Pyramids

The tour bus clanked slowly to a stop, squeezing in between two massive American-owned monstrosities, and disgorged us unceremoniously into the stinking Cairo heat. And by ‘stinking Cairo heat’, I mean both stinking and Cairo literally. The pyramids aren’t nearly as far away as you think they are. There’s practically a KFC right next door.

As we trek up towards the vague triangular outlines in the smog, our cut-rate tour guide launches unenthusiastically into his spiel.

“Everyone has a different theory about who built the pyramids-”

Oh god, here we go.

“-and why. Many people feel that the pyramids have some kind of spiritual connection. Indeed, this is exactly what the ancient Egyptians felt. To them, the pyramid was like a beacon, pointing the way to the heavens...”

You know, I’m pretty sure most of the supposed “science” of Egyptology is made up. Most likely, on the spot. Anything to keep the paying tourists happy. And it’s not like we’ve got any way of fact-checking them-

I’m jolted out of my internal monologue by my sister’s elbow.

“Ow.”

“Pay attention, Louie, we’ve paid for this.”

“It’s all a load of crap”, I hissed back.

My sister’s a total sucker for all that mystical crap. That’s the reason I’m here against my will. I’m a marine biologist. I’m into science and rationality and so on and so forth, but more importantly, I’d rather be scuba diving on the Red sea right now. But no.

“...and maybe even extraterrestrial involvement.”

An appropriately impressed ‘ooh’, came up from the crowd, as if they hadn’t heard the ‘aliens built it’ trotted out a hundred times before.

We pushed our way past the hordes of locals trying to flog miniature plastic pyramids and prints of dubious-looking animal-headed gods. I tightened the straps on my backpack a little. It’s got a few hundred bucks worth of sensing equipment in it. Geiger counters, electric field detectors. A stethoscope. I borrowed most of it from mates. The plan is that when my sister inevitably ‘feels a presence’, I switch on all the sensing equipment, and make her prove it.

What? She has her fun, I have mine.

We finally got past the scalpers and hit the queue for the pyramids proper. The guide starts on some trivia dump about how they’re being ‘conserved’ (also known as ‘rebuilt using concrete blocks’). I’d long since stopped paying attention. As much as I hated the mystic bullshit, The question was a sticky one. Why would you build a massive geometrical stone structure for one dead guy? The nihilist in me put it down to trying to keep the masses employed and the economy moving. Like economic stimulus, but in a desert, miles from anywhere.


We hit the front of the queue surprisingly quickly. If there’s one thing the locals really were efficient about, it was pumping people through their ancient ruins as quickly as they possibly could. My sister giggled excitedly as we made our way, stooped all the way over.

“Ooh, Louis. Can’t you feel it?”

“Nope. Not a thing,” I said, squeezing against a wall to let a German couple past on their way back up.

“Well, you should try being more open minded.”

“You should try just occasionally looking at the abundance of evidence in front of you.”

“I’ve got evidence! I can feel... something.” she finished lamely.

“Right. And Newton went on ‘feelings’, did he?”

We bickered like this the rest of the way down into the chamber. Here’s something they don’t tell you about the Pyramids: there’s absolutely squat down there. No writing on the wall, no carvings, no nothing. Just an empty room and a big-ass coffin. A coffin my sister was now lying in. This was my chance.

“I can feel the energy,” her voice echoed from across the room.

“Oh yeah? What kind of energy? Kinetic or potential?”

“Shut up.”

And then, at the back of my head, something clicked. Stupid brain, thinking in metaphors-

Then something clicked again.

Hold on a sec. That was an actual physical click. I unslung my bag from my shoulder and scuffled around, coming up with my borrowed antique of a geiger counter.

Click.

Huh.

I started waving it around the room. The closer I got to the giant sarcophagus, the stronger and more frequent the clicks. I did a quick survey of the room. The coffin was the only thing in here. On a hunch, I threw the counter into the coffin.

“Ouch! What the hell is this?” My sister stood up, holding the counter, which was now emitting a dull roar.

“You need to get out of there. Now.”

“What?”

“I mean. Um. I’m claustrophobic. Can we go?”

She sighed, and swung her leg over the side of the coffin. I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had been kept in that coffin was spitting out vast quantities of ionising radiation. I wanted out.

I headed back up the shaft as quickly as I damn well could, ignoring the sighs and eye rolls from behind me. My mind was fizzing as much as my geiger counter had a few minutes ago. What on earth could cause that sort of a reaction in an ancient monument? I was baffled, and more than a bit scared. I spent the rest of the site tour in a bit of a stupor, flicking back through the readings, over and over, wondering if they had been real, and if they were... why?

It wasn’t until we were back on the bus that it clicked. A metaphorical click this time. And the worst part was how much sense it made. A giant imposing structure. Hidden entrance. Thousands of tonnes of stone. In the middle of the desert.

Imposing. Secure. Shielded. Remote.

Which left me with an impossible question in response to my impossible conclusion:

Why the hell would the Ancient Egyptians have needed to store nuclear waste?

---

This idea has been bumping around in my head since I read this article last year sometime. Go read it. Actually, go read that entire site. It's pretty damn interesting.

All the stuff about what the Pyramids are like is true IRL, by the way. Except the bit about the radiation. That bit not so much.