Gene of Isis

‘I told you on the phone.’ Andre was emphatic. ‘We can’t even scratch off a particle to have it analysed, let alone drill it! It may only look like polished metal but it’s harder than iron ferrite.’

‘What about this black-band seal?’ I queried, hating the thought of having to harm the exquisite find, but it was sure to be nothing compared to what lay beyond.

‘Same story,’ Andre advised, frustrated. ‘So what does the inscription read, in your opinion?’

I translated the signs saying there would be a curse on the man who would try to open the door and enter. Then: ‘A woman of Isis will come bearing bread in offering. Only to her will heaven’s door open.’

Andre was reading his notes and his eyes boggled a moment. ‘Go back to…a woman will come bearing. What did you say after that?’

‘Bread,’ I repeated. ‘Why?’

‘The local translators said it read food…are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure. I can’t believe an Egyptian could make a mistake like that, unless—’

‘They were purposefully trying to mislead us.’ Andre smiled grimly, as this is what he’d suspected all along.

‘Bread.’ I pondered the word’s significance. The Bread of Life and Light? I posed silently, having read about that just recently. ‘What happened to the white powder that they found here in the alchemist’s chamber early last century?’

Andre baulked at the question. ‘If you think it’s important, JC might know.’

‘Pardon?’

‘James Conally, archaeologist, the man in charge.’ Andre pointed down the road toward the campsite. ‘We can go see him now if you wish. He’ll be wanting to meet you anyway.’ When I nodded, Andre led off. ‘So why do you ask about the powder?’

‘Well, it is said to be one of the ingredients of the Bread of Life…’ The information startled Andre. ‘Or perhaps the bread itself?’

‘Of course!’ He hit himself on the head, obviously feeling he should have made the connection.

‘I’ve been reading something which suggests that this substance not only defies gravity, but when heated to extreme temperatures,’ I pointed to the blazing sun on the horizon, ‘it can send atoms into such a highward spin state that they vanish from this plane of existence altogether.’

Andre was smiling broadly now. ‘So what are you suggesting? That we coat the disc in this ancient mystical brew and hope that it disappears!’

I shrugged. ‘If a culture could produce a substance that defies gravity, I’m sure they would have no problem whatsoever in reversing the process to produce your mysterious supermetal and rock.’

Andre nodded, smiling as if this was exactly what he’d expected of me. ‘I’m willing to run with that theory, as it’s better than any of the others we’ve had.’

‘Why? What other theories have been put forward?’ I was interested to know, in case I could see merit in them.

‘Well, besides “blast it to hell”, which didn’t work,’ Andre confessed, ‘your theory is an island oasis in a rippleless sea of possibility. I knew you’d be an asset.’

In the many times I’d worked with Andre, this was the first time he’d actually appreciated my knowledge more than my physical presence. Admittedly, my outfit did little for my figure. ‘One does one’s best.’

James Conally was a pleasant bloke. He seemed well organised, courteous, knowledgeable and enthusiastic about anything that moved his project forward.

Needless to say, he greeted my theory with open arms, and praised Andre for bringing me to the project for I had already earned my week’s pay.

‘I wouldn’t get that excited. I could be way off the mark.’ I needed to speak to Albray, but from what he’d told Ashlee about the construction of the pyramids, I had a sneaking suspicion I’d be proven right. ‘Our big problem is getting hold of this shem, manna, ORME!’ Indeed, the substance had many names.

‘Star-Fire.’ Andre used a term that Albray had also used. ‘The maker of kings and gods!’

‘I have no idea what happened to the powder,’ Conally advised me. ‘My partner, Christian Molier, is the expert on the site. If anybody knows, he will. I’ll contact him immediately.’

‘Molier is not here?’ I wondered why someone should be so interested as to fund the excavation and then settle for applying his expertise from afar.

Conally shook his head. ‘My partner has a condition that does not allow him to be in sunlight, let alone desert heat.’

‘Oh, I see.’ I nodded in understanding.

‘But not to worry, we have the best in communications gear,’ Conally said cheerily. ‘I’ll have answers in no time. Meanwhile, I’m sure you could use some food and rest.’

The notion brought a large smile to my face.

‘They’re predicting sandstorms anyway, so best to stock up and batten down the hatches for as long as it lasts,’ he continued. ‘If the winds have passed by morning, then feel free to explore the Hathor complex.’

‘I will, don’t worry.’ He didn’t need to ask me twice if I wanted to be shown to my tent. I was weary from being on the move for over a day.

I was impressed by the campsite. We may have been in tents, but they were large and sturdy in order to survive a battering from the desert elements. As I was the only woman on the site, I got my own tent, which had a portaloo and also a self-contained shower recess—the base of the shower had sides high enough to be used for washing clothes, dishes, etc. I was also hooked up to the site’s power supply: I could run my computer, lights and