Wedged In - podcast episode cover

Wedged In

Jan 15, 201911 minEp. 59
--:--
--:--
Listen in podcast apps:
Metacast
Spotify
Youtube
RSS

Episode description

On today's tour of the Cabinet, we are given a chance to examine a object that exists without explanation, and then learn about something else that changed history without ever being seen. 

Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Transcript

Speaker 1

Our world is full of the unexplainable, and if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the cabinet of Curiosities. For many of us, our idea of archaeology comes from a certain set of movies starring a fedora clad professor. He follows the clues, assembles the puzzle, and at the end he's found whatever mystical mcguffin had propelled him into action in the first place,

and stop the Nazis. Of course, in reality, though, it's not as exciting. Sure, an archaeologist might follow a clue to the location of a lost city or a set of dinosaur bones. But sometimes all it takes is some heavy machinery and a bit of dumb luck. It came from outer space, at least that's what people thought at first when they pulled it out of the ground. In It's known as the wedge of aud and upon first glance you might not see what all the fuss is about.

It was found roughly ten meters below the sand in aud Romania. Besides two enormous mastodon bones, the fossils and the wedge were set for testing in Transylvania, where it was determined that the bones were over ten thousand years old. The wedge, however, proved a much greater mystery. Its existence dumbfounded the scientists. The object was light lighter than any metal from that era should have been. Metal objects found that deep underground tend to be made of iron or

some other heavy ore. This was nothing like that. In fact, it shouldn't have existed at all. Tests revealed that the wedge was composed of copper, silicon, zinc, bismuth, silver, and most importantly, aluminum illuminate them to be exact. There was just one problem. Metallic aluminum, the kind used in soda cans and cell phones, wouldn't be discovered until eighteen twenty five, thousands of years after the wedges supposed creation. No one outside of Romania knew about it, mainly because of the

restrictions on sharing information outside of communist Romania at the time. Additionally, it had been given to a historical museum in Transylvania, where it resided in storage for over twenty years, and then in a Romanian UFO magazine. Yes, a Romanian UFO magazine discovered it again and That's when the biggest theory about the object came to light. The wedge had not been man made at all, but by something out of

this world. Watch any documentary show about ancient civilizations, and you're bound to hear one word over and over again aliens. After all, how else could humans have mapped thet ours or developed irrigation without help from visitors from another planet? At least that's the idea. I'm being facetious, of course, But Romanian, you aphoologist, Flooring gay or Geta was not.

She believed the wedge had been part of the landing gear on an alien spacecraft that had visited Earth during the Ice Age, hence its presence so far deep underground and its proximity to those masted on fossils. Skeptics, however, have an alternate theory. See Aluminum does not spark the way steel does, so it's often used to make tools for dangerous jobs, for example, digging foundations for buildings near possible gas lines, and when the aluminum is coated in

a substance called dura linum, it becomes incredibly strong. Unfortunately, dura lynum has one negative side effect. It oxidizes very quickly. In the eyes of the skeptics, the wedge was never part of an alien spaceship. Rather, it was a tooth that had fallen off an excavator shovel during a construction job. This would explain the wedges place of discovery and its ancient appearance, But even the skeptics have skeptics that oxidized exterior it might not be as new as they thought.

It has been determined to be around four hundred years old, at least two hundred years older than aluminum. Itself hard to explain without further testing, but none of it has been done. As of yet, we still lack sufficient data on the Wedge's origins. For every conspiracy theory that pops up, someone is ready with the rational explanation as to why the whole thing is just a hoax. We may never know where it came from or why it was discovered beside a pair of mastodon bonds, but maybe that's okay.

It was a fun story to entertain, after all, and every now and then we all need to find a way to wedge a little wonder into our lives, don't we. Her name was Locusta and she was born in gaul An area known today as present day France during the Roman Empire in the first century. Her origins are a mystery. It was suspected she was a peasant, but one who had developed a green thumb of sorts, not for crops, though she didn't care much for growing roses either. She

went for something with a little more kick. Locusta discovered that if she mixed fun guy, deadly nightshade, and other types of plants, and even blood, she could create something toxic, something poisonous. She started out by testing her various potions on animals she found, then adjusted the ratios for maximum potency.

Her only problem was her location. There just wasn't a call for a professional poisoner out in the countryside, where people were more concerned with getting by than casting vengeance upon her enemies, So she took her services where she knew they'd be in demand, the city, namely Rome Jock. Full of intrigue and political backstabbing, Locusta fancied herself an entrepreneur and saw an opportunity to help the wealthiest Roman

influencers take each other out without anyone knowing. Oftentimes, her assassinations looked like run of the mill heart attacks, enemies of Emperor Claudius fell to the ground, clutching their chests or their throats as they foamed at the mouth, the muscles and their bodies tensing up to the point of snapping until all went black. Her talents went viral in a way, with her name being passed along through the

underground networks of ill repute. If you needed someone killed without it looking like a murder, you called Locusta the poisoner. Of course, once the bad guys knew about her, so did the authorities, and Locusta found herself arrested on murder charges more than once. It didn't matter, though, because the throne saw her as an asset, one royal free from Claudius, and moments later she was back to toiling and troubling. Claudius's fourth wife, Julia Agrippina, took a liking to Locusta

and employed her as her own personal poison consultant. Agrippina had a history of poisoning her husband's and inheriting their wealth, all with an eye on the throne. Not for herself, however, but for her son Lucius. She couldn't rule, but she could control a ruler from behind the scenes. Lucia's father had already died, but Agrippina's third husband, the Emperor Claudius, needed an air after his son from a previous wife

had been deemed unfit to lead. What better way to secure a new heir than adopting the one living under his own roof, and he did, having the boy changed his name to Nero, But it didn't take long for Agrippina to grow restless. She didn't want to wait for her husband to die and her son to take over as emperor, so she paid a little visit to an

old friend. Locusta, mixed a poise and to get rid of the emperor's bodyguard, then paid the royal food taster to take the day off so she could enact her plan. A few deafcap mushrooms in his stew were all it took for Claudius to go down. The emperor's doctor was summoned immediately. He performed the standard procedure to help a choking victim by sticking a feather down Claudius's throat to

trigger vomiting. Locusta had seen to that as well, though, moments before, she had doused the feather in strychnine Claudius died and Nero took his place, with his mother in his ear all the time. Agrippina had finally made it to the top, well as close as she was going to get her personal poisoner. However, did it fare so well. There was still one loose end to tie up, so Agrippina accused Lacusta of poisoning her husband and had her

sentence to death. It's okay, though, because Nero knew a good thing when he saw it and had a young woman released. You see, he had fallen out with his mother, who had become a bit too much of a burden on him, and the two had parted ways. Locusta didn't do too badly after that. She moved into a palace and started a school to teach other women the art of poisoning. She also developed new formulas and tested them out on thieves and slaves and other people she thought

were deserving of death. But as we've learned, political turmoil exacts a heavy toll on everyone involved, and nobody gets out unscathed. Locusta has passed eventually caught up with her. After Nero's tragic suicide, his successor, Galba had grown sick of all the poisoning and the woman behind it. He sentenced Locusta to death and had her dragged through the streets and chains before being publicly executed. A gruesome end for a gruesome person. Experts have called Locusta Histories for

serial killer, but that title isn't quite right. She didn't kill out of compulsion or passion or some sociopathic tendency. No, Acusta, the poisoner was something more. She was histories first hit woman. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Manky in partnership

with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.

Transcript source: Provided by creator in RSS feed: download file
For the best experience, listen in Metacast app for iOS or Android
Open in Metacast