Word Count: 4,072
It was quite amazing how often things remained invisible to one’s eyes until given a reason to notice them.
After concluding some business in downtown Murfreesboro Tennessee, I browsed some of the shops lining Main Street. One particular establishment was a purveyor of fancy and precious stone objects in addition to incense and spiritual text. Never the superstitious sort, I paid no attention to the tarot cards and the tomes on spiritual healing. Instead, my attention focused on the polished stone artifacts concealed in illuminated glass cases. The items were simple but magnificent.
Spheres, pyramids and obelisks appeared to be the dominant shapes, but there were other things as well. One particular object, a 3-foot-tall obelisk formed from a single piece of clear quartz, seemed to pull my attention to it. Nearly five inches on each side of the base, the artifact displayed absolutely no flaws. I had the perfect display case in the corner my office, and I just knew I had to have it.
I inquired of the young lady running the shop as to the price of the item. The price she quoted nearly made me faint. I suppose I should expect such a perfect crystal object would be incredibly expensive, but the number still shocked me. Budgeting for the next few months would be tight, but I did have them means to purchase the spectacular quartz creation.
As the shopkeeper protectively packed my new decoration, two more items caught my attention. Both of them cut in the shape of pyramids. While I waited for the box containing the obelisk, I browsed over the rest of the encased objects. Of them all, these two-to-three-inch sided pyramids struck me as remarkable. The prices were displayed along with these items, and these were well within my financial reach.
One possessed an amazing visual effect. The object appeared clear, slightly milky, but clear. As I looked at it from different angles, it produced a laser hologram type of effect. The second was multicolored and emitted a beautiful glow when exposed to a florescent light.
Within only minutes of leaving the shop, I began to notice the shapes everywhere. Large concrete obelisks towered over the entrance to the University. At the head of the grass median set a granite pyramid surrounded by perennials.
As I approached home, I passed by a large cemetery. More tombstones than not either incorporated the pyramid or the obelisk into its form. Over the next few weeks, it seemed like there was nowhere I could look without seeing one of the two shapes. The big question that consumed my thoughts was why.
Why were these two shapes so dominant in the construction of the area?
I saw them in TV sitcom neighborhoods. I saw them decorating the living room sets of drama programs. I even saw them in cartoons my children enjoy.
Why? What made these particular forms so popular?
As a documentary film director, I had to find an answer to this question. My research began with Egypt, but I quickly discovered a staggering quantity of ancient cultures which utilize the pyramid and the obelisk in nearly every aspect of their architecture.
My curiosity deepened as I learned more, and the more I learn the more I had to know. The need to construct such objects either big or small seemed to be as built into the human mind as the need to find a “true” religion. These seemed to be woven into the fabric of the human mind. Something in our nature compelled us to replicate the structures over and over, from one civilization to the next.
I found it next to impossible to think the monumental pyramids were constructed to house the mummified remains of a pharaoh or even the royal bloodline. One of the undeniable flaws in this logic was simple. No one ever found bodies, burial chambers or catacombs inside the structures. Such mausoleums were found in smaller rectangular buildings buried in the surrounding sands, but never any inside the pyramids themselves.
Different prehistoric nations throughout the world utilized figures from their mythology to create constellation maps of the stars. The three stars on Orion’s belt were viewed as symbols of various mythological deities and pyramidal representation of these stars could be found all over the world. This could not be a mere coincidence.
An alien conspiracy documentary colleague I once dismissed as fanciful and superstitious became someone with whom I worked ever more often. My wife worried for the credibility of my career if I were to continue with my associate, with Dr. Nebbins, but I paid her no mind. I imagine she cared more of what her superficial friends thought than my prestige.
Some mainstream archaeologists thought perhaps the pyramids were the ancient’s way of keeping track of annual weather cycles, but Nebbins held not even a fleeting doubt these were only secondary functions. What he believed to be their primary purpose seem to defy all rational logic. Nebbins believe the pyramid and obelisks structures of the past were to connect us with the gods.
These gods, he theorized, were no less than one or more extraterrestrial species. He was certain the secret to reaching the stellar beings was somehow encoded on the pyramids throughout the world. Nebbins believed these were clues left behind for us to discover.
This last part of his theory made no sense to me. Why would aliens come to earth, engineer the construction of tens of thousands of pyramids known worldwide, and then leave them falling into ruins. If anything, the buildings lived out their usefulness, and whatever created them left Earth for a new destination.
