“What’s the matter?” asked the President again.
James put out his arm and showed the palm of his hand to all those present without uttering a word. They all got up together to form a circle around him. The computer technician took a snapshot of the scar and displayed it on the main screen in the room.
“Mr. Oldrich, what does it mean?”
James didn’t reply.
“Why are you showing us that tattoo? What are you trying to say?” asked the Secretary.
Despite Richard elbowing him in the ribs, James remained silent.
“Mr. Oldrich, if you would do us the honor of answering our questions.”
“I think that it represent a Mayan number,” he said firmly. “When I stole the Trifariam from the laboratories, part of it heated up and inflicted a kind of scar on my hand. It was an unpleasant sensation, like a force field was blocking all my muscles and I couldn’t shake it off. When the heat faded, I had the marking on my hand.”
The Director of the CIA stood up, enraged. “Mr. Oldrich, what made you think that you should hide such an ‘insignificant’ detail from us? Do you realize that you have held up the investigation?”
The Secretary tried to calm him down. Now was not the time to cause a scene. “Calm down, Mr. Cheney. I’m sure that if Mr. Oldrich had really thought it was something important, he would have told us immediately. So, tell us more about these Mayan numbers.”
James remained silent, thoughtful, it seemed like he hadn’t been listening.
Richard stepped in before things got heated again. “If you will allow me, Mr. Secretary, I can explain it to you.”
“Very well. Tell us.”
“Just like other Mesoamerican civilizations, the Mayans used the vigesimal numeral system or, to put it another way, base-twenty. They didn’t use it for mathematical calculations, but for measuring time. They only used three symbols: a kind of shell to represent zero, one dot for the units and a line to represent groups of five units.” Richard took a deep breath. It would be better to explain it visually. “Does this computer have an internet connection?”
The technician nodded.
Richard opened a webpage and typed in an address. He then showed them an image.
“Here you can see the first nineteen numbers, including zero. It is important to remember that the Mayans represented large numbers as powers of twenty, some below others as levels. You always begin by filling in the lower levels, so when a level reaches twenty units, you have to add an extra unit to the level immediately above it. For example, imagine the number 8131. It would look something like this.”
Richard moved the cursor onto a link which read: EXAMPLE 3: NUMBER 8131 and double-clicked on it. He didn’t need to explain a thing; they understood it perfectly.
8131 = (8000x1) + (400x0) + (20x6) + (1x11)
The President looked up at the scar James had on the palm of his hand. “So according to you, the number on Mr. Oldrich’s hand is - “
“149!” cried James. “And not only that. For the Mayans, the first day of the year was 26 July, so Day 149 would correspond to our 21 December, the day of the Apocalypse. I’m almost certain that the number refers to step 149 on the pyramid, which would be number 58 on the second face.”
Before the President could give the order, all the team at the Yucatan Peninsula got to work. They would immediately scan the area described by Mr. Oldrich.
“Sir,” interrupted the technician politely. “The numeral system Mr. Matheson is talking about is very similar to the binary system used by computers today.”
“What do you mean? Tell us more.”
“Binary is a numeral system in which the numbers are represented by group of ones and zeros. For example, the numbers zero to seven would be 000, 001, 010, 011, 100, 101, 110, 111.”
While the computer technician was giving them a more concise example, James thought about what he said. He understood exactly where he was coming from. It was incredible to think that a civilization which existed two thousand years ago could have designed a numerical system so similar to the binary system used by computers.”
“Imagine the binary number 1010001. It would correspond to our number 81 because 1x26 + 0x25 + 1x24 + 0x23 + 0x22 + 0x21 + 1x20 = 64 + 0 + 16 + 0 + 0 + 0 + 1 = 81.”
The Secretary of Defense was amazed. “How is that possible?! And the Mayans had such a perfect numeral system?!”
Richard didn’t even answer that question. Everybody had heard them talk at great length about what Mayan culture had achieved. He didn’t understand why he was so surprised.
The President began to speak, this time more decisively. “Mr. Lephant, can you hear me?”
The monitor was showing the image of the Pyramid of Kukulkan, but there was no sign of Mark Lephant.
“Mr. Lephant, are you there?”
“Mr. President.” A faltering yet excited voice eventually filtered through the speakers. “I’m here.”
“Sweep the following area of steps immediately - from 55 to - “
“We’re on it, sir. We’ve just received the first pieces of information. You’re not going to believe it.”
All the officials turned to face the monitor. They were waiting for a reply.
“What’s going on?”
“According to the scanner, there is something about two feet inside the stone itself. It is circular and small in size. The density study shows that it is inside something larger which is rectangular in shape and less hard than the rock, but more dense. It could be a metal box.”
“Get it out of there immediately!”
