of plaster were tumbling to the floor now, raising clouds of thick white dust. Khefri, a damp keffiyeh over his nose and mouth, was given the task of supervising the demolition work; Thomas and Kit retreated outside to wait until the dust-making destruction was finished.
Kit tumbled up the steps and into the bright morning light. He stood blinking up at the sky, clean blue and high above, and it did seem as if he had stumbled from darkness into the all-pervading radiance of a better world. Stepping free of the tomb, he felt compelled to ask, “Why were the ancients so in love with death?”
“Who told you they were in love with death?” wondered Dr. Young, pulling a soft cloth from a rear trouser pocket. He removed his glasses and began wiping off the dust-covered lenses.
“Is that not why they perfected mummification—to preserve the body as long as possible? Isn’t that why they went to such great lengths with all their elaborate tombs and mortuary temples and such?”
“On the contrary, dear fellow. They were in love with life!” corrected Thomas, replacing his spectacles. “And such life—life in great abundance, life in all its glorious splendour. Death was anathema to them. Death, though natural and common, was unacceptable. Death was seen as nothing short of tragic disaster—at the very least an unfortunate accident along the happy road of existence, and one which, in time, they hoped to learn to avoid altogether. They were searching for immortality precisely because they wished life to continue forever without end.”
“Don’t we all.”
“We do!” cried the doctor. “Of course we do. We were made for it, after all. I know not what it is like in your time—perhaps your world enjoys a more enlightened view—but in this current mechanistic age such thoughts are increasingly considered backwards and unscientific.” He shook his head sadly. “Too many of my brother scientists are succumbing to a view that holds all religion as outdated nonsense—nursery tales from mankind’s infancy, dogmas to be outgrown and swept aside by scientific progress.”
“I’m familiar with the view,” confirmed Kit.
“But see here,” continued Thomas, brightening once more. “Contrary to what many may think, immortality is not a fairy tale invented to compensate for an unhappy life. Rather, it is the perception shared by nearly all sentient beings that our conscious lives are not bounded by this time and space. We are not merely lumps of animate matter. We are living spirits—we all feel this innately. And in our deepest hearts, we know that we can only find ultimate fulfilment in union with the supreme spiritual reality—a reality that appears, even during this earthly life, to take us beyond the narrow limits of time.”
Kit pondered this. Although somewhat alien to his thoughts, he heard in the words, as from a far country, the distant but undeniable ring of truth. At last, he said, “Do you think we live forever?”
“Oh, I do. I most certainly do. We are all immortal, as I said.”
“That’s right, you did.” Kit savoured the idea for a moment, thinking of Cosimo, Sir Henry, his own parents, and all he had known who had gone before. “It’s a good thought.”
“Yet I perceive you remain unconvinced.” The doctor pursed his lips and regarded Kit doubtfully. “Could it be as I fear? Has the concept fallen out of favour in the age to come?” Before Kit could reply, he rushed on, “I challenge you to clear thinking, Mr. Livingstone. Consider! Consciousness is who we are—we interact with the material world as conscious beings and in no other way. Is that not so?”
“That is so.”
“Consciousness, then, is the most evident brand of existence there is. You might call it self-evident, and it is not necessarily bound to matter at all. That much is easily demonstrated. Can you not bring images to mind of far-off places, friends and relations fondly remembered, or of things that made you happy in the past? Can you not imagine acts of kindness, or cruelty? Do you not recognise the truth of something when you hear it, or know beauty when you see it?” He glanced at Kit for confirmation, then pressed towards his conclusion. “All these, and more, are expressions of consciousness, and they are not bound by matter or space or time in the least. Since this is the case, it will be most natural for our more limited human consciousnesses to recognise and yearn for an affinity with the One Great Consciousness that made us—the spiritual consciousness of the