Mr. Perrot handed his whistle to Madu and walked over to Logan. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some of the oxidation off the rod, scratching it with his fingernail. “It looks like copper.”
“Did this pyramid ever have a capstone?” Logan asked.
“I suspect it did,” Madu replied. “But as with the other pyramids around the world, the capstone was probably stolen by raiders long ago. Egyptologists speculate that the capstone of the Great Pyramid in Giza was wrapped in metal—some say gold, others say copper.”
“Wouldn’t one of Tesla’s theories come into play, then?” Logan asked Madu, who nodded. “You said earlier that an electrical charge naturally exists between two metallic points positioned at different heights.”
“And we know that this room is in perfect alignment with the apex,” Mr. Perrot added.
“May I see the end of that rod?” Logan requested. Mr. Perrot handed it to him. He ran his finger over it from top to bottom. “Look at how the last quarter of the rod is thinner than the rest of it. You can feel the change in diameter at this point here.” He put his index finger on the point in question. Madu came over to inspect it.
Mr. Perrot went over to the mica platform where Logan had been kneeling. He squatted and examined the image of the coiled serpent carved there. “In certain metaphysical teachings, coiled serpents represent energy,” he said.
“Isn’t there something in the Chronicles about that?” Logan asked.
“A coiled river of energy waits eagerly to be released in the tiniest of cells to the stoutest of men. With simple decree, the power of a thousand suns can be rallied forth into the reality of life. It is the spiral serpent known as Zakti,” Madu recited.
Mr. Perrot rose and stepped off the platform. As he did so, he accidentally kicked the red stone that formed the eye of the serpent, dislodging it. Water could be heard running under the floor. “I hear the trickle of water.”
“Yes,” Madu said. “We suspect that a strong river used to flow under the pyramid, not just the trickle you hear now.”
Logan watched Mr. Perrot bend back down and put his right index finger into the hole. As a thought occurred to him, he carried the rod over to the platform. Mr. Perrot stepped back. “You said the eye was in perfect alignment with the apex. Assuming that this copper rod represented the point of conductivity beneath the capstone”—Logan positioned the thinner end of the rod above the hole—“this would be a perfect place for it to go.” He inserted the thinner end of the rod into the hole. When he removed his grip, the rod stood vertically on its own.
“So in theory,” Mr. Perrot said, “if there were a capstone at the apex, a small yet measurable amount of electricity would be detectable, correct?”
“That is what Tesla proved,” Madu acknowledged.
“So now the only thing we need is a way to amplify the current,” Logan said, picking up the whistling vessel from the platform and blowing into it as he had done before. The harmonic echoed through the chamber, and the copper rod began to vibrate, making a twanging sound. Logan blew into the whistle again, with more force. The rod vibrated more vigorously. Taking Logan’s cue, Madu handed Mr. Perrot a whistling vessel and picked up another one. They blew into them simultaneously, and an intense harmonic was created. The copper rod oscillated back and forth. Logan stepped off the platform, not wanting to get hit by the now rapidly swaying rod. Suddenly, the rod sprang out of the hole and flew across the chamber, crashing into the sealed opening near the two skeletons.
“Well.” Logan watched in amazement. “I think we are definitely onto something.”
“Not only do these whistles cause a harmonic that is enhanced by the acoustics of this chamber,” Mr. Perrot said, “but the harmonic affects the copper rod in a very profound way.”
“I doubt if an out-of-control copper rod is what the people who built this chamber intended, though,” Logan said.
“No, this must be one of the side effects that Tesla warned about,” Mr. Perrot said. “Without the proper harmonic, who knows what can happen?”
“The lack of a proper capstone in place could also account for unpredictable results,” Madu added.
Mr. Perrot walked over to the sealed doorway. A piece of its thin plaster façade had broken off where the rod had struck it, revealing the head of a painted horse. “There is something beneath this plaster.”
Madu turned toward Mr. Perrot and the sealed doorway. His eyes widened. He went over to a table and picked up a few scraping tools. In five minutes, he and Mr. Perrot were able to remove the plaster.
“It’s a mural,” Logan observed from behind them. They stepped back and saw that it was a painting of a battle. Below it, another scene was depicted: two men in robes constructing a wall. “What does it mean?”
Madu pointed to the top of the mural. “Teotihuacán was attacked. This shows a king leading his marauding army down the Avenue of the Dead toward the Moon Pyramid. They are killing everything in sight. Look at the burning fields and the slaughtered cattle.”
“This supports your theory that Teotihuacán was sacked,” Logan said.
“And it was surrounded by lush farmland.” Mr. Perrot gestured to the scenery in the background.
Madu pointed to the middle of the mural. “Here are two people running into the Moon Pyramid.” He moved his finger farther to the right. “Here they are pulling a cart and running through a tunnel toward a room.”
Logan looked away from the mural to the small wooden cart in the corner near the two skeletons. “Looks like we know what room these two were fleeing to,” he said.
After a solemn pause, Madu continued with his interpretation of the mural. “The last scene shows them constructing this wall.”
