The Golden Plates of Anubis
Dr. Thale Merrick adjusted the collar of her Foundation-issued laboratory coat and peered at the monitor displaying the massive object now in Earth's orbit. The vessel defied conventional design principles, its a dark hull studded with protrusions that resembled ancient Egyptian obelisks.
"Remarkable", gasped Dr. Chen, her colleague from the Bureau of Extraterrestrial Affairs. "It registers as three-point-seven kilometers in length, with a mass consistent with hyperdense materials unknown to our chemistry."
Merrick nodded calmly. "And they've specifically requested our presence."
"Not our presence," corrected Chen, re-checking his datapad. "Your presence, Doctor. The communication specifically named you."
This was most troubling. In all the seventy-eight years since the establishment of the Foundation of Galactic Studies, no alien civilization had ever requested a specific individual by name. The statistical improbability of such an occurrence was, as Chen was calculate, astronomically high.
The shuttle docked with the alien vessel precisely on schedule. Merrick noted with professional interest that the airlock mechanisms adjusted seamlessly to accommodate their Earth-standard equipment. Another statistical anomaly.
"The atmosphere is breathable", announced Chen, studying his portable analyzer. "Oxygen-nitrogen mix, slightly higher in argon than Earth standard, but well within safety parameters."
"That's convenient." Merrick said dryly. Too convenient, she thought.
The corridors they traversed were high and arched, lined with towering statues of humanoid figures with animal heads--primarily jackals, reminiscent of the ancient Egyptian god Anubis, the god of death.
"Fascinating," she said. "Have you heard about psychostasia Dr. Chen?"
Chen studied the mural. "the ancient Egyptian judgement day ceremony?"
"That's right." Merrick continued, "In ancient Egyptian belief, this ceremony determined the fate of the dead. Anubis would weigh the heart of the dead against the feather of Ma'at, goddess of truth and justice. Hearts that balanced with the feather permitted entry to the afterlife. Those heavier than the feather were devoured by Ammit, the Devourer of Souls."
A sharp chill ran down Dr. Chen's spine. "Seems an odd choice of decoration."
Merrick ran her hand along the carved depictions of a crocodile, the forequarters of a lion, and the hindquarters of a hippopotamus.
"The ancient Egyptians believed the heart contained the ka—the life-spirit and record of one's moral choices. It was the only organ left in the body during mummification for this reason," she continued. "This practice dates back to the Old Kingdom around 2800 BCE, with the actual weighing concept appearing in the Coffin Texts of the Middle Kingdom."
"You seem remarkably well-versed in Egyptian mythology for a physicist," Chen chuckled.
"The study of ancient cosmological systems often provides unexpected insights into modern theoretical constructs," Merrick commented. "Now, the question is: why have our hosts chosen to present themselves through this particular mythological framework? A bit too strange for an alien civilization?"
"These hieroglyphics," Chen said, pausing to examine the wall engravings. "They're authentic Fifth Dynasty script, but the syntactical structure is... wrong."
"Not wrong," Merrick corrected him. "Alternative. As if they learned Egyptian writing from a parallel development." "That's not possible."
"Many things once thought impossible have become routine, Dr. Chen."
They walked down an illuminated path with amber radiance that led to a chamber contained seven massive plates arranged in a precise geometric pattern. Each plate stood approximately three meters tall and was composed of a gold-like substance that gleamed under the ambient light.
"Gold," Chen said, scanning the nearest plate with his analyzer. "But molecularly altered. There are trace elements that don't match any known isotope."
"And notably toxic," Merrick added, examining her own readings. "The toxicity levels vary by plate, with the smallest plate registering the highest concentration."
"Why would an advanced civilization construct artifacts from toxic materials?"
"I suspect the toxicity is incidental rather than purposeful," Merrick replied. She approached the plates methodically, examining the engravings on each.
The figures depicted were clearly human astronauts, wearing pressure suits of various designs. Under each figure was inscribed a name.
