Belief in What We Don't See
by Sheryl Rieling
When is a pyramid not a pyramid?
Dr. Daniel Jackson stared intently at the photographs in front of him, trying desperately to see beyond the flat, two-dimensional surface of the eight-by-ten-glossies. The inconsistent light from the kerosene lantern provided little in the way of illumination and helped even less with his headache. He longed to lie down and let the matter rest for the night but there was something that wouldn't allow him to sleep. Something he was missing. Daniel brushed his hands across the images. There was so much a picture couldn't show. It couldn't capture the feel of a tomb. That indefinable quality that made him itch to see what lay beyond the first chamber. The smells and textures of the massive structures were something a person had to experience before they could truly appreciate the wisdom of the ages concealed behind layers of dirt and sandstone. It had to absorbed
through the senses like a connoisseur of fine wine.
When is a pyramid not a pyramid?
There it was again. The Bazooka Joe comic strip had posed the question. The printed answer was the usual lack-luster inanity.
When it's a square.
Yeah, cute. Daniel shook his head. What was wrong with him? Why was he driving himself crazy with this? What wasn't he seeing?
Frustrated, he threw his glasses onto the folding card table that served as his desk and rubbed his eyes. He should go to bed because the answers didn't seem to be coming tonight. Daniel glanced over at the uncomfortable cot gracing a corner of the dirty canvas tent. Uninviting was too weak a word for the hard mattress awaiting him. He stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to work the kinks out. Wandering over to the tent flap, Daniel stared out at the inky darkness, knowing the entrance was one hundred short feet from the tent. The answer was there.
The light from his tent fell on the ground before him and he debated the wisdom of leaving the safety of the shelter. It took three steps to stop casting a shadow. Five more and ambient light made no impression. Ten more steps and Daniel was shrouded in the overwhelming nothingness that was an Egyptian night. Almost immediately, his hearing began to supplement his eyes. He heard the loose stones crunch under his soles and bounce off the wood that marked the sides of the dig. At least he knew he was still on the path. The wisdom of wandering out without a flashlight crossed his mind for all of ten seconds before he dismissed it. Daniel couldn't turn back. He was being compelled by something beyond his control. His feet moved automatically as his mind filled in the trail for his useless eyes.
Within minutes he stood in front of the slabs that encircled the entrance to the tomb. The symbols in the stone were a warning to would-be grave robbers. Go no further for here lies a King. The usual curses on posterity followed.
I'm not a trespasser, he thought. I'll treat anything you care to show me with respect. Please show me so I can rest. Please.
His hands found the inside wall and he kept constant contact with it, knowing that a torch and matches would be waiting in the ante-chamber if he was patient. When his hand brushed against the holder, Daniel grabbed for it and heard the unmistakable clatter of the torch hitting the ground. He dropped to his knees and felt around, his hands moving frantically through the stone and dirt as he moved away from the wall. His eyes stung and frustrated, he pushed his long hair out of his eyes, swearing to get it cut the very next time someone offered.
Daniel didn't know the exact moment that he panicked, he only knew that somewhere in his search for the torch he had lost the wall with its strike-anywhere matches and was now in the giant burial chamber. His frantic breathing echoed in the vast room, only succeeding in reinforcing his seclusion. He supposed he could find a wall and follow it but the odds were he would end up deeper in the maze.
"Damn!" His voice echoed and faded, leaving his labored breathing and the darkness.
Willing his heartbeat to slow down, he assessed his situation. What was the worst thing that could happen? The other archeologists would find him here in the morning. They would laugh and tease him unmercifully. Nothing new there. They had been making fun of him since he had arrived, not believing that such a young doctor could contribute anything to their research. His long hair and baggy clothing had confirmed their theory that he was just a college kid with no experience and they had shunned him despite his best efforts at trying to fit in. Finally, Daniel had given up and embraced his isolation, not bothering to dispel the misconceptions, preferring his own company to the pseudo-intellectualism of the other scientists. Besides, he thought, they all thought Budge was above question while Daniel had found his books arrogant and assuming. "Budge is an idiot!" he announced to the chamber. His echo agreed.
Stretching out on his side, Daniel rested his head on his outstretched arm. If he was going to be spending the night, he might as well make himself as comfortable as possible. He wondered whether he was the first person to ever spend a night in this room. Okay, so he was the second, but the first one alive? "I guess I win." He chuckled at his own sarcasm and was rewarded with his own mocking laugh coming back at him from the unseen corners. A chill slid down his spine and he vowed to say nothing aloud until the morning workers came through the doorway and liberated him from the suffocating blackness.
Firmly resolved, Daniel slept.
"Doctor Jackson?"
Daniel opened his eyes and sat up. Why was Ibrahim waking him so early? It was still dark and he must have let the wick burn down because he couldn't see a thing. And where was his coffee? The native guide knew better than to expect coherence before the second cup.
