Here’s how one of the weirdest days of my life started.
It felt like morning, though I saw no windows or clock in the room. A fluorescent light tube buzzed overhead. Someone was knocking on a door. I sat up in bed, feeling completely lost and confused, until memories of the evening before came flooding back. I kept hoping they would disintegrate the way bad dreams do when you wake up. They did not. The small room that reminded me of a college dorm. Not that I had ever lived in a college dorm, though I hoped I soon would.
More knocking, and the door opened. A young woman wearing a lab coat looked in. “I’m Jeanette,” she said. “Dr. Eisenberg’s assistant. He wants you in the lab in half an hour.” She stepped inside.
“I’ll also be making sure you have everything you need.” She looked around and checked the closet and chest of drawers. “I see you didn’t have a chance to pack. I’ll get you some clothes. You just have time to get dressed and eat. Maybe shower, if you’re quick about it. Facilities in there.” She gestured behind me. “I always knock before I come in, but I would appreciate it if you wear pants at all times, except in the bathroom. Some things I just don’t need to see any more of.”
She left as quickly and efficiently as she had arrived.
The path to that strange morning started in 1922. Well really, thousands of years before that, but in November, 1922, long before anybody I knew was born, a British archeologist named Howard Carter, along with some of his colleagues, discovered and opened the tomb of an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh named Tutankhamen. You’ve probably heard of the good Pharaoh, popularly known as King Tut. Many books, movies, and television shows have documented the tale, with varying degrees of fiction often added to boost sales. Fictions aside, large quantities of invaluable artifacts were removed from the tomb, without respect for the dead or proper acknowledgement of Egyptian cultural heritage.
One more artifact, besides those Carter and his associates proudly carried away and put on display in museums, was unwisely removed. That artifact has never been written about or even had its very existence publicly acknowledged, til now.
This is the story of that artifact. Or the part of the story that changed my life, anyway, and led me to meet Dr. Eisenberg, Jeanette, and others I could have lived happily ever after without knowing. It’s a long story, and I wouldn’t believe half of it it it hadn’t happened to me. These events led me to understand why those who delve into secrets of the dead should proceed with much circumspection, utmost caution, and great respect.
End of preview.
To buy at Barnes and Noble —
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1144039904
or Amazon (different cover image, same book)–
