Paradigms Lost by Ryk E Spoor Page A

it’s just being stubborn and refusing to gel. I need just one more thing to trigger it. Unfortunately, I haven’t got any idea what that one more thing is.”
    “Well, I have saved the part I believe you will find most entertaining for last,” Verne said. “It is, of course, natural that I would place those things I value most in the most secure area. Here is the entry to my vault—a small museum, if you will.” He led the way to another room, relatively small and undecorated, whose far wall was dominated by a no-nonsense, massive door suitable for use in banks and government secure areas. Verne placed his hand on a polished area near the door, then punched in a number on a keypad and turned the large handle. The door opened onto another set of stairs going down to a landing which ended in another door—also clearly strong, though nothing like the several-foot-thick monster Verne had just swung open. I paused, but he gestured me down. “Go first, Jason. I think you will find it more effective to see it without my leading the way.”
    I shrugged, then went down the steps. As I reached for the door handle, I saw it turn and push inward, as though grasped by an invisible hand. I felt the prickle of gooseflesh as I realized this wasn’t any cute gadgetry, but a subtle demonstration of Verne Domingo’s powers, clearly for the effect. I felt myself momentarily immersed in something mystical, standing at the edge of ancient mysteries. The black door swung open, into inky darkness. Then the same unseen force switched on the lights.
    I can’t remember what I said; I think I may have gasped something incomprehensible. What I do know is that I stood for what seemed an eternity, staring.
    In that first instant, the room was ablaze with the sunlight sheen of gold, the glitter of gems, the glow of inlay and paint so fresh it might have been finished only yesterday. At first I couldn’t even grasp the sheer size of the vault’s collection; it wasn’t possible, simply wasn’t even imaginable that so many artifacts and treasures could be here, beneath a mansion in upstate New York.
    Once more, a quote from long-ago years surfaced: Lord Carnevon to Howard Carter as Carter took the first look into the tomb of Tutankhamen: “What do you see?”
    And Howard’s response: “Wonderful things.”
    There were statues of animal-headed gods, resplendent in ebony and gold, bedecked with jeweled inlay. A wall filled with incised hieroglyphics provided a sufficient backdrop to set off coffers of jewelry, ceremonial urns, royal chariots. Farther down, beyond what was obviously the Egyptian collection, were carefully hung paintings, marble statues, books and scrolls in glass cases, something at the far end that shimmered like a blown-glass rainbow . . .
    I stepped slowly forward, almost afraid that the entire fantastic scene would disappear like smoke. I reached out, very hesitantly, and touched a finger to the golden nose of a sitting dog.
    “From the chambers of Ramses II,” Verne said from behind me, almost making me jump. “His tomb was looted quite early, as things go; I managed to procure a large number of the artifacts, which was fortunate since otherwise they would have been melted down or defaced for valuable inlay and so on.”
    I just shook my head, trying to take it in. Ramses . . . II? “That’s the one they associate with Moses?”
    “Indeed.”
    I walked cautiously around this first incredible chamber, stopping at a huge sarcophagus. The golden face rang a faint bell, which was odd because I’d seen very few statues or busts of Egyptian nobles. What . . . I studied some of the symbology, not that I was an authority or even much of an amateur in the field, but because maybe something would trigger a memory. As an information expert, it’s a matter of pride to get the answers yourself, even if it’s by luck.
    There! That disc, the rays . . .
    My head snapped up and I looked at Verne in disbelief. “No. It can’t