Ark (25 page)

“There’s no secret about the plans, Gene. They’re in every Bible. Given the right materials anyone could build it.”

“Jim,” whispered Gene, turning his head away from the wall TV camera, “John’s Dad thinks it’s a weapon. You read the Bible, so you know it WAS a weapon in the hands of Israel. Our work may hold the key.”

“I guess it’s all in how you look at it.” Jim was reminded of a question he’d wanted to ask Gene. “Let me ask you, Gene,” he said cautiously. “That day you were watching Aaron building the ark. What happened to you? You were really freaked and didn’t even want to go back into the room where Aaron was working. I know it was more than the hammering that bothered you.”

“Yeah,” said Gene. “It went right through me.”

Jim wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “It was weird for everyone. Aaron was in a rapture. Marta was too. Everyone was so distracted that they didn’t hear the music that was playing in the workshop. Aaron never told me what it was. I assume it was some new age music.”

“There was no music in Aaron’s studio, Jim,” said Gene. “I’m sure of it.”

“Well, I heard it,” Jim argued. “I just think that Aaron’s work distracted everyone.”

“There are no speakers in that section of the facility. There’s lights and phones, but no public address or intercom.”

“But I heard it clearly!”

Gene shook his head. “I guess we all had a weird experience. You heard music. Aaron went into a trance and I saw ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” said Jim in surprise. “You never said.”

“Of course not,” said Gene. “I don’t want everyone to think I’m crazy, but while Aaron was working I saw strange reflections on the gold. They were just reflections, I know, but they spooked me. They looked like skulls. I don’t know. Then there was the smoke from the torch that Marta used to heat the metal.”

“Smoke? The flame was smokeless, as far as I could see,” said Jim.

“Every so often I’d see some wisps of white smoke swirling around the ark.”

Jim remembered that while they were watching Aaron work the gold a crew was videotaping. “Maybe we could check the tape to see if it recorded anything unusual?”

Gene shook his head. “You won’t ever see the tape, Jim, and if you did it wouldn’t show a thing. Besides, what would it tell us?”

“Well, I, for one, would like to know if there was music playing.”

“So talk to the General,” said Gene, getting up to turn off the TV. “I’m hungry.”

Jim didn’t press the issue. He knew that he’d gotten about all he could from Gene, and he’d heard enough to indicate that something was going on that was perhaps bordering on the paranormal. To press the issue would be asking for trouble.

No one objected to their walking around Los Alamos. There was a bus service, so they ate dinner at cafeteria called Ned’s, at the edge of town. Gene seemed relieved that he’d confessed his own peculiar experience watching Aaron work the angels for the ark. His mood brightened considerably.

Gene did most of the talking. On the way over to the restaurant he’d spotted the yellow flowers of an acacia bush, and he’d noticed that there were many of them growing around Los Alamos. “That’s the same stuff as the acacia used in the ark. I read that the women of the Middle East enjoy cooking with acacia. It’s very aromatic and the smoke perfumes their clothes.”

“They call it shittim wood, right?” asked Jim.

“Indeed. It’s a highly prized item; forty percent tannin, used to make a red dye. Excellent firewood, burns hot and long. I told you that it smells good. Did I mention they make an edible gum from it that is supposed to cure a number of things from rheumatism to impotence?”

“No, you didn’t,” Jim was enjoying Gene’s lecture and urged him on with a word. “Interesting.”

“The only problem with the stuff is that it is susceptible to insect damage. I read that a few Egyptian sarcophagi were made of shittim.”

“If the wood didn’t last, then wouldn’t the ark have decomposed by now?” asked Jim. “I mean, is there any real hope of finding the original?”

“With the wood gilded I don’t see how it would degrade,” said Gene. “It’s a good strong wood, tightly grained. I think the ark could easily exist intact. I surfed the web a while ago and downloaded well over 150 references to the ark. Interesting how everyone has a particular agenda that they work it into.”

“How so?”

Gene casually glanced around the cafeteria to see if anyone was paying attention. The place had very few patrons. It was late in the evening, well past dinnertime. Gene obviously felt secure that they weren’t being overheard. He looked back at Jim and continued. “I read one treatment suggesting that the ark was Jesus. Another saw it as a metaphor for God’s presence among men. There were dozens. I can’t remember them all.”

