Read Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu Online
Authors: Alexander Marmer
Ostbahnhof Railway Station, Berlin, Germany
Friday, September 22
4:30 a.m.
N
o other train station in Berlin has changed its name as often as Berlin’s
Ostbahnhof
. A plaque on one of the platforms catalogued the station’s names throughout its history. Originally opened in 1842, the Ostbahnhof Railway Station was located in a pretty grim section of the former East Berlin, named Friedrichshain. It was one of the city’s two main railway stations, the other being the
Zoologischer Ga
rten
.
Michael and Anna’s cab pulled up to the station in the chilly, predawn hour. Retrieving their bags, they walked inside the terminal. Despite the relatively early hour, the station was crowded and noisy. The line at the cashier’s window stretched and wiggled across the enormous hall. Some passengers were loaded down with huge bags and bales, while others simply had small backpacks. As passengers navigated past clumps of baggage with their own enormous loads, a few arguments ignited. While waiting in the long line, a few cantankerous passengers started fighting. The station’s security officers hustled over to the raging passengers, resolving the conflict before it spiraled out of control.
As they got closer to the cashier’s windows, the main line divided into two independent, smaller lines. The timetable reshuffled every few minutes. When Anna approached the window, she purchased two one-way tickets to Moscow, paying in cash. After yesterday’s incident, they did not want to leave any trace and risk being found. Thankful the wait was over, Michael grabbed his duffle bag and followed Anna to the waiting room, where he was happy to collapse onto a comfortable chair and rest.
Several minutes later, a bell rang and a pleasant female voice on the PA system announced in both German and English the arrival of the next train. A few minutes later, he could hear the gnashing wheels and a loud whistle. Michael watched with bleary eyes as the timetable reshuffled itself again.
The bell rang again and the now familiar voice announced that passengers traveling in the North and Northeasterly directions should report to their platforms.
“Come on,” Anna announced happily. She stood up and gathered her belongings. Michael hoisted up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. They moved slowly but steadily with the other passengers down a corridor. Soon they found themselves on platform number three. Boys ran back and forth along the platform selling morning newspapers. Street vendors strolled past the train cars with small carts. Passengers scurried along the platform looking for the right car, some stopping by the little carts.
Anna found their train car quickly. They still had some time before the train’s departure, so Anna bought a morning newspaper from one of the boys running along the platform.
The uniformed conductor checked Michael and Anna’s ticket, wished them a pleasant journey and let them inside the car. Anna led the way and found the right compartment. Opening the door, they were surprised to find it empty. They each chose lower bunks and stowed their luggage. Finally, Anna and Michael could relax in the relative discreetness of the compartment and wait for the train’s departure. Anna opened her newspaper and read quietly for a few minutes. Suddenly, she gasped and pointed excitedly to one of the articles.
“Look! Michael! Here’s an article about the incident with the Medjay.” She looked at him sternly, “You know, the Medjay you helped to escape.”
“Huh. What does it say?”
“Well, apparently, the Medjay robbed a store.”
“Wow, robbed?” Michael whistled.
“Yeah,” she continued, putting the paper aside.
“Did anyone die?” he asked.
Anna looked annoyed, but shook her head.
“So, for stealing somebody’s stuff the Medjay would have been lynched or beaten to death,” he said quietly, maintaining his firm eye contact with her.
Anna stared back at him just as firmly.
“Either way,” Michael continued, “the punishment would not have fit the crime.”
The door slid open. An older man in an expensive suit stood glancing around the compartment. He stepped inside, rolling his elegant suitcase behind him. Shaking their hands, he introduced himself as Rolf. He lifted his suitcase onto the top shelf and sat down at the table across from Michael. His entire demeanor confirmed to them that their new companion was a wealthy man.
“So, are you going to Poland or all the way to Moscow?” he asked in English, a contagious smile on his face. As it turned out later, Rolf spoke five languages fluently, was originally from Germany and owned several hotel chains in Europe. He traveled extensively all over Europe and the Americas on business trips in his profession as a hotel entrepreneur.
Anna picked up on his German accent right away and began conversing with Rolf in German. As they chatted happily, it occurred to Michael that Anna must have been starving to speak German. For the past several days she had no choice but to speak in English with him. Michael did not mind a bit and turned his attention to look out the window at the people on the platform.