Then I learned something shocking. An engineer and defense contractor built seven steel and fiberglass pyramids much steeper than most of those from ancient times. The inside of the structure contained very little, really nothing more than the underside of the outside walls. He believed shape alone created an energy field of unknown origin.
Plants left to grow in these modern pyramids showed a 30% increase in their normal production. Antibiotic microbes allowed to remain in the center of these pyramids for a single lunar cycle showed hundreds or even thousands of times the potency of those kept in traditional conditions. People frequenting the fiberglass structured showed a marked decrease in heart disease and some types of cancer.
In 2010 two Russian jet fighters on training routines reported encountering a strange electromagnetic anomaly as they passed over one of the structures. Initial reports were that the jets were attacked by some form of new energy weapon. This I chalked up to being nothing but publicity propaganda intended to draw more tourists to the locations. I read the first-hand studies that showed unequivocally how some organisms did show measurable results, but electromagnetic field 10 miles high above the structures seemed a bit too much to believe.
I learned of a man in Bolivia, an outcast and the scientific community, who theorized a series of four-sided hills in his native country were pyramids. He believed, due to their sheer size, they had too have been covered intentionally. Loose rock and sediment could never work its way to that height. If this archaeological pariah was indeed correct, the largest of the Bolivian pyramids exceeded the largest pyramid in Egypt by more than twice the height and six times the mass. Not only that, samples from road like structures sent to six independent labs yielded the same astonishing results. The concrete was without a doubt artificial, it was at least 10,000 years old, and the quality at this age was still three times that of anything produced in this century.
My wife, a churchgoing woman, began to see my obsession with the pyramids as an obsession with the occult. She thought Dr. Nebbins to be nothing more than a dreamer and a laughingstock in the world of documentary film. As I spent more time in this archaeological research, she became increasingly cold and distant.
Devastation overwhelmed my one-track mind when I returned home late to find my wife and the children gone. At first, I assumed she took the children to a neighbor or friend, then I noticed many other things missing. I ran into the hall and a frantic rush of fear. In my mind, my family was kidnapped.
I thought perhaps my research was coming too close to someone, or something which wanted to stay secret, but the beige envelope propped up on the gaudy table froze me in my tracks. It was the dreaded dear John letter.
My wife of 15 years took my three children and moved to her mother’s in California. She thought I lost my grip on reality, her reality, and worried for her eternal soul and the souls of our children.
I called her multiple times over the next three days. She never answered her mobile phone and no one ever picked up at her mother’s. I again began to fear something tragic befell them until the sheriff deputy arrived at my door. Once verifying my identity, he served me with a restraining order preventing me from calling or visiting my wife and mother-in-law.
I sank into a deep depression. Alcohol, something for which I never cared, became my best friend. Not leaving my house for over three months, I survived on fattening delivery foods as I had no desire to cook. I had no desire to cook, and I did not have any food to cook even if I did.
I ignored my phones. Eventually my home phone and my mobile phone could hold no more messages, yet I continue to ignore them. A producer of mine wanted me to direct a film on the fact are fiction of man-made global climate change. This assignment would reinstate my credibility and fix my mounting financial difficulties, but I never answered or returned any of his calls.
By three months my insurance lapped, my utilities were all disconnected, and the same deputy sheriff arrived on my doorstep with a foreclosure notice. I lost my wife, I lost my children, and now I lost my home. My crazy obsession with two simple geometric shapes ruined my life, but I still could not stop fascinating over them.
I packed my ever-growing collection of stone objects and moved it into a small, one bedroom apartment. I took very little furniture as the confines of my new home allowed for close to nothing. Foremost I made sure to allow room for my stained mahogany display case, then I never worried about space for anything else. What I could not take I commissioned a lecherous company built on preying on the unfortunate to sell my remaining possessions.
I saw very little money from the liquidation. Eight months after my wife took my children and left my life for good, I got my first stroke of good luck. Someone knocked hard on my door and jarred me for my drunken sleep. Rolling off of the fabric couch, I knocked several mostly empty bottles of beer to the floor. As the amber bottles slurped the remainder of their stale contents onto my stained carpet, I staggered sluggishly to the door.
At the door stood a well-dressed man. The tailored suit and Italian shoes were like those that once adorned my body. Now I stood in a flannel shirt and my off-white briefs. I recognize the man. He worked for the bank. Without any thought I began to berate the man with every curse and swear that my hung-over mind could articulate.
When I finally let up on the poor man, he informed me my home sold for more than the remainder of my mortgage. All I had to do was go to the bank and sign for the excess of $100,000 that awaited me.
