-to-end? It's anyone's guess. We're only in the second inning. If I had to guess, it'll be nine months to over a year before this entire process is complete. At that point, I'll be a minimum of six months late instead of three months early. Infuriatingly, I warned the project owner that this was a risk. There were perfectly good poles that we could have strung the fiber on. However, they're owned by the local electric cooperative, and the company thought it'd somehow be cheaper in the long run to dig trenches versus paying to attach to their utility poles (that's a whole other column).
And - wait, what's that? A fire watch siren? Sorry, gotta go. I'll see you again in the winter, I hope!