"There are many more sites that fall at defined intervals from the Giza line. All sacred. Most constructed by unknown peoples, involving pyramids or some form of raised structure. It cannot be a coincidence that these are located at precise points on the globe."
"And you think whoever carved the writing in the stones was responsible for all that?" Davis asked.
"Remember, all explanations are rational. And when you consider the megalithic yard, the conclusion becomes inescapable."
She'd never heard the term.
"From the 1950s until the mid-1980s, Alexander Thom, a Scottish engineer, undertook an analysis of forty-six neolithic and Bronze Age stone circles. He eventually surveyed more than three hundred sites and discovered that there was a common unit of measure used in every one of them. He called it the megalithic yard."
"How is that possible," she asked, "considering the varied cultures?"
"The fundamental idea is quite sound.
"Monuments like Stonehenge, which exist all over the planet, were nothing more than ancient observatories. Their builders deciphered that if they stood in the center of a circle and faced the sunrise, marking the location of the event each day, after one year 366 markers would lie on the ground. The distance between those markers was a constant 16.32 inches.
"Of course those ancient people did not measure in inches," Scofield said, "but that was the modern equivalent from reproducing the technique."
Those same ancient peoples then learned that it took 3.93 minutes for a star to move from one marker to the next.
"Again, they didn't utilize minutes, but they nonetheless observed and noted a constant unit of time." Scofield paused. "Here's the interesting part.
"For a pendulum to swing 366 times over 3.93 minutes, it has to be exactly 16.32 inches long.
"Amazing, wouldn't you say? And no way coincidental. That's why 16.32 inches was chosen by the ancient builders for the megalithic yard."
Scofield seemed to catch their disbelief.
"It's not all that unique," he said. "A similar method was once proposed as an alternative for determining the length of a standard meter. The French ultimately decided that it would be better to use a division of the meridian quadrant, as they didn't trust their timepieces."
"How could ancient peoples know this?" Davis asked. "It would take a sophisticated understanding of mathematics and orbital mechanics."
"There's that modern arrogance again. These people were not ignorant cavemen. They possessed an intuitive intelligence. They were conscious of their world. We narrow our senses and study little things. They widened their perceptions and learned the cosmos."
"Is there any scientific evidence to prove this?" she asked.
"I just gave you physics and mathematics-which, by the way, that seafaring society would have understood. Alexander Thom posited that wooden measuring rods of a megalithic yard length could have been used for surveying purposes, and that they must have been produced from a central place in order to maintain the consistency he observed at the building sites. These people taught their lessons well to willing students."
She could see that he believed everything he was saying.
"There are a number of numerical coincidences with other measuring systems used throughout history that provide some support to the megalithic yard. When studying the Minoan civilization, the archaeologist J. Walter Graham proposed that the people of Crete used a standard measure, which he termed the Minoan foot. There's a correlation. Three hundred sixty-six megalithic yards equal exactly one thousand Minoan feet. Another amazing coincidence, wouldn't you say?
"There's also a connection between the ancient Egyptian measurement of the royal cubit and the megalithic yard. A circle with a diameter of one-half a royal cubit will have a circumference equal to one megalithic yard. How could such a direct correlation be possible without a common denominator? It's as if the Minoans and the Egyptians were taught the megalithic yard, then they adapted the unit to their own situations."
"Why have I never read or heard of any of this?" Davis asked.
"Mainstream scientists can neither confirm nor deny the megalithic yard. They argue that there's no evidence that pendulums were in common use, or even that the principle of the pendulum was known before Galileo. But there's that arrogance again. Somehow we are always the first to realize everything. They also say that neolithic peoples had no system of written communication able to record information about orbits and planetary motions. But-"
"The rocks," she said. "They contained writing."
Scofield smiled. "Precisely. Ancient writing in an unknown language. Yet until such time as they can be deciphered, or a neolithic measuring rod is actually found, this theory will remain unproven."
Scofield went silent. She was waiting for that more.
"I was only allowed to work with the stones," he said. "Everything was brought to a warehouse at Fort Lee. But there was a refrigerated section of that warehouse. Locked off. Only the admiral went inside. Its contents were already there when I arrived. Dyals told me that if I solved the language problem, then I'd get a look inside."
"No clue what was in there?" Davis asked.
Scofield shook his head. "The admiral was crazy about secrecy. He always kept those lieutenants up my ass. I was never alone inside the building. But I sensed that the important items were stored in that freezer."
"Did you get to know Ramsey?" Davis asked.
"Oh, yes. He was Dyals' favorite. Clearly in charge."
"Ramsey is behind this," Davis declared.
Scofield's gloom and annoyance seemed to mount. "Does he have any idea what I could have written about those stones? They should have been shown to the world. They would confirm all that I've researched. A previously unknown culture, seafaring, that existed long before our civilization ever rose, capable of language. It's revolutionary."