A bell rang loudly and overhead a pleasant female voice announced first in German and then in English that the train was leaving the station in five minutes. Michael watched as the people on the platform hastily bid farewell to their departing family and friends. Soon a loud whistle was heard and the train slowly started moving. The tedious sound of the train wheels and the monotonous landscape outside the window soon brought on fatigue. In no time Michael was dozing with his head pressed up against the window. He woke up at one point and despite his body wanting to stay in its position, forced himself to move to his bed. Once there he blissfully went to sleep.
The train shook Michael awake. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to realize it was half past one o’clock in the afternoon. He glanced around and realized Anna was asleep on her bed. Rolf sat quietly at the table working on a pile of some important looking documents. Michael’s stomach was aching, and as he slowly became more and more awake, he also became aware that not only had they skipped breakfast that morning, but also he had been asleep for more than seven hours.
“Excuse me, Rolf,” Michael said, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Anna’s sleep. “Do you know where the dining car is?”
The man looked up and wearily rubbed his eyes. He checked his wristwatch. “I didn’t realize it was lunchtime,” he said, looking at Michael kindly. As he carefully stacked his paperwork he offered, “Let’s go find it.” They quietly exited the compartment and started walking.
After passing through a few cars, they arrived at the dining car. The interior was spacious and pleasant music played softly. There were few customers, so they quickly found an empty table. After ordering his meal, Rolf removed a book from his jacket’s inner pocket. He excused himself and began reading. Michael was watching the scenery passing by when he looked at Rolf’s book. He could not believe his eyes. Rolf’s book had Egypt’s Great Pyramid on the front. Surprised, Michael turned his head a little and noticed that Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie was the book’s author. Michael stared at Rolf in disbelief: his compartment mate was interested in Egyptology. He knew the author’s name from the countless lectures on the Egyptian pyramids that he had attended. After all, Sir Flinders Petrie's 1880’s survey of the Giza Plateau, which included the Great Pyramid of Khufu, was the most detailed Egyptian study ever undertaken by a surveyor.
“I didn’t know that you were interested in ancient Egyptian history,” Michael remarked.
“Not exactly all of Egyptian history,” said Rolf, pulling the book away from his face. “Just the Great Pyramid.”
“Me too.”
Really?” Rolf put his book down as Michael nodded. “That’s interesting. Since when?”
“I’ve been fascinated with the Egyptian pyramids since I was a teenager,” said Michael.
“So it’s been a while for you then,” said Rolf, chuckling “I got interested in the Great Pyramid about five years ago after one peculiar encounter. In fact, it happened here, on this same train.”
“Wow, no kidding.”
“Trust me,” Rolf said, rolling his eyes. “A first I thought the man was a crazed lunatic after he told me a synopsis of the concept of his theory.” He chuckled, “But then I got intrigued and started doing my own research. Surprisingly, I am starting to lean toward that man’s explanations.”
“You have intrigued me,” said Michael, with growing enthusiasm.
“That man intrigued me as well,” said Rolf, leaning forward, his eyes shining.
“What was his name?”
“He was Russian … had one of those typical Russian names. Koralev or something.”
“Was it Kirilov by any chance?”
His eyes widened with shock, Rolf replied, “Yes! Kirilov. That’s right. But how do you know?”
“You are not gonna believe this,” replied Michael, hardly able to believe it himself.
Berlin-Moscow Express train
Friday, September 22
2:05 p.m.
“T
hroughout history there have been countless theories about how the Great Pyramid was built and with what purpose,” Michael said as he sat across from Rolf at their dining car table.
“Oh, yes, I know.”
“So what is so special about Kirilov’s theory?”
“This is what I have been examining. To start, the Great Pyramid is shrouded in many veils of the great mysteries. Many desire to loosen at least some of them. To simplify the task, let’s first consider the existing, fairly modern statements regarding the purpose of the Great Pyramid.”
Michael nodded, listening intently.
“John Taylor, in his book
The Great Pyramid,
argued that the mathematical number
π
(pi), which is the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter and is approximately equal to 3.14159 and
φ
(phi), which is the golden ratio, have been deliberately incorporated into the design of the Great Pyramid. The perimeter of the Great Pyramid is close to 2
π
times its height. Charles Piazzi Smyth then expanded Taylor’s theories in pyramidology. And in the 1880’s they were studied by the famous Egyptologist …
“Sir William Flinders Petrie,” Michael interjected, smiling widely.