“But sir, we’ll have to destroy the monument. The Mexican people - “
“Didn’t you hear my orders?! Get it out of there right now, even if you have to tear down the whole pyramid! That’s an order!”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Chapter 88
It had already been thirty minutes since the scanner detected the presence of a circular object beneath one of the steps of the Pyramid of Kukulkan. The scientific team, headed by Mark Lephant, used a special drill to destroy the steps without the underlying structure being damaged any more than necessary. Thanks to the fantastic job done by the Army, there were no tourists around to get in the way of the mission. However, they had to work quickly because they were aware that the Mexican police had been alerted of their illegal occupation of the ruins on the Yucatan Peninsula.
The tension in the Area 51 meeting room was increasing. They all carefully monitored the measures taken by the team. Some of them even had to close their eyes when the huge drill began to pierce one of the steps, breaking it into a thousand pieces.
One of the helicopters had just landed at the foot of the pyramid. The Air Force had warned the Army of the presence of several police cars who were approaching at high speed.
The infernal racket produced by the drill as it bore through the stone stopped just as another helicopter landed. The cameras showed a circular hole around three feet in diameter, into which Lephant had already ventured to insert half his body. Even though the images didn’t show what was going on inside, James had a feeling that the archaeologist was digging with his bare hands to take out what he had found. He was right.
After more than five minutes of uncertainty, Lephant emerged from the hole with a golden box in his hands. It was circular and had a diameter of less than eight inches. It seemed to be made of gold.
When he opened it, the camera zoomed in on the object inside. Everybody smiled except for James, who had a bad feeling and couldn’t stop himself from warning him not to touch the object inside, but it was too late. When the archaeologist’s dusty fingers came into contact with the object, his body tensed, his pupils dilated to fill the whole of his eyes and became gray, his chest puffed up slightly as if his heart wanted to jump out and, eventually, he fell catatonic to the ground. He had suffered a cerebral infarction.
Two minutes later, the Area 51 scientist’s cellphone began to vibrate among the din which
had filled the room when they saw the archaeologist slump over on their screens.
The President was aghast.
“Mr. President,” interrupted the scientist. “When Lephant touched the piece, it activated some kind of internal mechanism in the Trifariam. Something incredible has happened in the laboratories.”
“What is it?!” cried the Secretary.
The scientist quickly stood up, what his colleagues had told him had left him puzzled. It was impossible. “It’s the Devil’s Eye,” he eventually replied.
“It can’t be!” shouted the astronomer. “Are you sure?!”
The President was starting to get impatient. “The Devil’s Eye? What the hell is that?”
The scientist remained silent and it was up to the astronomer to clarify matters.
“The Devil’s Eye was the name originally given to black holes.”
The President got up from his seat, looking for one of those present to confirm this information with a look. “Are you telling me that this object created a black hole in one of our laboratories?”
“More or less, sir. According to our scientists, something far away from the site unleashed the process. Thank god that the hole was forming and still very small. It remained open for less than two seconds, then it vanished.”
“So that object is a black hole generator!”
“Impossible!” cried the astronomer. “A black hole is very complex. It’s crazy to think that it can form at the touch of a button. A black hole is a finite region of spacetime where an enormous concentration of high-density mass has been produced, forming a gravitational field from which nobody or nothing can escape. How could a machine achieve such a feat?”
The President frowned.
The scientist tried to explain it better so that they would comprehend just how difficult it would be to carry out such a groundbreaking task. “The formation of a black hole starts with the death of a red giant, a star with a mass nine times that of the sun. It starts to accumulate an enormous concentration of mass in a very small radius due to its own gravitational pull, eventually turning into a white dwarf. When the star’s escape velocity is greater than the speed of light, where the escape velocity is the minimum speed needed for anything to escape from its gravitational pull, then the star will begin to absorb its own light and everything around it, thus becoming a black hole. It is worth mentioning that light doesn’t have sufficient speed to escape from the gravitational pull of a black hole once it is within the event horizon. What do you think happens to an object when light cannot be reflected from it?”
“It becomes invisible to the human eye.”
“Exactly.”
“The event horizon” clarified the astronomer, “is the area around black hole from which there is no way of escaping its pull.”
“Just a minute. You said that a black hole has a gravitational pull so strong that nothing can escape from it, not even light, right?”
The astronomer and the scientist cocked their heads to one side.
The Secretary of Defense frowned, he could guess what the Presidents’ intentions were.
“If that machine is a black hole generator… could it be positioned at a safe enough distance so as to enable us to create a black hole to protect us from the solar storm and asteroids?”
A mass of converging opinions suddenly erupted. The most conservative voted for being cautious and not using an unknown tool that they still didn’t know how to control; meanwhile, others vehemently supported the President’s idea.
“Sir,” replied the scientist. “We don’t know the true potential of the Trifariam. What if we create a black hole which ends up sucking in the whole solar system? And even if it were feasible and we discover how to use it, we couldn’t create a black hole without knowing for sure that we will be able to deactivate it at will.”
“Could it work?” asked the President again.
