Curved staircases hug the outer walls on either side of the entrance, spiraling up to the upper floors. Each level has an open walkway that overlooks the central display, creating a dizzying view straight down to the marble circle below.
Students flow around us, some heading to the stairs, others cutting across the circular floor to reach hallways that branch off like spokes from the central hub. The space echoes with footsteps and voices, the architectural acoustics amplifying every sound.
Phoenix shoulders her way past students as she takes the stairs two at a time. She only seems to take a breath once she slides into a seat at the back of a huge auditorium-like room that is packed with students and faculty alike.
Her cheeks are flushed from the run. Her breathing is elevated. She pulls out a notebook and uncaps a pen with her teeth. There’s an excitement in her eyes I haven’t seen since we arrived at Vlad’s compound.
This is her world. Her passion. Separate from blood oaths and grandfathers.
Only minutes later, a man pulls out his earbuds and walks up to the podium. A camera casts his image onto a large screen behind him. He looks to be in his early to mid-thirties, handsome in that academic way with glasses and a slightly rumpled shirt. His posture is confident.
I glance over at Phoenix. She’s watching the screen with rapt, excited attention. She leans forward slightly in her seat.
“That’s Professor Rossi,” she whispers with warmth in her voice. “He’s at the top of his field and one of the reasons I was so thrilled to study here with him as my advisor.” She rolls her eyes. “Vlad did tempt him here with a huge endowment, but for once, I wasn’t mad about letting his money work for me. Professor Rossi is an absolute genius in the field.”
There’s an odd curdling in my gut as she gushes over this man. The way she says his name bothers me. The light in her eyes when she talks about him makes something dark twist in my chest.
But then she waves at me to shush as Professor Rossi leans over the lectern to speak, even though she’s the one who’s been talking.
“Signs and wonders used to be a regular part of daily life. It’s easy to write off these historical descriptions in the ancienttexts as people without scientific explanations simply describing natural phenomena.”
He clicks through the slides reflected on a screen behind him to show a demonic mask. “So-called ‘demons’ were merely people with schizophrenia. Sudden storms weren’t manifestations of the gods’ anger but simply warmer ocean waters creating weather patterns. Moving tectonic plates caused what seemed like divine wrath.”
He clicks through to another slide that shows how the flow of warmer ocean waters evaporates to become hurricanes. “But while yes, our ancient forefathers might have had only a proto-understanding of certain scientific phenomena, in other ways, their understanding of mathematics was far more advanced than we give them credit for. Their grasp of physics was astonishing.”
“These are the people who built the great pyramids!” The screen flashes with slides showing images of the structures he describes. “The Parthenon!” More images appear before the screen comes back to his face.
The professor speaks with such passion that it’s easy to see why his audience is enrapt.
“They might not have cracked germ theory at the time, for which many in our modern age judge them as barbarians. But they still had an astonishing ability to thrive and invent. They nurtured artistic talent. They created vast civilizations with astounding communication networks.”
Beside me, Phoenix scribbles notes furiously in her notebook. I can see how much this means to her. This world of ideas and discovery feeds something in her that nothing else can.
“Since Freud and Jung, it’s been commonly accepted among the scientifically minded that religions were created as mere manifestations of mankind’s neurosis or shadow selves. Or, to put it in the framework of Marx, religion was merely an opiateof the people. It was meant to keep the masses drugged and unaware of the fact that they were pawns in the machine of the more powerful.
“The thesis I present to you today, however, especially in light of the supposed hoax,” he uses air quotes for the last word, “that we all collectively witnessed with our own eyes this past month, is that some of the signs and wonders our ancient brethren witnessed were real.”
I sit up straighter in my chair and realize that I’m not the only one reacting. Some of the other professors in the room stand up and heckle him for buying into conspiracy theories. Just as many students stand up in his defense.
Finally, Professor Rossi holds his hands up. The shouting dies down. “Is this not a university where we gather to discuss new ideas? New theses?”
Students eagerly nod. Some professors join them. Others stare stonily ahead.
Professor Rossi leans forward and clutches the sides of the lectern as he continues. His voice becomes intimate as he speaks into the microphone. “There were ancient powers that occasionally visited or even inhabited this world for a time during the ancient era. Ladies and gentlemen, I am suggesting that ancient man did not invent the gods but merely documented their presence among us with papyrus and ink. Just like we’re doing now, capturing video on our phones of the phenomena we’re witnessing as these unknown beings visit again.”
This time, when the crowd erupts, there is no bringing back order. Factions shout and argue all around the room. Professor Rossi has to be shuffled off the stage.
“Come on,” Phoenix whispers excitedly.
Her hand wraps around my forearm and pulls me toward an exit off to the side, away from the chaos. Her touch burns through my shirt sleeve. Her eyes are bright with excitement.
“I want you to meet him.”
I frown as I follow her. Her hand is still on my arm, guiding me through the crowd.
I can’t think of anything I want less.
SIXTEEN
