by JC Ryan
"Well if anyone can help you find evidence of that, these two guys are your best bet. Sinclair, do you and Raj have time to assist Charles?"
"Absolutely. We are always happy to assist one of our most loyal supporters," said Sinclair.
"Charles, here is an ID pass that will get you in the front door twenty-four/seven and a key to a guest office. Make yourself at home, and let me know if there's anything else you need."
"You mentioned giving your younger brother an assignment to assist me," Summers said. "Is that offer still open?"
"Stick around for a minute, and let's discuss it."
Just as he had avoided giving his research assistant the whole story, Summers had deliberately left out the information that most intrigued him about the Piri Reis map. Not only did a good part of it look very much like the coast of Queen Maud land, which was a section of Antarctica, but when compared with the most recent maps of the same region, it matched nearly exactly the shape that had been discerned only through the use of modern seismic equipment and satellite imagery. In fact, it depicted only the land mass of Queen Maud land, which had been covered with a thick sheet of ice extending out into the ocean for what scientists insisted was tens of thousands of years. The shape lacked the overlying ice.
The question was not, as he had described it to the others, how the mapmaker had known of the continent at all. The question was how did he know of the shape of the land mass when it hadn't been seen within our current cycle, and perhaps since before even the height of the 10th Cycle, perhaps 35,000 or more years ago? Was it possible that the admiral had discovered or been in possession of maps predating the 10th Cycle calamity? What he hoped to find in the records of the library were clues if not answers to these questions.
Summers debated revealing the rest of it to Daniel, and decided that there was no need. When he had found what he was looking for, there would be plenty of time to discuss his next project. That is, if he found what he was looking for.
Taking his leave of Daniel, Summers located his guest office, and noted with approval that it was equipped with a state-of-the-art workstation from which he would be able to retrieve any translated records by keyword.
Raj, with whom he was the less familiar of the two men he'd be working with, must be a real genius with the organization of data. After only a few minutes' perusal of the introductory files, he was ready to begin his search. Sinclair's help would come in if he found records mentioned in the index that had not yet been translated.
Summers was not yet sure what use he would be able to make of Joshua Rossler, known as JR according to his brother Daniel. Apparently, the young man had an undergraduate degree in archaeology, but could be erratic. That was what Daniel had asked him to take into consideration after Sinclair and Raj had left them earlier. He would meet JR on Monday. Between now and then, he would try to think of something useful that the boy could do for him. It was the least he could do to thank Daniel for the courtesy the Foundation was extending to him.
Summers was eager to get to work, but before he had even had a chance to take a look at the index, Sarah Rossler knocked at his door.
"Charles, I just wanted to say how happy we are to have you here again," she said. "And to invite you to join us for lunch."
Even though Charles wanted nothing more than to begin his search, it would have been ungracious to refuse Sarah's invitation. Charles shut down his workstation and stood, saying, "Lunch sounds great." He stepped to the doorway and kissed Sarah on the cheek, stepping back just in time to hear Daniel’s objection.
"What's this? Are you making a pass at my girl?" Sarah laughed, as Charles winked.
"I told you you'd better treat her right or I'd move in," he retorted.
After lunch, Summers returned to his guest office and was at last able to take a look at the index. He wasn't certain where to look, whether in the sections marked geography, history or archaeology. Rather than disturb Sinclair or Raj for such a basic question, he started at the top of the geography index and read through it. As always, it took a while before he got over the disorientation occasioned by the 10th Cyclers' use of different names for the landmasses in their world, not to mention that different areas of the globe had been home to populations in a different distribution than that of the 11th cycle, our own.
Even now, after several years of advances made possible by the 10th Cycle material, it was hard for some people to believe that before our history began, a more advanced civilization than ours had begun, flourished and died in a cataclysm that geologists and others still hadn’t identified. Or that before that, nine others had done the same thing, if the 10th Cycle record was to be believed. The same people, or their children, who’d once insisted that the manned landing on the moon was a hoax, now believed that the Pyramid code and everything learned from it was an elaborate hoax, perpetrated by unknown villains on an unwary populace.
That the cataclysms that ended each cycle had rearranged the land masses of the earth was mind-boggling. Perhaps less so was that the 10th Cyclers would have had their own names for them, rather than calling them what we, the presumed 11th Cycle now named them. Of course the different shapes of the land masses meant different weather patterns, and a different path of development and migration for the earliest humans to emerge from the catastrophe to repopulate the earth after being literally thrown back into a Stone Age existence.
Sinclair's translation team had done a great job of providing the current name for anywhere that was recognizable with respect to an 11th Cycle perspective, but Summers realized immediately that he would need a Mercator-type projection map of the 10th Cycle globe to refer to as he researched. He made a note of the request so that on Monday he could ask JR to acquire one, assuming such a thing existed.