"Larson, Vega, Korzh," Merrick read aloud. "These appear to be names from various Earth nationalities."
"Dr. Merrick," Chen called from across the chamber. "You should see this."
The smallest plate, positioned at the center of the arrangement, bore a single name: Thale Merrick.
"The coincidence is remarkable." Merrick said, betraying no emotion despite the statistical improbability of finding her own name on an alien artifact.
"This is no coincidence," said a voice behind them.
They turned to find a figure standing in the chamber entrance. It appeared human in general form, but taller, with elongated limbs and a head that narrowed toward the top, reminiscent of the crowns worn by ancient Egyptian pharaohs. Its skin had a metallic sheen that shifted subtly in the amber light.
"We have been waiting for you, Dr. Merrick," the being said. "For approximately five thousand of your Earth years."
"Impossible," Chen blurted.
"Improbable," Merrick corrected, "but clearly not impossible, since it has occurred. You have the advantage of us, sir."
"I am Ankhtep, Keeper of Temporal Divergence."
"And what precisely does a Keeper of Temporal Divergence do?" Merrick asked, her scientific curiosity overriding any apprehension.
"We correct mistakes in the timestream. When Pharaoh Amenhotep IV discarded the Book of Thoth, he created a fracture in the development of human civilization. These plates are a record of that fracture and the means to repair it."
Chen's analyzer beeped urgently. "The smallest plate is becoming more toxic. The molecular structure is destabilizing."
"It responds to proximity," Ankhtep explained. "It seeks its target."
"And I am that target," Merrick stated, not as a question but as a logical conclusion.
Ankhtep explained the situation with remarkable clarity. In the original timestream, human civilization had developed a form of mathematics that allowed for non-destructive interstellar travel by the year 2157. The rejection of the Book of Thoth had delayed this development, placing humanity on a path toward eventual self-destruction.
The beings were not aliens, but humans from the unaltered timeline, returning to correct the deviation.
"And these plates?" Merrick asked.
"They contain the mathematical principles that were lost. Each is calibrated to the genetic signature of a specific individual who will play a key role in redeveloping the lost science."
"And mine contains the highest concentration of this toxic element because...?"
"Because you, Dr. Merrick, are the fulcrum. In our records, you develop the Unified Field Equations that bridge conventional physics with the principles contained in the Book of Thoth. But in this timeline, you instead develop a theory that leads to the Proxima Disaster of 2079."
Merrick's mind worked rapidly through the implications. "The toxicity is a failsafe," she concluded. "If I cannot be convinced to alter my research, the plate ensures I will not live to complete it."
"A crude but accurate assessment," Ankhtep acknowledged. "That's murder," Chen protested.
"It is preservation," Ankhtep corrected. "The needs of an entire species outweigh the life of one individual."
"Sounds like the Zeroth Law of Robotics", thought Merrick to herself.
"There's another option," Merrick said calmly. "You could simply provide me with the correct equations now."
Ankhtep's expression shifted subtly. "That... had not been considered."
"Then your temporal mathematics requires refinement," Merrick said with a small smile. "Shall we begin?"
Six months later, Dr. Thale Merrick published "Quantum Relationships in Non-Euclidean Spacetime," a paper that would eventually lead to the development of the first functional star drive. The paper contained no mention of ancient Egypt, temporal divergence, or mysterious visitors. But in her private notes, secured in the Foundation's most restricted archives, she recorded the truth—along with a small sample of the golden material she had been permitted to keep, its toxicity neutralized once its purpose had been fulfilled.
The vessel departed Earth orbit the day her paper was accepted for publication. Humanity's path had been corrected without a single life lost—a solution that satisfied the First Law of Robotics, though Merrick never understood why that particular thought had occurred to her as she watched the ship disappear into the depths of space.
This short story came to me in my dreams. It was a dream like no other I've had before. I decided to write it down seconds after waking up and converted it into a short story with some instances from my imagination.