The Best of Connie Willis by Connie Willis

expanse of sand, so close they do not shimmer at all, are the Pyramids.
    Chapter Three: Getting Around
    It takes us longer than fifteen minutes. The Pyramids are farther away than they look, and the sand is deep and hard to walk in. We have to stop every few feet so Lissa can empty out her sandals, leaning against Neil.
    “We should have taken a taxi,” Zoe’s husband says, but there are no roads, and no sign of the refreshment stands and souvenir vendors the guidebook complained about, only the unbroken expanse of deep sand and the white, even sky, and in the distance the three yellow pyramids, standing in a row.
    “ ‘The tallest of the three is the Pyramid of Cheops, built in 2690 B.C .,’ ” Zoe says, reading as she walks. “ ‘It took thirty years to complete.’ ”
    “You have to take a taxi to get to the Pyramids,” I say. “There’s a lot of traffic.”
    “ ‘It was built on the west bank of the Nile, which the ancient Egyptians believed was the land of the dead.’ ”
    There is a flicker of movement ahead, between the pyramids, and I stop and shade my eyes against the glare to look at it, hoping it is a souvenir vendor, but I can’t see anything. We start walking again.
    It flickers again, and this time I catch sight of it running, hunched over, its hands nearly touching the ground. It disappears behind the middle pyramid.
    “I saw something,” I say, catching up to Zoe. “Some kind of animal. It looked like a baboon.”
    Zoe leafs through the guidebook and then says, “Monkeys. They’re found frequently near Giza. They beg for food from the tourists.”
    “There aren’t any tourists,” I say.
    “I know,” Zoe says happily. “I told you we’d avoid the rush.”
    “You have to go through customs, even in Egypt,” I say. “You can’t just leave the airport.”
    “The pyramid on the left is Kheophren,” Zoe says, “built in 2650 B.C .”
    “In the movie, they wouldn’t believe they were dead even when somebody told them,” I say. “Giza is
nine
miles from Cairo.”
    “What are you talking about?” Neil says. Lissa has stopped again and is leaning against him, standing on one foot and shaking her sandal out. “That mystery of Lissa’s,
Death on the Nile
?”
    “This was a
movie
,” I say. “They were on this ship, and they were all dead.”
    “We saw that movie, didn’t we, Zoe?” Zoe’s husband says. “Mia Farrow was in it, and Bette Davis. And the detective guy, what was his name—?”
    “Hercule Poirot,” Zoe says. “Played by Peter Ustinov. The Pyramids are open daily from eight A.M. to five P.M. Evenings there is a
Son et Lumière
show with colored floodlights and a narration in English and Japanese.”
    “There were all sorts of clues,” I say, “but they just ignored them.”
    “I don’t like Agatha Christie,” Lissa says. “Murder and trying to find out who killed who. I’m never able to figure out what’s going on. All those people on the train together.”
    “You’re thinking of
Murder on the Orient Express
,” Neil says. “I saw that.”
    “Is that the one where they got killed off one by one?” Lissa’s husband says.
    “I saw that one,” Zoe’s husband says. “They got what they deserved, as far as I’m concerned, going off on their own like that when they knew they should keep together.”
    “Giza is nine miles west of Cairo,” I say. “You have to take a taxi to get there. There is all this traffic.”
    “Peter Ustinov was in that one, too, wasn’t he?” Neil says. “The one with the train?”
    “No,” Zoe’s husband says. “It was the other one, what’s his name?”
    “Albert Finney,” Zoe says.
    Chapter Four: Places of Interest
    The Pyramids are closed. Fifty yards (45.7 m.) from the base of Cheops there is a chain barring our way. A metal sign hangs from it that says CLOSED in English and Japanese.
    “Prepare to be disappointed,” I say.
    “I thought you said they were open daily,” Lissa says, knocking