Jim had done research too. “Back when this thing was getting started I felt like I had to do something about this obsession with the ark. So I wrote down my story.”

Gene smiled. “Jim the writer. I like that. I’ll bet you could write.”

“Naw,” said Jim. “I know writers. A miserable bunch of SOB’s living a miserable life. Nope, if I ever decide to write it will be for the hell of it.”

“You don’t want to be a famous author?”

“I’ve gotten gold awards in design competitions. I make a decent living with my freelance practice. I even own my home. In my game that’s saying a lot. I’m not after fame,” said Jim wistfully. “Not all it’s cracked up to be. Fame can quickly become infamy.”

“Can I quote you to John?” asked Gene with a chuckle.

“I don’t think he’d agree. Fame or infamy, I doubt it would matter to him.”

They both laughed.

The night closed in quickly. When they decided to leave Ned’s Cafeteria the owner was already closing up. They were reminded of the holiday. “Jeez, it’s Sunday,” said Jim to the man as he wiped the counters. “Why stay open today at all?”

“Lots of people here depend on me for dinner,” said the man, a sandy haired rail of an old man in a dingy white apron. “A lot of these scientists and their families live odd hours. I can’t just close up on ’em any time I want to.”

The man asked them where they were from. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

When they told him they hailed from Philadelphia and New York the man smiled. “You’ll be back to stay one day. Maybe not here, but you’ll be back. The West has that effect on folks.”

“Beautiful scenery,” said Jim.

“God’s own,” said the man.

#

By the next morning everything was assembled in the cavern.

John and his father had invited them for breakfast. Now they sat with Gene and Jim in the tram as it labored down the tunnel.

The place reminded Jim again of a movie set ready for the director to call for action.

Everyone watched the General and his party as they climbed out of the car and stood near it surveying the scene. A small group of men came toward them. Gene recognized Lieutenant Irwin Bush and waved. Then he noticed who was with him. “Earl! Mr. Megabyte himself,” he shouted. “I heard you were here.”

“Yo, Gene, fellow member of the Walking Dead!” shouted Earl. “Yeah. I’ve been running your simulation.”

As usual, Earl hit the ground running with the conversation. He ignored Jim and nodded to the General, then he continued with his rant. “I sign a blood oath just to see your freakin’ program run and that’s it? You call that a simulation?”

Gene looked at the General. He smiled back, listening with interest.

“Well, a big kiss back’atcha,” said Gene. “Now will you give me that in English?”

“I don’t buy your simulation.”

Jim was surprised at the interaction between Gene and Mr. Megabyte. He’d expected a buddy-buddy reaction , not two guys swinging verbal punches.

“You don’t buy the simulation,” repeated John. “Care to tell us why?”

“Too many variables. Hell, I looked into this thing. Nobody even knows what a cubit was.”

Earl looked at the Tabernacle in the distance. It now looked like a giant made-up bed. The golden boards were no longer visible. Following the exact instructions in Exodus 25, the Tabernacle of the Ark had been covered by four layers of tenting.

The thick outer covering was made of sealskin. Under that was a layer of ram’s skin that was dyed bright red. Why it was dyed was anyone’s guess. The next layer was made of gray goat’s hair, probably because of its exceptional insulating properties. Under that was the final layer of tenting, a skillfully woven linen tapestry with broad blocks of blue, purple and scarlet decorated with white silhouettes of winged cherubim.

The various layers were only visible where the tenting was pulled back to reveal the entrance to the Tabernacle. It, too, was decorated like the linen inner covering. From where they stood no gold was in evidence.

Earl scratched his unkempt hair while he considered his criticism. “I just don’t see how you can be sure of your specs. Without precise measurements your science is for shit.”

General Wilcox smiled and looked at Gene. He seemed to be expecting a powerful rebuttal.

“I wish you’d have been more vocal before now,” answered Gene.

The General’s face fell like a rock. Gene noticed and quickly picked up the ball. “Hell, it doesn’t matter,” he continued. “We’ve been over the variable thousands of times, taken measurements and consulted experts. Our final size of 31.5 by 52.5 inches is consistent with the 21 inch Egyptian cubit. We have tools – Egyptian tools – found in tombs of the period. I’d say our accuracy is to within a quarter inch.”

