The Giza Death Star Revisited: A New Steemit Novel Chapter 12

in #writing5 years ago

The Giza Death Star Revisited: A Novel Based on the Work of Joseph P. Farrell


©2017 by Carl Joseph DeMarco




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Prev. Chapters: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11

Chapter 12


Vaporous mirages marked the horizon. The sun roasted everyone’s thighs. Faro regretted wearing shorts, and everyone else regretted wearing long pants. The open car didn’t help. Instead of a cooling breeze, they were hit with the constant blast of a giant hairdryer set on “hi.” They were relieved to reach their destination.

They piled out of the vehicle, which was parked about 10 yards from the hole. Faro walked over to a new addition to the scene and beheld it with his hands on his hips.

“What’s all this?”

Dr. Faro was referring to a trailer of junk that included everything but the, wait a minute, it did in fact include the kitchen sink--one of those big old cast iron sinks with the white ceramic coating.

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“I put that together while we were waiting for you guys. If we’re going to test the depth of this hole, we might as well have fun doing it. Saving the car for last.”

“Well, OK,” laughed the professor.

“How do you get into this stuff, Giuseppe?” asked Georgeann. “This is one I’m glad I didn’t miss.”

Before the fun started, our intrepid crew of explorers wanted to conduct some more scientific type experiments. Frank had rigged up a 10 million candle power spot light to sit directly over the abyss. It was suspended from four poles pounded into the ground around the giant hole and connected to a portable power source.

“Oh my God!” Faro mockingly clutched his heart. “You actually got over that thing to rig that up?”

“Not exactly,” said Melissa. We pounded in the stakes, then wired it up and adjusted the cables until it was centered.”

“Dear God. I’d’ve been afraid just to pound the stakes this close to that thing.”

“I’ve got this mirror on a pole. We’ll hold this over the hole and see if the spotlight picks up anything down there.”

Frank handed it to the professor who passed it to Georgeann like a hot potato. “Here. You handle it.”

Frank switched on the light that blazed even in the midday sun. The hole lit up like daylight, but no bottom could be seen. It was just spotlight beam as far as the eye could see.

“See anything, Georgeann?”

“Yeah. A whole lot of light. Get it? A “hole’ lot….”

“We get it. We get it.” Faro thought for a minute. “What about a 'laser?'” he said with air quotes impersonating Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers films.

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“Brought one.”

“Well let’s rig that up and see what happens. You have a rangefinder to time the return?”

“Of course.”

Frank and Melissa maneuvered the spotlight and detached it from the rigging. They had designed their own laser rangefinder. When the laser was turned on, it started a timer, which then recorded the time when the reflection of the laser hit a sensor on the device. They attached it to the same rigging as the spot, having had planned it into their designs.

“Let her rip.”

Frank switched on the laser and the gang waited for the beep on the rangefinder. The numbers raced away on the timer like a stopwatch. They stared in amazement as it raced over 10 seconds. Now the speed of light, as you probably know, is approximately 186,282 miles per second, which means the laser beam in the hole had so far traveled over 1,862,820 miles, or over five times the distance to the moon, yet this hole was directed toward the center of the Earth! Frank switched off the rangefinder.

“Who else knows about this?” Faro asked lifting his hat to scratch his pate.

“No one but you two, as far as we know.”

Melissa walked over to the vehicle and came back with a Geiger counter. She switched it on and it clicked like a chorus of katydids that were all out of sync.

“It’s well above background radiation but it has subsided since the first day.”

Frank tried a Gauss meter. “Gee-hose-a-phat! 2000 milliGausses!”

“It’s a wonder we’re not dead already! Or gone mad.”

“Well, what’s with the junk trailer anyway?”

“I figure we toss it down the hole one item at a time from smallest to biggest.”

“What’s that supposed to prove?”

“Nothing really. We won’t hear it hit bottom, but we find irregularities in the hole if anything gets jammed up or bounces off. Then we can try the laser again where we think the irregularity is.”

“Fair enough.”

“At least it’ll be fun.”

They started with a microwave oven. Frank and Melissa started singing “Money for Nothing” by Dire Straits. “We gotta install microwave ovens....we gotta move these refrigerators....we gotta move these color TVs…”

And so, according to the song they worked their way through the discarded merchandise and each time heard nothing.

Finally, they got to the car. It was a 1971 Buick Estate wagon.

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It still had a tattered interior and the 455 engine, but the exterior color had long rusted away. They shifted it into neutral and carefully rolled it off the trailer and stopped it with a couple of rocks for wheel chocks.

“Everyone ready?” asked Frank.

Everyone nodded and took positions around the car.

“Any message for the Devil?” quipped Faro.

Frank kicked the makeshift chocks away and shouted, “Look out below!” as the quartet shoved the behemoth of a car into the abyss.

They listened. Five seconds. 10 seconds. 30 seconds. Nothing.



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