Rene Daniel's Blog, page 4
January 4, 2014
Time and the Nile
It is a new year. We measure time in years and months. It was not always this way. In the ancient Egypt, life revolved around floods. Nile floods. They gave life - or they gave famine. It was thus very important to predict the extent of the annual flood, and to do so, they measure the river depth by Nilemeters. These were connected with the river. Here is a picture of a sophisticated Nilemeter, which was connected with the river: 
Nilemeters also made it into my book, Spear of Seth. Here is the relevant passage (and adventure):
....Heather was just starting to object when a tremendous thump drowned out whatever she wanted to say. The room sank instantly into darkness as lights went out and the air filled with dust. I stuck my hand into my pocket and pulled out the flashlight. In its light, I saw a rock wall where the exit had lain a moment before. The rockslide had cut us off.
“Jonathan!” yelled Heather. “Jonathan!” she screamed again, in a voiced tinged with fear. “I think he is under the rocks.” She turned to me. “We must pull him out.”
I looked down at the floor. “Fat chance,” I said. “That bastard got out.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Heather.
“Look at his footprints,” I said. “He was moving away, out of the room. And here is his mask. He tossed it before he got out.”
“You just don't like him,” she retorted angrily. “He may be hurt. And if he really made it out, he’ll bring help,” she added, her voice filled with desperate hope.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “After he made sure that nobody else was at the temple, and after he asked us not to tell anybody where we were going. He planned it very well,” I added bitterly.
“I don't believe that,” Heather snapped. “I'm sure he'll bring help,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Well, in case he doesn't, I'm going to try to clear out the next doorway and check to see if there is a way out,” I said and turned away.
I began removing the upper rocks blocking the inner doorway. Heather sat down and observed me sulkily, but at least she held the flashlight shining on the doorway. The air was getting heavier and heavier. If we don’t get out soon, we're going to suffocate down here, and worked harder. Finally I cleared away enough rocks to open a little space at the top of the doorway. I climbed in. Once I got halfway into the next room, I felt an open space beneath me. I tried to back out, but I was too far in.
I lost my balance, fell forward and suddenly slid on a sandy slope toward the center of the room. I heard little rocks and sand moving, rolling and finally falling and hitting water. I realized I must be sliding toward a big hole. I dug my fingers and feet into the sand until I stopped. A light appeared behind me and I heard Heather’s anguished voice. “Alex, are you all right?”
I didn't respond. Two feet in front of me, I saw the mouth of a huge well. It was at least ten feet across. I saw a spiral staircase, hugging the wall of the well, descending into darkness. I shuddered.
Heather came into the room (a bit more gracefully) and stood next to me. “Look,” she said, excitement in her voice. “A Nilemeter.”
“A what?” I growled, trying to back away from the well. Going uphill on my belly turned out not to be the best way to locomote.
“A Nilemeter,” she repeated. “It was used to measure the river’s level. This way, the Egyptians could estimate the strength of the annual flood,” she continued.
I finally succeeded in backing far enough from the well to feel I could stand up safely. “You mean this well? How did it work?” I asked mainly to keep the lecture going while I tried to get my shaking legs under control.
“The Nilemeter? It was connected by a tunnel to the river.”
I walked—carefully— back to the well and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of light deep in the water, or so it seemed to me. I gathered my courage and descended the staircase. Eight feet down, I reached the water level. I took a deep breath and dived, swimming toward the light. I descended about six feet before I touched the wall and found an edge of a tunnel. I swam back and climbed out of the water. “I think we may have a way out.”
“Are you crazy?” she blurted out. “You want us to dive into that black water and swim into some underwater tunnel? Besides, sometimes they built these tunnels into a complete mazework and we could get trapped.” She spun around and resolutely began to climb back into the pharmacy room. “I’m going to wait until somebody comes,” she shouted over her shoulder. To me, she sounded like a petulant child.
“Look, Heather,” I began and started after her. When I made it into the pharmacy, I tripped over something. The breaking sound told me that I had just finished off the twin jar. “I am sorry, I…” I tried to apologize.
She raised her hand and stopped me. I followed her gaze and looked down at the jar. A green, fluorescent fog rose from the broken neck. It formed a strange shape, until it resembled a man-sized, blind frog. “Quick,” said Heather, dragging me away.
“What is it?” I gasped.
“I don’t know and don’t want to find out,” snapped Heather. We retreated into the Nilemeter room and without hesitation Heather jumped.
I followed her into the water and finally into the tunnel. Fortunately, the tunnel itself was only about fifteen feet long. I looked up, saw light, and after a short ascent broke the surface of the Nile River. Heather surfaced to my left, spitting water and coughing. She looked around and smiled when she saw me.
“We made it,” she said jubilantly, then concentrated on swimming till we reached the landing.
Nilemeters also made it into my book, Spear of Seth. Here is the relevant passage (and adventure):....Heather was just starting to object when a tremendous thump drowned out whatever she wanted to say. The room sank instantly into darkness as lights went out and the air filled with dust. I stuck my hand into my pocket and pulled out the flashlight. In its light, I saw a rock wall where the exit had lain a moment before. The rockslide had cut us off.
