Tuesday, June 20, 2023

About The Wadjet-Man book...

 

 

The Wadjet-Man: The Future Adventures of Alexander the Great (FICTIONAL, c.2023) by Author, Michael J. Costa.  Copyright 2023 MJC.  This is a new novel, NOT "Eye of the Pharaoh" -- the Wadjet-Eye is the symbol of the Superhero in this novel. 

ISBN: 9798398297478

Chapter 1: Frozen Memories

 

          Long ago in the sands of Babylon the General known as Alexander slipped into a cave.  He was searching for a solution to his fever brought on by Malaria.  Had he not been so close to his diseased friend atop the funeral pyre last week he would be fine.  The cave existed underneath his refurbished palace, just below the heated bath.   A natural spring fed the bath from a corridor leading into this cave.  Within its walls dwelt two naturally occurring features: one filled with salty, brackish water; the other with liquid Nitrogen and a mixture of liquid Oxygen and Helium.

          He was allowed access to the second pool and was instantly flash-frozen, not dead quite yet, but encased in Time.  His body, asleep so to speak, was placed into a gold coffin and brought to Egypt by a train of mules by his successor Ptolemy I Soter.   In the Roman Empire era, he was moved again to Italy by Caligula.  There he waited to be found underneath the foundation to a hotel built in the 1900’s CE.  His gold coffin was replaced by one made of glass and his items placed into this new Mausoleum fashioned of Marble. 

 

          Workers penetrated the tile floor basement of the Royal Pisa Hotel in central Italy with steel hammers and crowbars.   A newly discovered tomb was mapped by Global Positioning Satellites in orbit above the night sky.  Dust settled, and then lights flickered.   A Foreman said in rough Italian to raise the foundation. This broke the pedestal and unveiled a solid granite sarcophagus covered with golden rosettes on blue silk, from Ptolemaic Egypt. 

          “Can it be…? Iskander?” asked the Foreman.   “Iskander Magnus?”

          Someone pushed the cracked sandstone lid to one angle and projected their electric strobe light inside the sarcophagus. 

          “Yes…YES! The Hieroglyphs are faint, but it does say ‘Alexander son of Philip and Zeus, Conqueror of the East, Lord of the World.’ Romeo, cut the ties on the ropes to lower the sarcophagus,” said an official.

          “The inside… It’s glass. It’s not gold at all.  That darn Caligula! He did this!” a worker exclaimed in disappointment.

          “Then the words of our ancestors are true.  This is the tomb of Alexander the Great,” Romeo replied.  

          “Romeo, cast your light onto the glass lid for a moment. Something doesn’t appear to be right,” said Director Michel Constantine. 

           “Aye, sir,” Romeo replied as he did as he was asked.  The interior of the glass was liquid.  Alexander’s face was covered by a linen shroud, protecting it.  

          “Hmm… Romeo, undo the latch and open up the coffin,” Michel said.

          “Sir?” Romeo asked in confusion.  “Do you want me to open it?”

          “Yes, please.  And be careful,” Michel replied.  The air trapped inside the glass coffin funneled out like a shaken bottle of soda pop.  There was a stench from inside, but not of death.   It rather resembled the fact that Seven Sacred Oils had been painted onto the body to insure an afterlife.  

          “Ah… Frankincense, Myrrh oil, Sandalwood, Jasmine, Lotus, Cedar, and Mandrake oils it appears,” Michel replied while typing onto his tablet computer.   “And don’t forget traces of the anti-oxidant Honey.”

          The lid was raised up and set off to one side of the room.   The workers placed an Oxygen mask onto the body as they uncovered the linen shroud. 

          “These gases… Oxygen, Nitrogen, Helium! Quickly, place these canisters near the body.  Romeo, grab me a defibrillator from the Hotel’s First Aid kit,” Michel Constantine ordered.

          The workers carefully opened the wrappings around the face, which was encased in rapidly-thawing ice.   A number of emergency hospital equipment devices had been lowered into the tomb.   The hotel’s Doctor ushered inside the sepulcher, and set up a pulse reader, statistics tablet, and an IV drip.   The body’s skin became soft and clammy.   The Doctor lifted both eyelids, and noticed each eyeball was a different color, a sign of Heterochromia.  