“They buried themselves in here.” Logan looked at the two skeletons.
“They didn’t want the invaders to find this room.” Mr. Perrot agreed, squatting down next to one of the skeletons. “They’re dressed similarly to the two people running in the mural. Look at this.” Both Logan and Madu squatted down next to Mr. Perrot. “Look at the copper headband this man is wearing.”
“The Satraya symbols along with the snowflake. Just like the statue and the wall paintings,” Logan said. “I think there’s more to this snowflake than we are giving credit to.”
Mr. Perrot attempted to lift the headband up over the skull. As he did so, the skull fell off the corpse and rolled to the ground. The men jumped back, startled. “I apologize,” Mr. Perrot said, “but I believe we are about to learn something significant.”
“This one also has a headband,” Madu said of the other skeleton. He carefully removed it, leaving the bones intact. Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The three men stood still, looking at one another for several seconds, but the shaking didn’t stop.
“Another earthquake,” Logan said. “We have to get out of here!”
The shaking intensified. Chunks of stone fell from the ceiling. Logan ran to the table for his backpack and the silver case containing the reconstructed stone whistle.
“Take as much as you can!” Madu shouted. He grabbed the copper rod and the three whistles. But before he could get to the other four, a large rock fell and crashed down on them.
Logan grabbed some of the broken pottery off the table and stuffed it into his backpack. He used the worn string to better secure his overflowing pack. A monstrous rumbling filled the chamber as the ground shifted beneath their feet. More stones dropped from the ceiling, one landing on the mica platform. Logan handed the silver case to Mr. Perrot. One by one, they stepped into the small metal cage elevator, hoping it would rise as the Moon Pyramid broke apart around them.
32
How do you expect to find what you’re looking for if you never start looking for it?
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
NOVACON ISLAND, 4:05 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 23, 2070
“This is too dangerous, Doctors,” the technician warned. “We have already seen what introducing more radio
active isotopes has done. I’m shutting down the core.” The technician frantically maneuvered a set of controls in front of him.
“There is . . .” said the male doctor, dressed all in black.
“No proof of that,” continued the female doctor, who was dressed all in white.
“The earthquakes . . .” said the male doctor.
“Are simply coincidental,” said the female doctor.
“Coincidental?” The technician raised his voice. “Are you kidding me? Each time we do this, the seismic activity on the island spikes, and within moments, we hear reports of earthquakes from all over the globe. Just look at what is happening out there. We’re killing people. We have to stop this now!”
The doctors exchanged glances before turning back to the rebellious technician. “People die . . .” said the male doctor.
“Every day,” finished the female doctor, and she motioned to two armed security guards standing nearby. “Discharge this man. Martin does not serve us any longer.”
The two guards quickly walked over to the technician. One grabbed him by the arm. The other grabbed his briefcase. Martin was forcibly escorted to a set of doors that automatically opened as they approached. The three men stepped into the elevator car, and the doors closed behind them.
Just then, another set of doors to the control center opened. Dario entered, a humming emanating from his black business suit as he walked in. Catherine and Yinsir accompanied him. Rashidi followed them.
“Hello, Doctors,” Catherine said. “How goes the testing?”
The two doctors turned simultaneously and walked over to her in unison. Yinsir gazed in amazement at the odd pair.
Catherine smiled. “Yinsir, I would like to introduce you to Dr. Rosa and Dr. Josef. The world’s first set of neurologically conjoined twins.”
The doctors bowed. Yinsir responded in kind. The twins were exactly the same height, standing a meter and a half tall. They had flawless pale skin and matching green eyes. Their short brown hair, which barely covered their ears, did nothing to soften their identical cold, expressionless faces.
“Do not let their size or appearances fool you,” Dario said in his raspy voice. “While the twins may have been born with some physical deficits, their neuro interface allows their brains to act as one.”
“From an intellectual point of view,” Catherine added, “these two might be the smartest single person on the planet.”
“An interesting way to put it,” Yinsir said.
“Please, turn around, Doctors. Show our friend here what we are talking about.”
The doctors turned in unison. At the base of each of their skulls was a small disk-like device flashing a series of green, blue, and red lights.
“They act as one,” Dario said. “Their brains are fused together to the point where they complete each other’s thoughts.”
“However, when they analyze a problem,” Catherine said, “each can process a different part of the problem at the same time. Their thoughts are transmitted back and forth to each other almost instantaneously. Their combined brain power is exponentially greater than that of any single person with the IQ of a genius.”
“It must get pretty loud in their heads,” Yinsir said with a laugh.
The doctors turned back around. “Thoughts are . . .” said Dr. Josef.
“Not loud,” Dr. Rosa stated.
“Feeble minds . . .” continued Dr. Josef.
“Are loud.”
“Yes, Doctors, you are right, as always,” Catherine said. “Please continue with your work. We don’t want to hinder your progress.”
The doctors walked to a group of technicians who were seated at numerically identified work stations on a circular platform fifteen meters in diameter. Each technician sat in an ergonomically designed chair in front of a computer whose thin glass display showed a variety of readings. The technicians wore contact lenses optically connected to the displays in front of them, which made their eyes glow neon green.