Stymied for the moment by his inability to visualize the world of the 10th Cycle as it existed physically, Summers turned to the history section. Once again, the fuzzy nature of his search left him unable to formulate a sensible query of the index. He could do nothing but examine it line by line for a clue. Several hours passed before he realized that the hum of activity that had accompanied his studies was no longer loud enough to hear. He glanced at his watch, to see that he had worked long past his usual dinnertime, and that it was now nearly eight p.m. It was time to go home and try to forget his work over the weekend, a constant battle against overwork that he fought valiantly. In fact, one of the reasons he'd been so drawn to the Rosslers was their mutual enjoyment of the nearby mountain recreational options.
Summers briefly considered calling Daniel to see if they would like a hike the next day, but thought better of it when he realized the trails would be quite muddy, and vulnerable to erosion until the early spring thaw had finished and the brilliant sun and dry air had dried them. Too late for skiing, too early for hiking, he would have to find something else to keep his mind off his research.
Chapter 3 – The Orion Society
In an ancient ruined castle in the even more ancient city of Würzburg Germany, four masked and robed figures sat around an ancient table as their predecessors had done for centuries. Each of them went by a codename that represented the quarter of the earth over which their families claimed dominion. At the head of the table, Septentrio, representing the North and the acknowledged leader, and then clockwise with Oriens to his left, Auster opposite, and Occidens to his right. This was the quarterly meeting of the Orion Society.
The powerful and secretive society dated from before the birth of Christ, and, despite the fact that relatively few had heard of it and lived, they controlled much of the wealth and resources of the earth. Their unsuccessful attempts to kidnap Daniel and Sarah Rossler before the Pyramid Code was translated and disseminated had come near to exposing them, necessitating the honorable retirement of Septentrio's father, which he accomplished by throwing himself from a turret of this very ruin.
Now, the current Septentrio presided over the quarterly meeting to hear reports of ongoing projects, and to report
concerning his own project.
"As you are aware, my father failed in his mission to secure the contents of the Pyramid Code for our use only," he said. "I am happy to report that we have been able to plant operatives within the staff of the Rossler Foundation. Their brief is to report back to me any discoveries of note, particularly any hint of a formula for ultra-longevity, as we have been searching for that since the beginning of time."
"And what have they reported so far," Auster sneered. Her personal mission was to discredit and depose the leading family, Septentrio's, and take the lead herself. She never failed to look for an opportunity to point out any of Septentrio’s shortcomings. Unfortunately, he was performing quite well in his capacity as a Society leader. It was in his personal life that he fell short of their collective standards.
Auster's spies had reported that Septentrio's private entertainment included several male prostitutes at a time, several times a week. His ruthlessness in questioning traitors in their own organization and informants from rival organizations was without question. Septentrio the elder, himself a ruthless despot, had laid out the approved method for questioning with prejudice, even with extreme prejudice. However, the son had been twisted by years of physical and mental abuse at the hands of his father because of his sexual orientation. Once he attained the power that his deceased father had wielded, he spared no compunction in avenging himself on the enemies of the society. Auster anticipated a time when Septentrio would go too far and leave himself vulnerable to her coup.
"What is the status of our assets in America?" she asked.
"We continue to maintain watchers who are aware of our interests, but not of our identity, within all major institutions of higher learning, major governmental and unofficial intelligence gathering organizations, as well as within research laboratories and large corporations throughout the country. I've just told you of those we have finally been able to plant in the Rossler Foundation itself."
"And how are you processing the information stream from all these assets?" Auster pressed.
"Information from the first line assets is funneled to several regional coordinators, who all report to our CIA operative, Latet. Only he knows how to reach me directly, and he analyzes and verifies all information before passing it to me."
Auster had to hand it to Septentrio, who she still thought of as a boy in spite of the fact that he was beginning his sixth decade. If nothing else, he was efficient. No wonder he had time for his disgusting recreational activities. She made a note to forward her spies' reports to her counterparts from the East and the West. They were even older and more conservative than she; when the time came, she would be able to count on them for support, and of course Latet would keep her apprised of important developments even before reporting to Septentrio. The latter’s organization, in fact, played into her hands perfectly.
When the meeting had ended, each of the members of the Orion society returned to their homelands, except for Septentrio, who lived in Würzburg as his family had for over 2000 years.
Septentrio divested himself of the heavy rope and stifling mask that were the trappings of his office. His pale, pudgy body sank into the steaming waters of the spa he had had installed in his quarters, and he rang for his manservant.
"Send me some playmates," he demanded.
"Yes sir. Right away," his manservant agreed. As he dialed the number of the brothel where Septentrio's favorites were employed, he also coded a note for delivery to Auster, as she had required of him. He wondered what would happen if Septentrio ever discovered his perfidy, and dismissed it as too trifling to worry about. His master was a weakling, not to be feared. Had the manservant known of the fate of his own predecessor, he might have had a better idea of how to protect himself.
Chapter 4 – JR Is A Problem
On Monday morning, Charles found the Rossler Foundation humming with activity again. Before going to his office, he knocked on Daniel's door, and stepped in at Daniel's invitation.
"How was your weekend?" he asked.
"We worked," Daniel said. "It's becoming a bad habit."
"I thought about inviting you guys out for a hike, but then I realized the trails would be too muddy."