The General seemed happy with Gene’s response. He looked at Mr. Megabyte. “Any more problems from your vantage point, Earl?”

“Sorry to be a nay-sayer, General,” said Earl, “but you can research this yourself. Every source I’ve found gives a different size for the ark, but they all agree on one thing.”

“What would that be?”

“That nobody has a clue what this thing looked like.”

Gene was unflapped. “The simulation worked. In my view that shows beyond a reasonable doubt that our measurements were right.”

General Wilcox took a step back and faced the entire group. “I’ve listened to enough. You can argue this forever but what we have spread out behind me is our best guess as to what it looked like.” He turned to address Earl specifically. “I want everyone to feel free to have their opinions and to express them, but from this point on, I want you to stick to crunching numbers with the techies. I want only positive thoughts in this cavern. Is that understood, Earl?”

Earl nodded. Satisfied that he’d made his point the General turned his back on everyone and stared at the Tabernacle. “Today we put the ark in the Holy of Holies.”

Everyone knew what that meant. In the Bible it was the final act before God’s cloud descended on the Tabernacle and the ‘glory of God’ was upon the ark.

“When do we do it?” asked Jim.

The General pointed to a group of men in the distance. “It’s up to them.”

Jim had noticed them before, a group of middle aged men with red hair. They had been around the project from the beginning. Now they were gathered in a group, attending a large bronze altar that stood some distance from the mouth of the Tabernacle.

“Looks like we’re having a barbecue,” said John Wilcox. “They would be the Levites you hired. Right, Dad?”

The General scowled at John. “Don’t get cute, son.”

He turned to the group again. “When the camera crew gets here, I’ll brief you on today’s plans.”

Almost on cue a group of people emerged from Aaron’s studio, carrying lights and cameras. Jim recognized Aaron and Marta in the front of the group. Behind them were their assistants. It took them a while to arrange themselves in a semicircle around the General. While the film crew set up their gear, other workers and the Levites joined the gathering.

Soon everyone involved with the operation was there. A man who seemed to be in charge of the film crew pointed to the General, who held up his hands for quiet. A hush fell over the cavern.

“What will happen here today will be a devout religious ceremony,” said the General into a microphone. “Maybe that’s a surprise to some of you, but we feel that it’s important to treat our subject with respect. I want everyone present to think clean, respectable thoughts and to pay close attention to what goes on. The red haired gentlemen are members of the Levite clan. They are here because they are the descendants of Moses’ family. They were the priests who attended to the ark. It took a whole family of them; hundreds, I guess, to handle this thing. The Bible says that only they could be the attendants of the temple, but since we are not going to be toting this whole circus around the desert for forty years, we don’t need so many.”

Jim looked at the Levites. Like everyone else, they listened without comment. Jim had the impression that everyone on hand knew his job and was ready to do it.

“These gentlemen come to us from various branches of the military, and they are here voluntarily to follow the directions of Rabbi Herschel Levi.”

One of the Levite group waved a hand. He was older than the rest and wore the dark clothing, long hair and beard of an orthodox Hebrew. Jim wondered if he would be assigned the role of High Priest should God appear over the ark.

The General continued his speech. “All of you are witnesses to what happens here today. Because of the sensitive nature of Thunderbolt, everyone present is under a solemn obligation to maintain secrecy, no matter what happens. That means today and in the future.

“We’re flying blind here. Attempting something never done before, to our knowledge. So I wanted to take a moment to orient you all to our purpose and expectations one more time before we go into the breach, so to speak.

“Rabbi Levi will do a brief service including a burnt offering. We also have a Catholic archbishop who is supposed to be with us but hasn’t arrived yet. When he arrives he can attend to the needs of the Christian viewpoint.

“What we will do today is very simple. We’ll place the Ark of the Covenant in its Tabernacle.

“All the hard work is done. The Tabernacle and all its furniture and coverings have been reproduced as faithfully as is humanly possible. For authenticity, we lack only the location, and for obvious reasons we couldn’t fly everything to the Sinai Desert.