"Meaning?" Clio coyly queried.

"Meaning, I’m not researching or writing about Atlantis. So you can give it up. Everyone from Plato to Disney has done Atlantis. I can’t compete with that."

"It would be lovely as a romance," she said in her tempting muse voice.

"No," I said in the same curt tone that the weakest-leak lady says good-bye in.

"All you have to do is go to that computer and type in Atlantis. The internet will do the rest. It’s that easy."

"I grinned sheepishly. I had her now. "You do it then."

With a hunt and peck method, as if she was afraid the computer would bite her, she entered in some letters then froze. Where is the rest of the alphabet?"

"Are you using Greek again?" I asked.

"Of course. Oh, never mind, I see, this keyboard as you call it, is in the Latin alphabet."

"The alphabet is the same as the Latin one, but if I were you I would spell it in English."

She made an tsk, tsk sound then said, "Don’t be silly, why would anything of literate value be in English."

"Clio, just forget it. You’re not talking me into the Atlantis idea."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. 

Then out of the blue a thought came to me. Clio had inspired Plato. She had been around since ancient Greece. Maybe she was good for something. "Clio can you translate ancient Greek and ancient Latin into English for me."

"No," she said in the same curt tone I had used earlier. Clio watches the weakest link re-runs also.

"Why not?" I folded my arms across my chest and stared at her.

"That would be cheating. I can inspire you to learn ancient Greek and Latin so that you can translate manuscripts, but I can’t do it for you."

"Well, it was just an idea, I’m not really interested in that anyway."

"No, but it did bring a thought to your mind." Clio's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Didn’t it?"

"Humph?" I smiled back. "The Rosetta stone."

"Interesting." Clio's smiled wryly.

"I was thinking of the linguist that decoded the hieroglyphics. He saved the history of one of the greatest cultures ever known to man."

"Now, that was a hero," Clio tapped her finger against her cheek.

"I know the man who translated it was French but I don’t recall his name."

"That would be easy enough to find out," Clio said.

"That’s true." I paused and pondered. Before I knew it I had walked to the computer. "Excuse me," I said as I gestured Clio to move over. I sat down and placed my hands upon the keyboard. I typed "The Rosetta stone" in the search field and pushed enter.

I could hear Clio laughing in the background. But I didn’t grimace at her mocking laughter. I didn’t’ even glance up at her. I was so relieved that I hadn’t typed in Atlantis.