          Michel Constantine ordered the workers to obey the Doctor.   The body was active, his head tilting from side to side, his legs moving slightly.  The Defibrillator pumped four times, and the body reacted with a stable pulse.  An Oxygen Mask was placed over his bronzed face and ragged auburn hair.  Two distinctive tattoos had been carved into his skin: one was a Macedonian Starburst; the other was a Ram, the symbol of Amon-Ra of Egypt.  

          The body was heard mumbling in Ancient Greek.  

          “Romeo! Go get our translator clasp.  Make certain it has all Ancient dialects programmed,” Michel Constantine commanded.  Romeo fled the room and up the stainless steel ladder into the hotel lobby.

          Michel inched closer to the body.  Suddenly the body’s right hand darted onto the Director’s throat and clenched his fist on target, while saying something in Macedonian.  Michel struggled to free himself from the grasp.  The Doctor injected the body with a sleep additive into the IV Drip, loosening his grip. 

          Romeo returned in time with an armload of devices.   Michel placed an auto-translator onto the neck of Alexander that worked by hearing anything he said and coughing up a response in English, both visual and audio.  It was attached by a neck clasp made of gilded titanium.   A sub-screen displayed the message, with cellular phone technology.  The clasp was GPS compliant and water/fire resistant.   The device could also give translations into any known language, shine a flashlight strobe in a dark room, display the correct Time, an alcohol breath analyzer, calculator, color holographic camera and attract fish.  

         

          “Romeo, restrain Alexander’s arms as I attempt to awaken him…” Michel said slowly.

          The body was injected with a stimulant and an anti-biotic.  Images came into his mind, contorting his thoughts. 

          “Alexander!” yelled Roxanne, his favorite.  “Alexander, your fever is increasing? Do you need some water?”

          Alexander’s memories came to him in a rush.  Stateira, the daughter of slain Persian leader Darius, reported that Alexander’s fever was not improving.   She suggested he take a cold bath from the tunnels below the Palace.  There only Ahura Mazda would take refuge.  She would show him the secret entrance.  Alexander inched into the cold pool and then the memories faded into the Present Time.  He awoke. 

          “Roxanne? Stateira?” Alexander’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the Mausoleum.   “Where am I?” he asked in Ancient Greek translated into English and Italian.

          “Your Majesty, you are not in Babylon.  Much has changed since your last memories,” Michel Constantine smiled.  

 

          Alexander’s eyes widened.   Fear ravaged his mind.  The surroundings seemed regal, like a tomb or a foreign palace.  “Where is my beloved Roxanne? Where is my armor? My Soldiers!”

          “You are Alexander the son of Philip of Macedon, an Ancient Country…” Michel said.

          “Ancient?” Alexander’s eyes became wild with panic.  “When am I? Is this Hades?”

          “No, this is Earth.  This is 2,400 years after everyone whom you knew died.   You are in the Future.  Your body was found in the stagnant pools below your palace, according to the documentation found nearby…” Michel explained. 

          Alexander crawled to stand.  He backed off until hiding behind a robust Marble pillar.  Looking around he found himself surrounded by modern medical equipment, computers, strange lights and sounds, devices.   He recognized the Caduceus symbol on the jacket of the Doctor.  He next noticed an Eye of Horus, or Wadjet, drawn onto a computer screen.   He pointed at it with a free hand. 

          Alexander realized what had happened.  He was not dead or even glorified.  He was displaced by the Gods.  

          “Zeus, Apollo, Achilles… Why have you forsaken me?” Alexander cried to himself on the floor of the Mausoleum.   He cried for an hour.  The workers meanwhile cleared the Mausoleum of all artifacts.  The items were placed into storage for now.  No mention of this was made in the Press.   The Media only knew that the hotel basement was ‘flooded with repair work being conducted.’ 

          The Italian Ministry of Antiquities was consulted.   This was standard policy.  Alexander was given Naturalized Citizenship for Italy with Dual-Citizenship for his removal to the United States where Billionaire Director Michel Constantine was from. 

          Michel Constantine made his way from American Military Technology companies that he developed and subsequently owns.  He spent his fortune funding Archaeological digs in Europe and Egypt, where he spearheaded the search for the tomb of Alexander the Great at Alexandria.  He couldn’t locate the real tomb.  In Italy there was a rumor about a feature found by GPS in the central districts.   So this led him to the Royal Pisa Hotel.   He brought Alexander to the USA on board a private jet after first showing him Modern Italy and Italian cuisine.  

 


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