First Flow - Ancient Egypt (1334 BCE)

  Heat. Overwhelming, oppressive heat was the first sensation that filtered through Elias's returning consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy, crusted with sand and salt from dried sweat. Every breath drew in air so hot it seemed to scorch his lungs. For several disorienting moments, he couldn't remember where he was or how he had gotten there.

  Memory returned in fragmented fshes: the facility attack, the prototype's activation, the blinding light that had engulfed them, the sensation of falling through impossible space. None of it expined the heat or the gritty texture beneath his fingertips.

  With considerable effort, Elias forced his eyes open, immediately squinting against the brilliant sunlight that assaulted his vision. Gradually, the blinding whiteness resolved into a clear blue sky utterly unlike Scotnd's perpetual cloud cover. He blinked several times, his synesthesia transting the intensity of light into pulsing yellows and oranges behind his eyelids.

  When he finally managed to push himself up on his elbows, the sight before him sent a jolt of shock through his system, instantly clearing the fog from his mind.

  In the near distance, perhaps a mile away, stood three massive pyramids—but not the weathered, time-worn structures familiar from photographs and documentaries. These gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, their surfaces covered with smooth, polished white limestone that reflected the sun like massive mirrors. The rgest still had scaffolding along one face, suggesting ongoing construction or maintenance.

  "Impossible," Elias whispered, his academic mind racing to process what he was seeing.

  The containment case with the manuscript y beside him, partially buried in sand. He reached for it instinctively, checking that it remained sealed and intact. Only then did he remember he hadn't been alone.

  "Marcus!"

  Elias scrambled to his feet, fighting a wave of dizziness as he scanned the surrounding area. They appeared to be on a low rise of sand and rock overlooking what could only be ancient Giza, the Nile visible as a blue-green ribbon in the middle distance. And there, about twenty feet away, a dark figure y motionless on the sand.

  Elias rushed over, half-stumbling in the loose sand. Marcus y on his side, his tactical uniform incongruously modern against the ancient ndscape. One hand still gripped his sidearm, fingers locked around it even in unconsciousness.

  "Marcus," Elias called, kneeling beside him. "Marcus, wake up!"

  He reached out hesitantly, then more firmly shook the captain's shoulder. When that produced no response, he pressed two fingers to Marcus's neck, relieved to find a strong, steady pulse.

  "Come on," Elias muttered, unsure what to do. His expertise extended to ancient nguages and symbols, not medical emergencies. After a moment's hesitation, he untied his own shirt sleeves from around his waist—when had he removed his Oxford button-down?—and used one to wipe the worst of the sand from Marcus's face, noting with concern how hot his skin felt.

  "Water," he realized aloud. "We need water."

  He gnced around desperately, but their immediate surroundings offered nothing but sand and scattered rocks. The Nile was visible but dauntingly distant, especially with an unconscious man to transport.

  As Elias contempted his limited options, Marcus stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. His eyelids fluttered, then squeezed tightly shut against the bright sunlight.

  "Marcus?" Elias leaned closer. "Can you hear me?"

  Marcus's eyes snapped open, instantly alert in a way Elias found both impressive and slightly unnerving. In one fluid movement, the captain rolled away, bringing his weapon up in a defensive posture as he took in his surroundings with military precision.

  "Elias," he acknowledged, his voice rough. "Status report."

  The formal request might have seemed absurd under the circumstances, but Elias recognized it as Marcus reverting to training in a disorienting situation.

  "We're alive," he began, deciding the most basic facts were best. "Uninjured, as far as I can tell. We have the manuscript." He gestured toward the containment case. "But we're... not in Scotnd anymore."

  Marcus's gaze swept the horizon, taking in the pyramids, the distant river, the unfamiliar ndscape. His expression remained carefully controlled, but Elias could see the tension in his jaw.

  "We've been transported," Marcus concluded, rising to his feet with a grace that belied his recent unconsciousness. "Drugged and moved. How long was I out?"

  Elias shook his head. "I don't know. I just woke up myself, maybe five minutes before you."

  Marcus checked his tactical watch, tapping it when the dispy showed nothing. "Electronics compromised. Could indicate EMP or simir technology." He methodically began checking his equipment, cataloging what remained functional. The sidearm seemed operational, as did his combat knife and some basic items on his utility belt.

  "Marcus," Elias said carefully, "I don't think we've been transported in the conventional sense."

  "Expin," Marcus replied, still scanning the horizon for threats.

