"See," he said triumphantly, "the vertigo happens when it hits you quickly. Memory is one thing, accessing the Akashic Records for the history of empires is quite another."
"Much respect," Damali said, swaying slightly and then stabilizing herself with the stick.
"The first time you pull down the knowledge can literally be mind blowing."
She nodded and tried to stand.
"Patience," he warned with a warm smile, "we have time. Wait until you see the knights of Templar and the Scottish Room... we have each section of the known world to cover before we go to the most impressive one of all."
Damali shook her head and this time when she attempted to stand, her legs held her weight. "No, sir, I really don't have as much time as you think. I have to go home. Soon." But the Templars... yeah. Maybe there was something here she needed to see.
He sighed and bid her to follow him with a simple wave of his hand. As they approached the enormous staircase again, she was forced to hold on to the rail. Her grip seemed precarious, at best, as the tour guide happily went on about how the forty-ton, five-story, spiral monolith was actually welded together in the building. Her vision blurred again, and that white glimpse haunted her. It floated lazily between the spirals. But it didn't frighten her. A place this old would be replete with ghosts.
"If you look down at the blue rug at the bottom of this impressive masterpiece," the guide lilted, causing her to peer over the rim of the railings despite her better judgment, "you will feel like you are spiraling into the Nile River. The Bailey statue at the bottom of the first landing guards the foyer. She is a masterpiece, and represents the virtue of silence-worth between three to five million," the tour guide added with obvious pride.
"And, the Bohemian stained-glass window, which has a depiction of Moses approaching the Burning Bush, also represents the four cardinal virtues of temperance, fortitude, prudence, and justice, at the bottom. We have other statues of near value, angels, carved by William Rush-brother of the famous Mount Rushmore sculptor, and all the murals that we've passed have been created by Herzog."
"It'll pass, soon," she heard the guide murmur as a thin sheen of cool perspiration beaded on her brow. "Don't look down," he advised.
"I'll be fine," she wheezed while images and information from thousands of years of history poured into her brain. Snapshots like freeze-frame still video flitted in her mind's eye, giving her understanding, making her know why certain wars had been fought, what was at stake, and the battle strategies employed to shift power, realign empires, and redistribute wealth. "I just need to go home."
"Since you are so impatient and determined to push yourself to the limit, if you will follow me, next we shall enter one of our most impressive rooms, the Egyptian Room." He stopped and sighed. "It's a shame you won't let me take the time to show you the other rooms, but I guess you'll see what you must along the way."
The guide paced ahead of her and then waited as she slowly followed, a throbbing headache strumming in her temples. The floating white mist was back, wafting near her. The hair on her arms and neck was standing up. What did this presence want? She could detect curiosity in it. But also deep sadness.
"This room is so architecturally and historically accurate, that Egyptologists can even transcribe the hieroglyphics on these walls," he said, smiling broadly now as he ushered her through the door. "It is so perfect in replication that scholars from around the world come here to study the mystic symbols and designs. It took three years of Mason-brethren study to do the research abroad, followed by twelve years to build and complete the room. Each segment of the hand-carved pieces of furniture is of the highest-quality ebony wood, with twenty-three-karat gold leaf."
Immediately she felt like the only proper thing to do would be to go down on one knee, not due to the involuntary effect of the vertigo, but as a salute or gesture of respect. However, the guide's presence seemed to prevent her from doing that just yet. That was something she needed to do in private. She knew it, although wasn't exactly sure why, but she was prone to follow her gut at this point.
Growing deeply concerned as his gaze fixed just above the Lesser of Three Lights Altar toward the ceiling, she was overcome by a nuance in the odd sensations she was experiencing.
A distant buzzing in her ears began to increase in tempo and volume, making her dizzy. As the tour guide spoke, she half-collapsed, half-sat down on one of the side benches to regain her bearings.
"This is Hathor, above the main grand master's throne. She was considered goddess of wisdom and fertility, often represented with a cow's head and a woman's body. Note the ceiling fresco of twenty-three-karat gold rays emanating from the sun and holding the sacred Ankh fertility symbol out before her. Here she has been depicted-as in only one of the main Egyptian temples-with a woman's face, but cow ears to represent her considerable ability to hear that which is not being said-a foundation trait of wisdom."
It was like looking in a time-distorted mirror. The rounded, heart-shaped face, skin coloring, eyes... coiled hair. Damali's vision momentarily blurred from tears of distant recognition. Indecipherable memories began to slam into her brain in spontaneous flashes, and soon the buzzing sounds evolved into what she perceived to be the low resonance of old men's voices chanting. Unnerved, she stood and slipped outside of the room away from the vibrations, unable to listen to the tour guide and the voices in her head at the same time.
"You should see it all, and then come back to this room," the guide said, offering her his elbow.
She was slow to touch his arm, not sure why, but she wasn't too sure of a lot of things. He seemed to understand her hesitation, however, and took it in gracious stride as they walked in silence. What she'd just experienced defied words or explanation. Yet, she had no vocabulary to quickly pose a question. Too much was running through her mind just now. The silence suited her better.
When they approached the grand foyer, the tour guide described the architectural feat of the skylighting eighty-feet above them, and she watched with tears in her eyes as the man shut off the power to let the sun filter through. Tiny stars in the man-made constellation had been cut into the granite surface, which allowed one to walk among the stars on a Carrara marble floor.
"Concluding our tour," her guide quipped enthusiastically, "is our main entrance, which remains closed by day to the general public. Between five o'clock and five-thirty P.M., we open the doors to Mason brethren and their guests only, and throw the main power switch to ignite approximately fifty-one-hundred lights."
Something in Damali's brain also ignited with the mention of the lights, and she glanced in the guide's direction and made eye contact. His expression seemed to say,not now, but later .
"The interior of the main doors are guarded by two hand-cast, brass Sphinxes, and as you will look up to the center arch, there are symbols of the zodiac, and symbols from all major world religions. But," her guide continued, "we want to draw your attention to the cornerstone of the building, which was laid around the same time as that of City Hall's, and the old John Wanamaker Building, forming a powerful architectural triangulation of spectacular construction. In addition, the cornerstone in this building seals off our Masonic time capsule, buried in a vault under this structure. Unfortunately, some years ago the original one was cracked and damaged when the subway lines were installed under Broad Street."
"And the seal was broken. They put a thirty-one-foot concrete wall in front of it, for the subway, but the original cornerstone seal was broken," Damali murmured, finishing the man's sentence and drawing his undivided attention.
"Absolutely correct!" the blue uniformed man shouted merrily, his voice echoing in the vast marble halls. "In that day, they tried to use X-ray technology to avoid hitting our cornerstone, but, alas, there's nothing like those old artisans. I must implore you to visit our library one day, and most assuredly, our museum-if you have not already availed yourself. Did you know that there are more Masonic symbols hidden within the alcoves of City Hall, than even in this building? After all, the seat of this city was the unparalleled seat of world power for the burgeoning New World-and Philadelphia was the founding city of the newest, soon to be most powerful, nation on the globe, that also hosted the wealthiest, most influential families of the day. It was the new Rome, so to speak. Oh, you must try out our library and see for yourself."
"Thank you, I will try to come back here with my family," Damali said quietly, looking at the refurbished stone and shaking her head. "That was a crime. A true shame what happened. The seal wasn't supposed to be broken, especially not underground near the vents."
"Indeed," her guide quipped, concluding their tour with a glance at his watch. "We invite anyone with interest to visit, tour as many times as you'd like, and to stop by our gift shop on the way out."
"May I just walk through the Egyptian Room one more time?" she asked quietly. She gazed at him with a plea in her expression. "Alone?"