At the time I was much too inebriated to drive to the bank, and I passed out shortly after the man left. When I finally came to, a sunbeam glaring into the east window struck me blind. The hangover left from the previous night already gave my cranium the sensation of exploding. The yellow orange rays of the morning sun made me think my skull would implode at the same time.
On the end table of my couch sat a bottle of beautiful brown whiskey. There must’ve been two or more shots left in the uncapped container. Like a helpless sea turtle on the wet sands of the beach, I awkwardly pushed and shoved my way out of the accursed sunlight. This only mildly relieved the headache echoing inside the bones of my skull. Fighting back the intent nausea that begged me to empty my stomach contents on the floor, I pulled myself up to my knees.
I stretched my arm until I heard the rush of blood in my ears. Catching it with only my middle and index finger, I nearly pulled the bottle of glorious brew onto the floor. My reflexes triumphed over the shakes and I managed to catch the bottle right before I lost my magical elixir.
Moving through instinct rather than thought, I lifted the smooth glass opening to my lips and let the bitter fluid pour straight down my throat. The vaporous fumes permeated my sinuses bringing me a few steps closer to consciousness. Once the hair of the dog did its thing, I staggered to the cluttered bathroom to take a shower.
None of the towels were clean, so I found the least musty smelling one and dried my body with it. I knew I still stank of alcohol, the very smell seeped from the pores of my skin. I overcompensated with use of an excessive amount of antiperspirant. I hoped the two would fight an even enough of a battle to render me presentable.
Coincidently, the only clothes in my house not in desperate need of washing were my dress clothes. I mostly only wore suits to church, and there was not much need for them of late. My expensive loafers still remained in the box from the last time I sent them to be professionally polished. That was two weeks before my wife took the kids and left.
I arrived at the bank at precisely 10:32 AM. A year ago, I would’ve called that late morning. In the drunken haze I was in the last few months of my life I consider this to be extremely early. In my regularly inebriated state, I slept as late as my intoxicated brain allowed me.
The formalities frustrated me to the brink of releasing the reins on my anger. The man at the bank insisted on several forms of identification, and ask me multiple questions about my recent home address. There for a short time I thought he would ask me for a drop of my blood.
This bank took my house and sold it at auction for a fraction of its value. After deducting any charges and fees they wanted, I got what little remained. $100,000 was a lot of money, but it paled in comparison to the value of my home. I wanted this jerk to give me my money so I could get up and leave.
A pocket full of cash made me feel alive again. When I returned to my apartment and saw the deplorable conditions in which I was living, I realized I hit rock bottom. Easily fifty beer cans, seven or eight liquor bottles, and a dozen pizza boxes made up the landfill that my life became.
I cleaned my apartment, cut my shaggy hair, and cut off the Grizzly Adams beard whose primary function was to store potato chip crumbs. Once I had the look and confidence of a respectable man, I sought out my old friend Dr. Nebbins. To my dismay, I found he passed away during my drunken isolation.
He must have known I would eventually resume my research because he left several file boxes for me to examine. Much of the information stored in the plastic boxes he told me about, we worked on it together, or it was rather common archaeological, knowledge. The old scientist did leave me a few breadcrumbs to follow.
Tucked in a stiff folder bound with rubber bands, I found a loose collection of materials. Among them I found maps, a collection of his final notes kept together with a paper clasp and a large envelope. I set the envelope off to the side until I had time to go through Nebbins notes.
Shortly after my breakdown and I fell off the professional map, Nebbins came by a physicist with some radical theories about the pyramids even I thought to be ridiculous. I came to believe the pyramids all over the world to be markers for extraterrestrial visitors. Perhaps they were used to assist with the navigation of aerial vehicles. Perhaps their configuration around the world mark Earth for identification, a sort of nametag if you will. What Nebbins came to believe in his final days made my idea seem practical.
This physicist, a man from Hamburg Germany, theorized the pyramids were in reality energy generators. Made from cut stone with no movable parts to create power, this idea was absolutely absurd. The only documented report of unusual energy associated with the pyramids was the report made by the Russian air force pilots concerning the fiberglass structure built only decades ago, but no confirmation was ever made.
Nebbins made it very clear in his journal this was the truth behind the mystery of the pyramids. Nebbins could be rather eccentric in his line of thinking, but he always seemed to be a rational man. He believed many ideas to possess some validity, but in his final entries Nebbins stated he found the true purpose of the ancient structures.
Abandoning all other ideas, Nebbins focused his remaining wealth on unlocking this ancient secret. This physicist convinced Nebbins some simple trick would cause the buildings to once again produce energy from the very ground upon which they stood. Perhaps his age made him easy prey for the unnamed German, for the scientist goaded Nebbins on with the promise of eternity. To his dying breath, Nebbins felt this to be the absolute truth to the mystery of the pyramids.