“Right, Professor Sir William Flinders Petrie,” Rolf chuckled, pointing to his book. “And finally, David Davidson, the British structural engineer. Despite being a skeptic, he proved Smyth and Petrie’s original calculations.”
Michael and Rolf barely noticed when their food was brought to their table. “While not questioning and not considering the detailed statements of all of these researchers, whose ideas can be considered common knowledge for all those interested in the pyramids, it would be desirable in the course of these arguments to ask only two questions,” said Rolf, carefully cutting his beefsteak into pieces.
“Ok, what are these two questions?” asked Michael as he sorted through his
bratkartoffeln
, a traditional German dish of fried potatoes with diced bacon and onions.
“Firstly, what prevailed in creating the Great Pyramid: a desire to ensure its reliability and stability or the desire to embody mathematical knowledge within its structure?”
Michael paused his eating to think. “Well,” he was uncertain, “I would guess both …”
“Actually the first part dominated. You see, otherwise, the Great Pyramid would have collapsed and all of its inherently intelligent hidden messages in the form of mathematical calculations would have been lost in the ruins.”
Michael agreed by nodding.
“And the second question,” continued Rolf. “If the Great Pyramid is such an intelligent pyramid, figuratively speaking, then what about the intelligence of the smaller pyramids built right next to it on the same Giza Plateau? Have they also embodied the great knowledge within or were they built based on a tradition?”
Michael shrugged his shoulders.
“Both of these questions are really farfetched,” Rolf continued, pushing aside his empty plate. “If the pyramids, which were built by different pharaohs, are connected by one main purpose, then it will be easier to unravel the whole mystery surrounding them. The fact of the matter is that the main purpose of the pyramids was the same: to serve as the burial places of pharaohs. They only differed from each other in proportion and size.”
“OK,” said Michael pushing aside his empty plate, “what’s unclear to me is how did ancient Egyptians transport and stack limestone blocks weighing no less than several tons each?”
“It’s true,” said Rolf, chuckling, clearly enjoying their conversation, “packed inside the Great Pyramid are blocks that for the most part weigh five tons and up. Certainly such blocks could not be moved or dragged across the sand by a small group of people, as popular modern sketches sometimes depict the Great Pyramid’s construction. And don’t forget that it was done in a difficult climate under the scorching sun.”
“It looks like only Superman could do this kind of job,” grinned Michael.
“No Superman existed during ancient times,” chuckled Rolf.
“OK then, what about another popular theory that large limestone blocks were dragged over an artificial, man-made sand mound that was built up around the whole pyramid as it was built? At the end of the construction, the pyramid was dug out and the sand removed.”
“This theory makes absolutely no sense,” objected Rolf, shaking his head, “this is equivalent to saying that the main amount of work had to have another, at nearly the same amount, for its excavation.”
“What about the theory mentioned by Herodotus?”
“You mean after the stones were laid out for the base, they raised the remaining stones with a machine made of short wooden planks? That theory is that the first machine raised them from the ground to the top of the first step where was placed another machine, which received the stone upon its arrival and conveyed it to the second step, and so on.”
“Yes, precisely,” nodded Michael. “So, which construction method does the stranger you met on this train agree with?”
“Neither.”
“Really? Neither?”
“You will have to ask him yourself,” said Rolf, grinning as he got up from his chair. “All I can tell you is that his theory does not require any assumptions about the Egyptian lifting machines mentioned by Herodotus, from which no trace remained whatsoever, and which would not have been possible to exist under the then-level of productive forces.”
Michael got up from the table as well and followed Rolf back to the compartment. Entering, Michael saw Anna was still asleep. Rolf held out his book to Michael, “Why don’t you read it for yourself?”
“Thank you.” Michael lay on his bunk and started reading. In the meantime, Rolf went back to his paperwork.
Michael did not realize exactly when he fell asleep again, but was awakened by a strange sound, like a clap. For the first few moments, he wondered whether the sound was from a dream or reality. He looked around the dimly lit compartment. Looking up he saw Rolf asleep in the bed above him. Anna was still deeply asleep. Besides Rolf’s barely audible snoring and the melodic sound of the train wheels, everything seemed incredibly quiet.