"You're right, but that would've been fun. However, we had a ton of applications to process."
"How's it all going?" Summers inquired. "I should have asked last week. I was so intent on my own research that I didn't think to check up on how it's going overall."
"It's going. Sinclair has a full complement of translators working two shifts, and the more we find, the more there is to find. I still can't get over how cleverly these 10th Cyclers were able to arrange the blocks so that hundreds of thousands of facts were nested in such a small number of symbols."
"I've never quite understood how that worked," said Charles. "Can you run it by me again, slowly?" He grinned. "Pretend I'm an idiot. I know that won't be a huge stretch."
"Don't sell yourself short buddy, if I can understand it anyone can understand it. But, we don’t really get too specific about it. If we did, anyone could do it, and then the idea that we can keep harmful information out of the hands of criminals and terrorists would go by the wayside. But, in general, it involves a technique I read about in a book that made me think about taking every few symbols and making words that way."
"How'd you ever come up with that?"
"It was almost an accident," Daniel said. "It's hard to remember now why I was doing it, but about the time we hit on the idea of the individual stones representing symbols, I learned about a school of thought that used this method on the Torah to reveal prophecies. When we applied it to the pyramid, though, what we discovered was the greeting and the index. Then we knew that there had to be an entire encyclopedia, if you will, hidden in the stones."
"That story never fails to boggle my mind," said Charles. "And then to think that you outwitted international criminal organizations to save it for the world."
"Well, that was the Mossad that did the outwitting. We were lucky to have their help."
"Luck. Yeah, right. I’m a big believer in making your own luck, and I’ll bet that’s what you guys did. Well, I'd better get to work. Thanks for the rundown."
Charles had heard the story before, but never from the horse's mouth. Somehow Daniel’s understatement of both the effort it required to figure out how to break the code and of the danger he, Sarah and the other researchers had faced made it all the more dramatic.
Dr. Summers' day was barely begun when Joshua Rossler, the younger of Daniel's two brothers, known to most as JR and sometimes to his family as Josh, presented himself for Charles's assignments. The latter was startled when the young man loomed in his doorway, freakishly tall and built like an athlete. Charles didn't think Daniel was anywhere near this tall, but that was a curiosity that could wait for exploration.
"Come in, JR. It's nice to meet you. I'm Charles Summers, but please call me Charles."
JR sauntered into the room and dropped his lanky, athletic frame into a chair situated at the front of Charles’s desk. Summers noted the resemblance to Daniel, but in the super-sized version. The kid had to have been nearly seven feet tall, with the same unruly brown hair as Daniel’s and the same blue eyes. But there the resemblance ended. Something was bothering him, and it showed in his alternately sullen and cocky expressions. Summers shook off his natural tendency to be intimidated by much taller men and wondered why it seemed JR wasn’t comfortable either. With that physique, he could have dominated anyone, but instead, his shoulders were hunched, he didn’t offer to shake hands and his eyes were downcast.
"Daniel says I have to help you with whatever you need," said JR. Charles thought it was an inelegant way of putting things, but accurate nonetheless.
"I understand you have a degree in archaeology," he said.
"Yeah." This conversation was going nowhere fast. Charles tried once more to get a responsive answer.
"Do you know anything about cartography?" He asked.
"Mapmaking? A little, I guess. I learned to map archaeological sites in school." Encouraged, Charles smiled.
"Do you happen to know if anyone has made a map of the 10th Cycle world with something like a Mercator projection?" JR's blank expression dashed Charles hopes again. Then he asked a question.
"Is that, like, where they make a round thing, I mean, the globe, look flat?" It was perhaps not a scholarly explanation, but it would do.
"Yes, exactly. To understand what I'm reading in the pyramid record, I need to have a picture to look at that's accurate for the 10th Cycle, but a familiar concept to my 11th Cycle mind," he smiled.
To Charles’s surprise, given the young man’s almost sullen demeanor, JR smiled in return.
"Okay, I get that. I don't know if anyone's done that, but I can ask around. Anything else?"
"Not at the moment. It would be brilliant if you could find one, but is there any chance of getting one made if no one's done it yet?"
"Let me see if I can find one, and if not I'll talk to Daniel."
"Great!" Charles said, turning to his computer without dismissing JR. JR stood for a moment watching Charles as he worked the keyboard, and then left the room.
JR took a detour before continuing on his errand for Dr. Summers. Despite the chilly March wind, he stood on the outdoor patio smoking his second cigarette since arriving an hour before. JR knew that Daniel was aware he smoked out here, and Daniel hadn’t said anything about it, so JR figured it was okay. His ten-minute break stretched to fifteen and then twenty before he went back inside.
“Hey, Sinclair!” JR shouted as he entered the translation department bullpen. Twenty translators raised their heads to see who was creating the disturbance. Seeing JR, most went back to work, though a couple of the girls grinned at him. He waved at them, and grinning in return, wandered down the aisles toward Sinclair’s office.
“Is he in?” he asked the person nearest him on the last row of cubicles.