4.572 years earlier
–
She wants to wipe the sweat from her eyes, but her wrists are bound with leather straps to the massive marble stone at the center of which she stands. The stone is round, flat, and hot like the baking plate her mother uses to make pita bread every morning. The first hour was manageable, but as the second hour dragged on, it became increasingly difficult to remain standing. She nearly fainted twice, overcome by the relentless rays of her Sun God as he makes his steady journey across the skies—unhurried, uninterrupted, unwavering. Just as a god should. She will endure this. She wants to make him proud.
The edge of the stone is adorned with twelve symbols carved into the marble and inlaid with gold. Her shadow will reach the top in just a few minutes, marking the moment her God reaches the highest point of his journey—the moment he is most powerful.
Earlier this morning, it had been dark and cold when she was led through the streets in a procession of silent priests. She had shivered violently and in her dress, made of expensive but extremely thin fabric, bound together with a girdle of gold thread woven in a complex pattern. Although being chosen had filled her with immense pride, the goosebumps had embarrassed her. Admitting she felt cold seemed like an unforgivable act of disrespect to her God, even though she knew that wasn’t true. Her Sun God had no regard for such insignificant, petty human details as goosebumps. Why would he? He existed far above the lives and struggles of ordinary people, which only made the wonder of the light and warmth he provided every day even more astounding—something to be profoundly thankful for.
The first rays shooting over the horizon had been majestic and magnificent, casting the pyramids in a golden light. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
All her life, she had lived in the shadow of the gigantic geometric structures near her village. Most people no longer noticed them, having grown accustomed to their presence. Not her. There wasn’t a day she didn’t marvel at that enormous wonder. How could mankind have achieved something so perfect? Not one, not a hundred, not a thousand, not even a million men could have. Despite what many claimed, she was certain that all the stories about visionary pharaohs, brilliant architects, ingenious constructions, and countless slaves were lies—fabrications created by those incapable of acknowledging the inevitable truth. This had been the work of the Gods. The pyramids, had been forged by a mystical collision between the sands of death and the waters of life, imbued with soul by the Gods themselves. It was their pledge to humanity: that life would be eternal, that everyone would live on, even after leaving their physical bodies behind.
The pyramids were the staircase to the eternal empire under the stars, a pathway back to the source, where all would become one again. She believed this with all her heart. It was this faith that gave her the strength to see it through.
Only minutes now.
She sees her parents standing opposite her in the designated area, together with her twin sisters and little brother. A little behind them, the whole village has gathered to witness this once-in-a-lifetime ritual. She knows how proud they all are. Even her mother this morning, although she could barely hide her tears while dressing her. Even her father, although he had been even more silent than usual. There they stand: two people of humble origin, now looking beautiful and regal in flawless white fabrics adorned with golden bracelets, necklaces, clasps, and headwear.
The twins show little emotion; they never do. Destined to be priestesses, they are trained well enough to hide their feelings behind neutral expressions. It doesn’t bother her. She knows them well enough to understand how they truly feel. Their training is the only thing keeping them from breaking down.
Her little brother, however, is a different story. He has always been an emotional child, and he’s just too young to understand what is happening, let alone accept it. He hadn’t stopped protesting all week, and when he finally realized this morning that his anger wouldn’t change anything, the emotion underneath his frustration came to the surface: he started crying. He hasn’t stopped. Even now, with her eyes closed, she can hear his little sniffs break through the otherwise complete silence of the crowd. He’s the only one she would come down for, to comfort him, if only for a moment.
Only millimeters now.
The heat is scorching, the light searing. It’s time. Through two minuscule slits, she observes her shadow approaching the twelve-hour mark. The last fraction of a millimeter seems to take an eternity. Blue dots dance frantically on the inside of her eyelids. Her throat is parched, making it impossible to swallow. Her tongue is a mouthful of desert sand. The cramps in her muscles, the pain in her knees and back, the burning of her skin—she can’t shut it out anymore. Even the meditation techniques she trained so vigorously to master are useless now. The only thing left to do is pray. And so she does. She prays and prays until, finally, her knees buckle. As she sinks onto the red-hot stone surface, she knows it’s over. Her eyes roll back in their sockets. She fights to stay conscious, desperate to know if she made it. Was she still standing when Ra reached the highest point of his journey? She can only hope she was, when she succumbs to his rays, and then... as her limp body shrivels on the burning stone, all uncertainty and doubt evaporate. Within a fraction of a second, all unrest vanishes. She is completely at peace.
Images emerge, projected onto the blank canvas of her empty mind. Her earliest memories: her mother holding her wrinkled, newborn body, still scented with blood and sweat, but wearing the happiest smile in the world. Herself as a toddler, hearing the booming laughter of her father as he worked the land, his muscular body glistening with sweat like an ox. The birth of her twin sisters, and then her brother—her darling, darling baby brother. Herself as a child, playing with friends along the banks of the Nile, always wary of the bad-tempered hippos.
As a teenager, when she studied with her teachers, and when she met the first priest who told her she was different. She didn’t want to be different, but she learned to live with it. She remembered the day she was taken from her home to live in a large house with other special children like her, guided by a small group of older priests—gentle souls with fragile bodies and strong minds—who taught them. The experience had been as terrifying as it was liberating.
Now tumbling into darkness, she once again sees the eyes of the first priest projected in her mind—the same penetrating, stern, yet loving eyes that had observed her so intently when they first met. The same eyes that had gazed at her with deep affection from his deathbed only two years later. She has missed him painfully. Then the memories fade.
Still falling, only a faint remnant of awareness registers that her body still lies on the flat, polished stone, blistered, and embraced by her God’s countlessarms of fire.
And then finally the falling ends. Her consciousness returns although she somehow missed the moment when her feet touched solid ground. Tentatively, she moves her right foot forward. Only after twenty centimeters, it meets an obstacle. A wall? No, a step. A staircase. Could this be the stairway to heaven described in the teachings? Is she meant to climb it, step by step, all the way to the Gods? She can do it. She has trained for this. Determined, she lifts her right foot and places it on the first step... “Bravo.”
Although the voice sounds friendly enough, she doesn’t answer. You don’t talk to Gods without being asked to speak.
“You’ve trained well, little Maät, but now you can forget all of it again. The training was only to sharpen your concentration and determination—admirable qualities, but of no use here. This is the last phase; this is about letting go.”
Although the voice doesn’t sound dramatic or pretentious, she feels the gravity of the words.
“It’s nothing less than a wonder that you’ve made it this far, little Maät. So many before you have failed, and so many of us have already gone over to the other side. We, who are still here to protect our legacy, are starting to fade too, slowly losing our physical form. That’s why we need you, Maät—little wonder, protector of order and fighter against chaos. Without your ears and eyes, we will be deaf and blind. You will live forever, exactly as you wanted.”
Suddenly, she understands it. Well... not it, but everything. Suddenly, she knows how even her teachers have misinterpreted the teachings of the Gods. Suddenly, she remembers the mysterious, long and slender figures with exceptionally elongated heads that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. In our world, but not from our world, as her teacher had told her.
And then, even those images are gone. Knowledge fills her up like water a cup. She feels how her body, far away on the burning plate, finally cools down, and she knows she’ll never feel hot again or burn herself—not even if she threw herself into the arms of Ra himself.