Guilt washed over me, and I broke out in a cold sweat. Had I not been so wrapped up in my own well of depression, I may have prevented Nebbins from selling everything he had to fund expeditions all over the world. My old friend thought he was paying to send teams to key places in the world. He thought the trick to turning the power plants on was to do so in a specific sequence coordinated through hundreds of individual structures. He thought this physicist was using the money to achieve this goal, but I suspected the German saw an old man desperate to learn the knowledge he made his life’s work to find. I think he preyed on Nebbins in those final days to suck the man dry of his worldly possessions before my colleague left this life.
When I reached the last scribed page in the journal, I found it addressed to me directly. It seemed Nebbins was sure I would get the few things he still had left and used his last entry to give me a message. I wondered if my friend had gone insane, for the word scribed on the page made no sense.
“Mark my friend, before I leave, there is something I must tell you. We did not know what the ground looked like until we took to the air. We did not see the earth until we were able to escape its atmosphere. The only way to truly understand the universe is to step outside of it and look back in.
“Humankind is absolutely deluded into thinking our narrowly focused senses could even begin to perceive the truths of all that is. Arrogant with our technology and knowledge, we knew no more of reality than the hermit crab in the tide-pool understands the orbit of the planets.
“The Big Bang that created this universe was no more than a brief spark of light. Black holes in this universe continually create more, but this universe resides in the black hole of in another universe. In turn, that universe is no more than a disembodied particle in this universe.
“We call the circular existences impossibilities, paradoxes because our infinitely narrow way of thinking. In truth, they are really embarrassingly simple. One simply has to be ready to accept everything they know to be wrong. All of our science is flawed because we limit it with our intelligence.
“We think we are smarter now because we develop ever increasingly complex technologies. The truth is, people 10,000 years ago understood this universe much more than we as they understood our universe was only a very small part of the infinite whole.
“Alien visitors were not from different parts of this galaxy or any other galaxy. They were from Earth, just not this one. The laws of their universe followed different laws of physics, if anything can really be called a law. As I said, you must accept everything you know to be wrong.
“The simple geometry of the pyramid generates a nearly endless supply of energy. This energy feeds another version of reality inside the web of all that is and is not. Except the simplicity and it will begin to make sense.”
That was the end of the journal. Obviously Nebbins was suffering from dementia before his death. He spoke in circular sentences and logical nonsense. A universe was made by the universe it created? That was a bit too much.
Exhausted, I started to my bedroom. In the hall stood the case holding that obelisk I bought several years back. Before I turned off the light, I thought I saw a crack in the beautiful quartz construct. Possibly no more than a trick of light, I decided to check on the obelisk that cost me a small fortune.
The artifact looked shattered, but remained in one piece. Angry, I opened the case to look at my worthless decoration. Gazing into it’s form, I witnessed the impossible. Light refracted in layers similar to cracks, but the layers of faint rainbows were in a state of flux.
What is, is not and what is not is. The words and my friend came back to my mind. I have to except everything I know is wrong. Worlds, stranger than anything I ever imagine appeared in the quarts structure of the obelisk. Although it stood there in the case in front of me, I look from the inside out. The simplicity of the object was extraordinary, extraordinary but more complex in its mathematics than ever considered in this day and age.
I knew all matter consisted of pure energy, but only now could I see it. See is a misused term. What I perceived extended beyond my five senses. Energies invisible to my eyes played in beautiful colors and indescribable entities surrounded and even passed right through me.
The slow degradation of my energy became perceivable. I knew, when I died, the energy would take on a new form without the burden of my consciousness. The cohesion that made me me would one day end then I would cease to be.
My soul extended to encompass the galaxy, but it existed inside the galaxy. The universe did not exist but there it was right in front of me. Reality became a sponge of holes, strands, and intersections. As confusing as it should be, the simple shapes explained the complexity of the multi-verse.
If my mind and my energy went separate ways, my life truly meant nothing at all. I know why kings, pharaohs and emperors thought they would become gods. They utilized the pyramid to compress their limited energy to create a singularity of infinite heat and density. The final amount of their lives gave birth to a new universe. In a way, they did become gods.
As my last will, I released myself in the maelstrom of the shifting chaos that formed the logic of the absolute truth. In billions of years, marked in the laws of its new universe, the first life forms would arise. My life ended and a new reality began due to the influence of simple shapes.
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