"Ramsey could not care less," Davis said. "His only interest is himself."
She was curious. "How did you know this culture was seafaring?"
"Reliefs on the stones. Long boats, sophisticated sailing crafts, whales, icebergs, seals, penguins, and not the small ones. Tall ones, the size of a man. We now know a species like that once existed in the Antarctic, but they've been extinct for tens of thousands of years. Yet I saw carvings of them."
"So what happened to that lost culture?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Probably the same thing that happens to all of man's societies. We wipe ourselves out either intentionally or recklessly. Either way, we're gone."
Davis faced her. "We need to go to Fort Lee and see if that stuff is still there."
"It's all classified," Scofield said. "You'll never get near it."
He was right. But she saw that Davis would not be deterred. "Don't be so sure."
"Can I go to sleep now?" Scofield said. "I have to be up in a few hours for our annual hunt. Wild boar and bows and arrows. I take a group from the conference every year out into the woods."
Davis stood. "Sure. We'll be out of here in the morning, too."
She stood.
"Look," Scofield said, resignation in his voice. "I am sorry about the attitude. I appreciate what you did."
"You ought to consider not going hunting," she said.
He shook his head. "I can't disappoint the participants. They look forward to it each year."
"It's your call," Davis said. "But I think you're okay. Ramsey would be a fool to come after you again, and he's anything but that."
SEVENTY-TWO
Bacchus tells me that they have communicated with many peoples and they respect all forms of language, finding each beautiful in its own way. The language of this gray land is a flowing tongue in an alphabet long ago perfected. On writing they are conflicted. It is necessary, but they warn that writing encourages forgetfulness and discourages memory and they are correct. I wander freely among the people with no fear. Crime is rare and punished by isolation. One day, I was asked to help lay the cornerstone of a wall. Bacchus was pleased with my involvement and urged me to irritate the vessels of the earth, for they distill a strange wine that grows under my hand and covers the whole of heaven. Bacchus says that we should worship this marvel for it provides life. Here the world is broken by mighty winds and voices that cry aloud in a tongue mortal men cannot speak. To the sounds of this primal joy I enter the house of Hathor and offer five jewels upon an altar. The wind sings loudly, so much that all who are there seem entranced and I truly think we are in heaven. Before a statue we kneel and give praise. The sound of a flute haunts the air. Snows are eternal and a strange perfume smokes upward. One night Bacchus broke forth into a monstrous speech that I could not appreciate. I asked to be taught the means of understanding and Bacchus agreed and I willingly embraced the language of heaven. I am glad my king allowed me to come to this wild country of the waning sun. These people rave and howl, they froth out folly. For a time I was afraid of being alone. I dreamed of warm sunsets, bright flowers, and thick vines. But no longer. Here the soul is drunken. Life is full. It slays, and suffices, but never disappoints. • • • I have noticed a strange constant. Everything that turns, naturally turns to the left. Lost people move to the left. Snow swirls to the left. The tracks of the animals in the snow bear to the left. The sea creatures swim in left-banked circles. Flocks of birds approach from a leftward direction. The sun in summer moves all day around the horizon, always from right to left. Youth are encouraged to know their natural surroundings. They are taught how to anticipate a storm or the approach danger, they grow to be aware, at peace with themselves, prepared for life. I joined a trek one day. Hiking is favored but a dangerous pursuit. A good sense of direction and agile feet are needed. I noticed that even when our guide consciously turned right, the sum of his several turns was always left so that, without landmarks, which this land totally lacks, it is almost impossible to avoid returning to your starting point from anywhere but left. Man, bird, and sea creature are integrated. This left-turning mechanism seems entirely subconscious to them all. None of those who inhabit this gray land have any realization of the habit and, when I point out the observation, they simply shrug and smile. • • • Today Bacchus and I visited Adonai, who had been told of my interest in mathematics and architecture. He is a teacher of skills and showed me measuring rods used to both design and construct. To be consistent is to be accurate, I am told. I tell him how the design of the king's chapel at Aachen had been greatly influenced by his students and he was pleased. Instead of being fearful, distrusting, or ignorant of the world, Adonai insists we should learn from what nature created. The contours of the land, the location of underground heat, the angle of the sun, and the sea are all factors considered when locating both a city and a building. Adonai's wisdom is sound and I thank him for the lesson. I am also shown a garden. Many plants are preserved, but many more have perished. Plants are grown indoors in a soil rich with ash, pumice, sand, and minerals. Plants are also grown in water, both from the sea and fresh. Flesh is rarely eaten. I am told it depletes the energy within the body and makes one more susceptible to illness. After eating a diet mainly of plants, with an occasional dish of fish, I have never felt better.