Clap!
Michael quietly and carefully opened the compartment door, stepping out of the tiny room into the aisle. All was dark and quiet. He started walking down the aisle. Most of the windows were curtained except for the last window at the far end. No one was around. All of the compartment doors were closed.
A door slammed loudly at the other end. Michael turned and walked quickly but silently in that direction, stopping short by the vestibule double doors. He attempted to peer through the darkened windows to the door. Just as he was deciding whether or not to open the doors, he observed a tiny spark that blinked for a split-second and then disappeared in the same instant.
Maybe someone is having a s
moke.
Curious, he pushed open the double doors. It was dark and quiet. For a moment Michael wished he had on night vision goggles, the same ones he had used in night raids in Iraq. Walking inside he tripped on something attached to the floor, literally crashing inside the vestibule. To his surprise, nobody was there. Feeling like an idiot, he squatted all the way down to the floor and felt around. He blindly searched for a cigarette butt, yet found nothing in the darkness. Finding this very strange to say the least, Michael returned to his compartment.
During his absence, nothing had changed. Both Rolf and Anna were still asleep. All was dark and quiet. Michael lay down on his bunk and soon was asleep, lulled by the droning sound of the train wheels.
There was a small knock at the compartment door. Michael awoke.
Who would knock so early in the morning?
Someone knocked again, a little bit louder.
Why isn’t anyone opening the door?
He wondered
. Am I alone in here?
It turned out that he was, indeed, alone. Neither Anna nor Rolf was in the compartment. Rolf’s bed was neatly made and the table was covered with a paper napkin with a plate and cup on top.
Of course, he got off in Poland
. Michael glanced at the napkin and saw something scribbled there in a hurry, ‘If you are still intrigued−’
Intrigued
, Michael reminisced, smiling. He realized the note was from Rolf. He continued reading, ‘Mr. Kirilov’s address in Moscow: Voronezhskaya Street, building 4, apartment 10.’
Michael was stunned. Here was what he and Anna were looking for: Mr. Kirilov’s address! It seemed almost impossible that the very Mr. Kirilov that Anna’s father had written about in his notebook was also the ‘lunatic’ Rolf had met five years ago on the same train.
I’ve gotta tell Anna, but where the heck is
she?
Abruptly, Michael recalled the knock at the door. He opened the door, but there was nobody there. Whoever was knocking had walked away, apparently tired of waiting.
Soon, Anna walked in. Michael briefly filled her in about his conversation with Rolf. As soon as she saw the message on the napkin, Anna jumped in excitement.
“You may think of me as superstitious, but this is more than just a coincidence.” Anna’s eyes were huge with exhilaration. “After all, come on, what are the chances of us getting on this train and meeting Rolf? He knew the very person we were looking for—and his address?”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “the probability of that happening is … well, in order for that to happen…” He rolled his eyes upwards, “It looks like somebody is helping us.”
“Michael, I would like to think that this is my father sending us messages from the grave and trying to give us a hand,” Anna said quietly, a few tears starting to form in her eyes as she thought of her dear departed father.
Michael smiled kindly and put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, “I believe you are right. That is a very nice way of putting it.”
A bell rang loudly and overhead a pleasant female voice announced first in German and then in English that the train would be reaching their destination in ten minutes. As they packed their bags, Michael decided he should use the bathroom. He walked down the aisle toward the end of the train car, passing a couple of families who were noisily chatting. The window curtains were now open and sunlight was bouncing around the train’s interior. So different from the last time he was in the aisle. As soon as he opened the bathroom door, he was facing a mirror attached to the back wall. Suddenly, for just a moment, the dark silhouette of a man painfully familiar to him flashed in the glass.
The Medjay is here on this train?
The thought paralyzed his whole body momentarily. He turned his head in the direction of the mirror’s reflection. The Medjay was not there. He let out his breath. He stared into the mirror, but only the familiar aisle and a few passengers were there. The Medjay had disappeared the same way he had appeared. Not knowing whether to believe the reflection in the mirror or his sick imagination, Michael walked all the way down the aisle to the other side of the train car searching, just to be sure.
Meanwhile, the train was already in the city limits of Moscow.