People argue about them endlessly — scientists, pseudo-historians, conspiracy nuts, my imaginary pelican. Everyone wants to know: do they really depict things that ancient Egypt couldn't have possibly built, or are they just a palimpsest — one carving layered over another?
Credit to Ada for that bit of lore.
So, we decided — well, I decided (let's not steal my damn glory here) — to give human imagination a little push and make the inscription glow. A Conveniently Inappropriate Artifact + a touch of unexplained luminescence = the exact kind of profit we were after.
Reaching up to the beam, I started generously brushing the luminous powder over the carvings — the ones that looked suspiciously like a submarine, a helicopter, and all that good ancient-tech stuff.
— Look, subscribers! You're witnessing another rupture in reality. What say you, my co-host? — I turned to Ada.
— I won't make any hasty claims, but this is definitely an interesting experiment, — she said, slipping into her "responsible host" voice. — And you might like it, so please leave your reactions under our video.
— Or go screw yourselves, 'cause even without 'em — we're still making legendary content! — I shouted, then turned to the guide. — Ada briefed you on what you're supposed to do with this lamp?
He took it from my hands and nodded solemnly:
— Of course. When night falls, I'll sneak back here quietly, without alerting the guards. I'll wait for them to approach the spot… then switch it on and direct the light—
— And that's when the hieroglyphs are gonna blaze up, motherfucker! — I laughed. Odile, ever the poet, added from behind the camera:
— And for a fleeting moment, the soulless will awaken in the hearts of the awed and the frightened.
— 'Cause that's what viewers love! Right, you sick little goblins?! — I yelled for the outro, and we wrapped the segment.
Ada immediately turned to our new accomplice:
— Please don't let us down. You'll get the rest of your payment after tonight's operation.
— Oh, never! — he said, eyes wide and pure as a newborn saint. Which of course meant I instantly decided we'd need to keep an eye on this slimy bastard.
Or… screw it. Odile wasn't some errand boy — he was my bro, my creative equal. I'd go with him myself. When you're dealing with the criminal element of humanity, it's better to supervise the beast personally.
We left the now thoroughly tiresome temple without issue, and the first thing I suggested — a proper celebration of Phase One. Nothing crazy — half a job's done, not the whole. Just a little fun. The day was still young.
Ada perked up:
— If I'm not mistaken, when I bought the powder earlier, I saw a traveling circus set up near the city limits. As people who deal directly with performance, we could learn from professionals.
— Waaah waaah waaah, — I mimed a sad trombone and gave a fake yawn.
— I support Adelgunda's idea, — Odile said suddenly. — I can even shoot a bit of behind-the-scenes footage there. On my phone, of course — recording's probably not allowed.
— You're learning fast, my friend! — I clapped him on the shoulder approvingly. — Little crimes here, minor ones there… Fine. Two votes against one. Damn democracy!
How we got back to the city is a whole separate story, full of unexpected twists and turns.
We basically… got there. Not like this is a fantasy world, right? Exactly.
I kept my phone rolling the whole time, filming a bit of our own backstage for once. Odile's right — sometimes the brain works in the right direction. I'd gotten too focused on the "operations," forgetting that people wanna see us alive, talking, moving, messing around.
As they say: "Viewers love that stuff."
Thankfully, Ada's insane memory got us straight to the right district. Not quite a slum, not downtown either.
There it was — the thing itself. A pavilion, or rather, a tent — pretty massive, woven from lilac-colored fabric. Looked exactly how I imagined a circus tent should look (never been to one before, by the way). And damn, it pulled you in.
The show was set to start in fifteen minutes. Not many people around the entrance, just a few obvious street kids making the fancier crowd nervous. Entry was free, so the kids decided to check it out.
Personally, I treated them like any other audience — consumers of content, no different from their richer counterparts. Both came to gawk in hopes of seeing the pros do their thing.
As for the smell… eh, I hadn't showered since the desert, so honestly, I was the biohazard. Ada kept a handkerchief pressed to her nose, pretending she'd caught a cold. Yeah right. You can't fool me, sly girl.
Then the barker made his appearance — or rather, part of him did.
The curtain parted, and a hand poked out, waving insistently for us to enter. Everyone shuffled in, calm and orderly, since the crowd was small and there was no need to push.
I have to admit, that method of luring people in intrigued me. Though I kept up the act, grimacing and pretending I'd rather be in a bar.
What I liked even more was that the place was filled with absolute darkness — that exact eye-gouging kind celebrated in every trashy song or dime-store book. The only thing missing was a cloakroom attendant (invisible to everyone) who'd take our eyes and neatly stack them away until at least some half-decent lighting showed up.
Some guy stumbled into me, yelped, cursed, apologized — and then went through the whole cycle again. I tried to kick back, but judging by the fact that I hit something like an iron fence and it didn't make a sound, I missed and kicked Odile instead. He patted me on the head (and how the hell did he see it in the dark?) and whispered:
— Your bursts of negativity are charming, but next time, please try to implement them into your creative work.
What a man. Always knows exactly what to say. Even when it's completely out of place.
I decided not to disrupt what was obviously already a performance in progress, while others blindly rummaged through their pockets, looking for phones to turn on flashlights. But they weren't needed?
Why?
Because there it was — the long-awaited lighting… A glow spilled across the felt or fabric (or God knows what) walls, as if they'd been fitted with ultraviolet too. Wait, didn't they steal that idea from us?! Though no — they shouldn't have known yet. No video leaks had hit the Net.
There was just enough light to make out each other, and we all looked deathly pale and creepy. Clearly intentional, for maximum effect. When it got brighter, everyone picked up the pace and reached a wide entrance resembling an archway.
— I don't like it here. — Adelgunda passed her verdict. — I already regret inviting you.
— What?! — I asked, genuinely baffled. — I think the team did a solid job. Outside it's broad daylight, and in here it's pitch black, except for this wall-glow. And look what they've got instead of chairs…
The entire floor was covered with colorful mats, pressed tightly together, resting on some kind of boxes.
— That's so you can see the stage better. — I guessed, and was the first to try sitting on the contraption. To be honest, my ass screamed for mercy after a second — the box was way too hard. The mat didn't provide nearly enough comfort.
Ada sat down next to me cautiously, first shining a flashlight on the mat and thoroughly feeling it.
— Silk. And the box is regular particle board.
— If you only knew what's inside it… — I said meaningfully, and in the flashlight beam I saw her lips tremble.
— A joke about a built-in launch device? — Odile asked. — Quite possible. Still, I prefer to absorb art and merge with it not while sitting on a pedestal level with the actors, but from below. Like a devoted spectator.
He removed a mat and placed it on the floor. Sitting cross-legged, he immediately slipped into a trance and began rocking. For Odile, that meant tuning in. He sometimes went through the same process not only when the fate of the world was at stake, but also when he was waiting for food to heat up in the microwave. I was used to it by now.