The Memory Painter

In the video, Claudette was speaking at the podium. Martin was visible, just at the edge of the frame, running a projector. “The Great Pyramid at Giza … if you look, inside the King’s Chamber, its interior shows signs of being subjected to extreme temperatures. Here, the chamber walls have been pushed out by a powerful explosion,” she said, pointing on the projection with a laser, “with a force strong enough to crack the ceiling beams. One theory is that this damage resulted from an earthquake, but if that is true, then why do no other chambers show signs of suffering similar damage?”


She continued as the next image displayed another chamber. “Here you can see a huge buildup of salt crystals found in the Queen’s Chamber. Why salt? Why here? Salt crystals are usually the result of a reaction between limestone and gaseous vapors, which suggests that this particular chamber took in fluids. Salt also happens to be a natural by-product when chemicals react to produce hydrogen.”

Bryan’s eyebrows shot up. Hydrogen?

“The evidence points to the real possibility that this pyramid was a power plant, if you will, one that suffered a catastrophic meltdown. We have joined with expert engineers and physicists who are willing to come forward with theories based on hard science. What we’re touching on today is just the beginning.”

Excitement stirred inside Bryan. It was the study Claudette had been referring to at dinner. This was important. Somehow, this involved him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He paused the video and hurried to the door, hoping it was Linz. He opened it—and was met by his mother, holding two grocery bags filled with food.

“I know I should have called first, but you would have just told me not to come.”