Catherine, Dario, and Yinsir went to the side of the room and observed.
“Let us . . .” said Dr. Rosa.
“Try again,” added Dr. Josef.
The technicians began to perform their tasks. “What is the status of . . .” said Dr. Rosa.
“The radical EM wave?” asked Dr. Josef.
“Zero hertz. No wave is present, Doctors,” answered the female technician seated at console fourteen.
“Binary fission rate is normal,” a male technician answered from console number three.
The technician at console one looked at a few readings on the display in front of him. “Should we open the core?” he asked.
The doctors walked over to him. Dr. Rosa stood to his left, Dr. Josef to his right. They looked at the display, analyzing it for several seconds.
“Yes,” said Dr. Rosa.
“Proceed,” added Dr. Josef.
“Moving to low output,” said the technician at console one. As they began to manipulate their controls, the image of a slowly rotating white pyramid was projected over the platform where the technicians were seated.
“EM wave normal,” a technician said.
“Fission rate normal,” another added.
“Opening the core,” announced the technician at console one. As he worked the controls, a gentle rumbling sounded for several seconds. “Core exposure at ten percent.”
“Ten is not enough,” said Dr. Rosa.
“Open to twenty,” said Dr. Josef.
The technician gave the doctors a questioning look.
“Do . . .”
“It.”
The technician did as the doctors requested. The white pyramid turned yellow. “Electrical induction has commenced,” the technician said. “Output is at low yield, one megahertz.”
“Open the core . . .” said Dr. Rosa.
“To thirty,” said Dr. Josef.
Another momentary rumbling occurred as the core was opened further. The technicians worked feverishly, calling out their readings to one another. “Power collectors at seven thousand megawatts,” one announced.
The doctors looked at the projection of the pyramid as the color of the capstone changed from yellow to golden brown.
“When you asked me to join you on the island, I did not know what to expect,” Yinsir said. “And though I still can’t say that I understand a word of what these people are saying, I’m impressed.”
Dario laughed. “This, my friend, is the latest in energy supply.”
“This structure that we are standing in is called a zero-point fracturing node,” Catherine said. “It has the ability to extract electricity directly from the atmosphere. Once this device is operational, we will be deploying identical devices at strategic locations all over the world.”
“And fret not, my friend. Neither Catherine nor I make any attempt to understand what is being said by these people.” Dario motioned around the room. “All I know is that we are standing at the center of the world’s newest pyramid.”
“There is a large copper capstone fifty meters above us and a nuclear core fifty meters below,” Catherine explained. “And somehow, through the miracle of science, electricity is produced.”
Yinsir chuckled. “Did Simon know about this?”
“Heavens, no,” Catherine replied. “This is my and Dario’s baby.”
“Simon thought he had all the answers,” Dario said. “We gave him some rope to see what he would do with it.”
“Turns out all he could do with it was hang himself,” Catherine said.
A loud crack of thunder startled everyone in the control center. The technicians glanced at one another. A man seated at console nine pressed a button, and the shutters over the windows along the periphery of the control center opened, providing a panoramic view of the island. A heavy rain pelted the windows as a storm raged outside. The technicians rotated in their chairs to gaze out. Just to the north was Ponta do Pico, a large stratavolcano that rose more than two thousand meters in
the air. The crashing waves of the ocean could be seen to the south. Another thunderclap boomed and then another.
Yinsir noticed the twin doctors standing by the large windows, looking out at the storm. “And where did you find them?”
“That is a rather long story,” Catherine answered. “Let’s just say that we liberated them from their last employer, who was not using them to their full capacity.”
“If this device works as you say,” Yinsir said, “then those two might have come up with the most radically innovative power-generating technology the world has ever seen.”
A bolt of electricity was discharged from high above, appearing to come from the capstone. A moment later, another. “Fission rate is decreasing,” a technician said.
The two doctors turned to each other and then to the projection of the pyramid rotating above the platform. The capstone was rapidly alternating color from deep gold to pale yellow.
“Radical EM level at fifty hertz,” the technician at console fourteen announced, disappointed.
“Fission rate is dropping further.”
“Power collectors holding at seven thousand megawatts,” said the technician at console one. “Dropping back to low yield.”
Catherine left Dario and Yinsir, quickly walking over to the doctors, who had moved back over to the technicians. “No, we must push forward,” she insisted. “Doctors, we must be able to harvest more energy. Seven thousand megawatts isn’t even enough to power a small city!”
“If we push any further, we have no idea what will happen,” said the technician at console fourteen. “We’re going into uncharted territory here. Martin wasn’t joking around.”
“There are workers outside,” said the technician at console one. “An increase in output could cause more electrical discharges.”
“Would the two of you like to join Martin outside?” Catherine asked, giving them a glare that made them cower in their chairs. “I don’t care about side effects or discharges. We need results. Move the output to high. I want to see what my money has bought me after six years.”
“We agree,” said Dr. Rosa.
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