The scientist stroked his chin while those present remained in silence, waiting for an answer. “Yes, in theory. But even if we know how it works, it wouldn’t give us enough time to intercept both threats. The only chance we have is to eliminate them simultaneously by creating a black hole in a zone near to the point they should meet. However, our studies show that area to be very close to Earth. If we create a black hole in that location, we will be within the event horizon and we will be sucked into it at terrifying speed. Seeing as we don’t have time to defend ourselves against both, and unless we manage to find out how the Trifariam works in record time, I suggest we use it against the asteroids. The solar storm will set back our progress, but at least it won’t kill us.”
“I agree,” chimed in the Secretary.
“We have to implement a plan of action immediately. We must study the mechanism in that machine, understand how it functions so as to use it without putting the planet at risk. We will send it on a manned mission to Mars, in order to meet with the asteroids and they will activate it up there. We can’t prevent the solar storm from devastating Earth, but when it reaches the black hole it will be absorbed.”
“Have we got the technology to reach that location in so little time?”
Some of those present turned to look at the Administrator of NASA, the highest rank a man could have within the agency and whose role is to counsel the President on all space matters. He didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Yes, sir. We have spent three years working alongside Area 51 on a top-secret aerospace project. We could reach the point indicated in several days.”
The President stood up again from his chair. For the first time that day, he looked at those present with a hopeful expression. “In light of what has happened, the Trifariam is not safe to remain in Area 51. Take it to NASA immediately, along with its last piece and all the scientific team who has been studying it. I want the most brilliant scientists from both organizations to cooperate and work out how the hell it works. Mr. Oldrich and Mr. Matheson will accompany them….”
“But my daughter…”
“Mr. Oldrich, I understand your position but are you aware that the planet as we know it could come to an end? If we don’t do anything, everybody will die, including your daughter.”
“Yes, but at least…”
“What?!”
“At least let me take her with me to NASA.”
The President breathed deeply and although he didn’t like the idea, he nodded his head. “Okay, but go now.”
Chapter 89
Over sixty miles away, in a small town near Las Vegas and beneath the debris of a recently demolished house, a huge bunker hid sophisticated telecommunications equipment out of place for such a small town. There were no more than five people in the main room, counting the woman with brown hair who hadn’t stopped crying since her father was confirmed dead. Now she was in charge.
The room was split into several sections, all of them related to communications and espionage. Several GPS receivers showed different planetary locations on a huge screen which dominated the room, and another two monitors showed real time images beamed from the Yucatan Peninsula and Area 51 via satellite. On the first one, the U.S. Army had already left the Peninsula and it was the Mexican police who were examining the damage they had caused to the pyramid. From the expressions on their faces, they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Meanwhile, activity was stirring inside the site in the state of Nevada. All the hangars were opening up.
At one of the individual computers was a thin man of average height, wearing a pair of designer glasses and with unkempt hair. He had a pair of headphones glued to his ears and looked like a poor version of a DJ at some cheap resort. “Miss Ranley, I think they are leaving,” he announced.
Mary nodded, also wearing a pair of headphones herself. Her eyes were tearful and full of anger. Her hands were before delicate and soft, but now they were covered with bruises and deep wounds which had stopped bleeding, traces of her encounter with one of the walls after finding out the tragic news. “Have you filmed the meeting?”<
br />
“Yes, your… your father had cleverly fitted hidden microphones throughout the room. As you have seen, the signal can be heard perfectly.”
Although her feelings of rage were growing by the second, they didn’t stop her from thinking clearly.
“Miss Ranley,” chipped in another member of the team. “Dozens of planes are leaving the hangars. The scientific team is starting to be evacuated together with all their little toys.”
Mary nodded after receiving the information. “In view of the imminent change of plan, all the microphones installed in Area 51 will no longer be useful. Deactivate them! We can’t leave any trace.”
A few seconds later and over sixty miles away, a tiny object located in an alcove under the meeting table stopped emitting its characteristic intermittent red light, followed by the other two dozen or so microphones installed around the whole site.
“What are we going to do with the Trifariam?”
The woman sighed and banged her fist against the table. Her anger left no room for pain. Unlike how she felt at first, she no longer wanted to kill James. She wanted to see him suffer and she knew how to do it. “All in good time. For now, we have to get revenge.”
Chapter 90
The National Aeronautics and Space Administration, more commonly known as NASA, is the governmental agency in charge of aerospace programs in the United States. It was created under the leadership of President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1958, in response to the launch of Sputnik by the Soviet Union the year before. Its purpose was to provide answers to several basic questions. What is in space? How do we get there? What will we find? Are we alone in the universe? What can we learn from everything that has happened before to make life on Earth more pleasant?
NASA achieved its defining moment when it managed to put man on the Moon after the so-called Space Race, an unofficial competition between the United States and Soviet Union to be the first ones to set foot on our satellite. Something that has recently been called into question because many believe that the whole thing was a sham created by the U.S. Government.
Trifariam, The Lost Codex (2012) Page 50