A flashlight beam invaded the chamber at the same time the realization dawned. He was in the tomb. He had lost the torch and had decided to spend the night here. The footsteps that were approaching were amplified in the room making it sound like ten men instead of the one he knew was there.
"Doctor Jackson? Are you there?"
The light once again flickered across the chamber and Daniel had the absurd desire to hide from his rescuer.
"Yes. I'm here." He called, wincing at the hoarse sound of his own voice.
"Ah, Doctor Jackson. I was very worried when you weren't in your tent." Ibahim Mahmood appeared at his side, his face ghoulishly cast by the flashlight beam. "My wife saw the light in your tent and sent me to check on you. You know how Zephra worries about you."
Daniel blinked, momentarily blinded by the flashlight shining directly in his eyes. Finally, out of desperation, he held his hand up to block the glare. "How did you know I was here?"
The direct beam disappeared as Ibrahim illuminated the pedestal in the center of the room.
"By your pictures. They were scattered all over your desk. I assumed you wanted to have another look. After the last time you wandered off, I take special care with you, Daniel," he said with a distinct father-like tone to his voice. "When you are working, you neglect yourself and while I find myself filled with admiration, I must ask you to take more care."
Daniel stopped listening as the light played over the various parts of the room. Ornate stone work decorated the ceiling and platforms. Some were overlaid with gold, still glittering after centuries of being sealed underground. Daniel could sense the missing information dancing just out of his grasp, teasing him. Scrambling to his feet, Daniel grabbed the flashlight out of the guides hands and shone it on the far wall, ignoring Ibrahim's shocked sputtering.
He couldn't understand it, they were walls. Plain ordinary walls. No drawings, no hieroglyphics, nothing. Not even symbols. Spinning around, he caught Ibrahim in the flashlights beam.
"Please, Daniel, come back to camp." He said imploringly, "Let Zephra make you something to eat and you can rest in my tent with my family tonight."
Daniel knew Ibrahim was speaking but his attention was riveted on the wall beyond the guide. It was flat, brown and unadorned. Why wasn't there any kind of writing inside the grand pyramids? There was all kinds of curses and stories on the walls of the lesser ones. Why were the Grand Pyramids different?
"WHY?" he shouted, running to the wall and slapping it with the flat of his hand. The answer came in a mental flash of light, so bright that his mind barely grasped it. The Grand Pyramids had to be older than the Egyptian civilization. And if they were older, they had to be built by a race more advanced than man.
"Why what?"
Irahim's soft question jolted him out of his thoughts, bringing his present predicament crashing back to the forefront. He turned to his guide. "What?"
"You asked, why. Why what?"
Daniel smiled, suddenly giddy. "Just, why. Why am I so dense? Why can't I see what isn't there?" If it were possible, Ibrahim looked even more confused and Daniel couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, Ibra, *I* know what I'm talking about. Now how about taking me back to my tent? I want to get this down on paper before I lose it."
"I do not understand you, Daniel. Come," he gestured to the exit, "I will take you to Zephra and have her fix you a meal. You will feel much better in the morning."
"But I feel fine."
"Of course you do, my friend." The Egyptian placed an arm around the scientist's shoulders. "Of course you do."
The two men walked through the ante-chamber, stopping to pick up and reset the torch Daniel had dropped earlier. As they exited the tomb, Daniel turned and looked back into the maw, feeling the seductive pull of the knowledge he knew awaited him in the light of morning.
"What is it?" Ibrahim asked. "Have you forgotten something."
Daniel grinned and slapped his friend on the back in a rare gesture of physical affection. "No, Ibra, I'm just imprinting this moment in my mind. After all, it's not everyday that I make a discovery of this magnitude."
"What discovery? You found something in there in the dark?"
"Yes. I found a ..." Daniel's voice trailed off as another thought occurred to him. Oh crap, they're never going to believe me. How am I going to justify my grant? I'll never get paid!
***
Two Days Later ...
The marketplace was disserted as the young woman walked to the phone on the far side of the square. The vendors had returned to their homes for the evening meal and prayers would keep them busy for at least twenty minutes after that. She had deliberately chosen this time of day so she could walk unimpeded without having to go to the trouble of a disguise. Muslims were all well and good but she was tired of hiding her legs, arms and hair.
Once she was in the phone booth, she quickly dialed a long distance number, pausing twice to enter clearance codes and an untraceable credit card number.
After what seemed to be forever, a woman's voice, heavily accented, came on the line.
"Katherine Langford."
"Your boy found something."
"Thank you."
The young woman replaced the phone on the switch-hook. There was no reply necessary and she had her orders. Taking care to wipe the handset, she made her way across the square and back to the rest of her group which had already started boarding the bus back to the dig. She pasted a smile on her face and clambered up the steps, all signs of stealth gone as she blended in with the rest of the college class.
~The End~