  Elias gestured toward the gleaming pyramids. "Those are the Pyramids of Giza, but not as they exist in our time. The white limestone casing stones were stripped away centuries ago, used to build parts of Cairo. What we're seeing is how they looked when newly constructed."

  Marcus gnced at the structures, then back at Elias. "Eborate hologram. Possibly VR technology combined with environmental simution."

  "To what end?" Elias challenged. "And why bring the manuscript with us?" He took a deep breath. "Marcus, I think the prototype worked. Not as an observation device, but as an actual temporal dispcement mechanism. We've been sent into the past."

  Marcus's expression hardened. "That's not possible."

  "Neither is building a machine to observe the past, but that's exactly what Perseus was attempting," Elias pointed out. "The manuscript warned about observers becoming trapped in the loop. I think that's what's happened to us."

  "Hallucination is more likely," Marcus countered. "A side effect of whatever they used to subdue us. Or programmed VR designed to extract information." He pointed to the containment case. "They want the manuscript's secrets, and this could be an eborate method to make you interpret it for them."

  Before Elias could argue further, movement in the valley below caught their attention. A procession had emerged from among the buildings clustered near the rgest pyramid—a formal group moving with ceremonial precision. Even at a distance, the ornate headdresses and formal garments were unmistakably Egyptian, accompanied by guards carrying spears and shields.

  "Stay down," Marcus ordered, pulling Elias into a crouching position behind a rge rock. "Hostiles approaching."

  "They're not hostiles," Elias whispered excitedly. "They're ancient Egyptian priests and guards. Look at the procession formation—it's consistent with New Kingdom ceremonial practices. If I had to guess, based on the pyramid construction stage, we're witnessing the reign of Akhenaten, around 1334 BCE."

  Marcus shot him a look that clearly questioned his sanity. "Those are people in costumes, part of whatever scenario they've constructed."

  "Then let's test it," Elias suggested. "If this is a simution designed to extract information from us, they'll need to interact with us at some point."

  The procession was now passing almost directly below their position, close enough that Elias could distinguish individual faces and details of the eborate ceremonial garments. The priests walked with measured steps, their shaved heads gleaming in the sunlight, while the guards maintained a vigint perimeter around what appeared to be a shrine carried on poles.

  "I'm going down there," Elias decided, rising from their hiding pce.

  Marcus grabbed his arm. "Negative. We maintain position until we assess the situation."

  "That's what I'm trying to do," Elias insisted, pulling free. "If this is real—if we've actually traveled through time—those people won't be able to see or hear us. The manuscript described observers as imperceptible to those in the past."

  "And if you're wrong?" Marcus demanded. "If this is an eborate setup, you're walking straight into their hands."

  Elias hesitated, then reached for a small rock. "Compromise. We test from here first." He tossed the rock toward the procession, aiming to nd it near but not directly hitting anyone.

  The stone bounced along the ground, stirring up small puffs of dust as it rolled to a stop directly in the path of the lead priest. Elias and Marcus watched intently as the procession continued forward—and the priest walked straight through the stone as if it weren't there.

  "That's impossible," Marcus muttered, his certainty visibly shaken.

  "Unless we're not fully present in this time," Elias expined, excitement building in his voice. "We can see and hear them, but we exist on a different... frequency, for ck of a better term. We're observers, just as the prototype was designed to create."

  Marcus remained skeptical. "Could be advanced holographic projection. There are cssified technologies that can create very convincing illusions."

  "Then we need more proof," Elias said.

  Before Marcus could stop him, he scrambled down the slope toward the procession, moving directly into their path. He waved his arms overhead, calling out in both English and his limited Egyptian Arabic. None of the procession members showed the slightest reaction—not even a flicker of awareness that someone was blocking their path and shouting.

  "Elias!" Marcus hissed, but it was too te. The lead priest had reached the point where Elias stood.

  What happened next shattered any remaining doubt. The priest walked directly through Elias, passing through his body as if he were completely incorporeal. Elias gasped, a cold shiver running through him despite the desert heat. He could feel a strange tingling sensation where the man had passed through him, but otherwise remained solid and whole.

  Marcus stared, his composed expression finally giving way to shock. After a moment, he seemed to reach a decision. Raising his sidearm, he fired a single shot into the air—a sharp crack that echoed across the ndscape.

  Not one member of the procession reacted. No startled jumps, no searching for the source of the noise, not even a pause in their measured stride. They continued their ceremonial march, utterly oblivious to both Elias's presence and the gunshot.

  Slowly, Elias made his way back up the slope to where Marcus stood, his weapon now lowered, expression troubled.

  "Do you believe me now?" Elias asked quietly.

  Marcus holstered his sidearm with mechanical precision. "I believe something unprecedented is happening," he conceded. "Whether it's actual time travel or advanced technology beyond my clearance level remains to be determined."

  "Marcus," Elias said, gesturing expansively to the ancient ndscape around them, "we're standing in ancient Egypt. The only technology involved is the prototype that sent us here—exactly as the manuscript warned might happen."

  For a long moment, Marcus was silent, his tactical mind visibly working through the implications of what he'd witnessed. Finally, he nodded, a single, terse acknowledgment.

  "Assuming you're correct," he said, his voice carefully measured, "our priority is returning to our proper time period. The prototype was activated under emergency conditions. The facility was under attack. If we've been dispced, others might be as well."

  "Yes, absolutely," Elias agreed quickly, then couldn't help adding, "But while we're here, we have an unprecedented opportunity. No one in history has ever witnessed ancient Egyptian civilization firsthand like this. The academic value is incalcuble."

  Marcus's expression hardened. "This isn't a research expedition, Dr. Chen. It's a survival situation in unknown territory with unknown rules. Our only objective should be finding a way back."

  "But the manuscript might require us to understand where—when—we are," Elias argued, retrieving the containment case from where he'd left it. "Remember what I said just before everything went dark? The manuscript isn't just a warning—it's a guide. The authors experienced the loop themselves. They may have encoded instructions for navigating it and returning home."

  "All the more reason to focus exclusively on transting the relevant sections," Marcus countered. "Not pying tourist in ancient Egypt."

  "It's not pying tourist," Elias insisted, his academic passion overriding his usual restraint. "It's gathering crucial contextual information. Temporal locations may be significant. The manuscript mentioned 'echo points'—moments of historical significance. We need to understand what makes this particur time important."

  "More important than finding our way home?" Marcus challenged.

  "They're the same objective," Elias said firmly. "Understanding where we are may be essential to determining how to leave. The manuscript describes the loop as a cycle between echo points. If we're going to navigate it successfully, we need to understand the pattern."

  The argument hung between them, highlighting their fundamentally different approaches to the situation—Marcus with his pragmatic focus on immediate survival and return, Elias with his schor's belief that understanding was the path to solution.

  Finally, Marcus exhaled sharply. "We need shelter, water, and a secure location to assess our situation properly. Exposed on this hillside, we're vulnerable and rapidly approaching heat exhaustion." He gnced at the sun, estimating its position. "We have perhaps four hours of daylight remaining. Our first priority is finding suitable shelter where you can examine the manuscript safely."

  It wasn't agreement with Elias's perspective, but it was a practical compromise. Elias nodded, securing the containment case against his chest.

  "There should be caves in the limestone cliffs to the east," he suggested, indicating the rocky formations beyond the pyramids. "Ancient Egyptians often used them for tombs, but many remained unoccupied. They would provide natural cooling and protection."

  Marcus assessed the suggested direction, then nodded curtly. "We move east, then. Stay close, conserve energy, and maintain awareness of your surroundings." He hesitated, then added, "And Elias? If we truly are in ancient Egypt, remember that just because they can't see us doesn't mean we're invulnerable. We don't know the rules of this... dispcement. Caution is our watchword until we understand our situation better."

  "Agreed," Elias said, suddenly sobered by the reminder of how utterly unprecedented their situation was.

  As they began their careful descent toward the valley floor, Elias couldn't help looking back at the gleaming pyramids, their perfect white surfaces reflecting the te afternoon sun. Whatever dangers they faced, whatever unknown rules governed their dispcement, he was walking through living history—witnessing what no modern human had ever seen.

  "Focus, Dr. Chen," Marcus called from ahead, correctly reading his momentary distraction. "Shelter first, academic observations second."

  Elias hurried to catch up, the weight of the manuscript against his chest a constant reminder of their purpose. The ancient authors had experienced this same dispcement, had found themselves thrown into the loop just as he and Marcus had been. And somehow, they had understood enough to create the manuscript as both warning and guide.

  Now, thousands of years ter, that guide was in his hands. If anyone could decipher its secrets and find a way home, it was him—assuming Marcus's protective instincts allowed him the opportunity to properly study it.

  As the brilliant Egyptian sun beat down on them, Elias felt the first stirring of something unexpected beneath his academic excitement and rational fear—a sense of destiny, as though the manuscript had always been meant to find its way to him, across millennia, to complete a cycle begun in a time before written history.