“Jonathan!” yelled Heather. “Jonathan!” she screamed again, in a voiced tinged with fear. “I think he is under the rocks.” She turned to me. “We must pull him out.”
I looked down at the floor. “Fat chance,” I said. “That bastard got out.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Heather.
“Look at his footprints,” I said. “He was moving away, out of the room. And here is his mask. He tossed it before he got out.”
“You just don't like him,” she retorted angrily. “He may be hurt. And if he really made it out, he’ll bring help,” she added, her voice filled with desperate hope.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “After he made sure that nobody else was at the temple, and after he asked us not to tell anybody where we were going. He planned it very well,” I added bitterly.
“I don't believe that,” Heather snapped. “I'm sure he'll bring help,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Well, in case he doesn't, I'm going to try to clear out the next doorway and check to see if there is a way out,” I said and turned away.
I began removing the upper rocks blocking the inner doorway. Heather sat down and observed me sulkily, but at least she held the flashlight shining on the doorway. The air was getting heavier and heavier. If we don’t get out soon, we're going to suffocate down here, and worked harder. Finally I cleared away enough rocks to open a little space at the top of the doorway. I climbed in. Once I got halfway into the next room, I felt an open space beneath me. I tried to back out, but I was too far in.
I lost my balance, fell forward and suddenly slid on a sandy slope toward the center of the room. I heard little rocks and sand moving, rolling and finally falling and hitting water. I realized I must be sliding toward a big hole. I dug my fingers and feet into the sand until I stopped. A light appeared behind me and I heard Heather’s anguished voice. “Alex, are you all right?”
I didn't respond. Two feet in front of me, I saw the mouth of a huge well. It was at least ten feet across. I saw a spiral staircase, hugging the wall of the well, descending into darkness. I shuddered.
Heather came into the room (a bit more gracefully) and stood next to me. “Look,” she said, excitement in her voice. “A Nilemeter.”
“A what?” I growled, trying to back away from the well. Going uphill on my belly turned out not to be the best way to locomote.
“A Nilemeter,” she repeated. “It was used to measure the river’s level. This way, the Egyptians could estimate the strength of the annual flood,” she continued.
I finally succeeded in backing far enough from the well to feel I could stand up safely. “You mean this well? How did it work?” I asked mainly to keep the lecture going while I tried to get my shaking legs under control.
“The Nilemeter? It was connected by a tunnel to the river.”
I walked—carefully— back to the well and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of light deep in the water, or so it seemed to me. I gathered my courage and descended the staircase. Eight feet down, I reached the water level. I took a deep breath and dived, swimming toward the light. I descended about six feet before I touched the wall and found an edge of a tunnel. I swam back and climbed out of the water. “I think we may have a way out.”
“Are you crazy?” she blurted out. “You want us to dive into that black water and swim into some underwater tunnel? Besides, sometimes they built these tunnels into a complete mazework and we could get trapped.” She spun around and resolutely began to climb back into the pharmacy room. “I’m going to wait until somebody comes,” she shouted over her shoulder. To me, she sounded like a petulant child.
“Look, Heather,” I began and started after her. When I made it into the pharmacy, I tripped over something. The breaking sound told me that I had just finished off the twin jar. “I am sorry, I…” I tried to apologize.
She raised her hand and stopped me. I followed her gaze and looked down at the jar. A green, fluorescent fog rose from the broken neck. It formed a strange shape, until it resembled a man-sized, blind frog. “Quick,” said Heather, dragging me away.
“What is it?” I gasped.
“I don’t know and don’t want to find out,” snapped Heather. We retreated into the Nilemeter room and without hesitation Heather jumped.
I followed her into the water and finally into the tunnel. Fortunately, the tunnel itself was only about fifteen feet long. I looked up, saw light, and after a short ascent broke the surface of the Nile River. Heather surfaced to my left, spitting water and coughing. She looked around and smiled when she saw me.
“We made it,” she said jubilantly, then concentrated on swimming till we reached the landing.
December 28, 2013
Bastet and Christmas (unedited, editor wanted)
She looked at me with her beautiful amber and black eyes. Her ears, thin and delicate like seashells, slightly moved as she waited for my response. She was wrapped in a luxury black and white fur coat, as soft as dandelion seeds. She languidly walked to me, elegant and proud, sat down and peered again at my face. She had…expectations.
“You shall serve and obey,” her eyes said. “I know that. Now, will you..?”
I suppressed a sigh. Showing any hesitation in the presence of such a beauty would be just too impolite. I got up from the sofa, walked to the pantry and reached for a can of cat food. The lady approvingly rubbed against my legs. She had her way, as always.
When she appeared at our house, she was a little thing, all skin and bones. She was adopted from a shelter and nothing about her suggested she had a long, illustrious pedigree and cats like her lived with humans already at the time of Tutankhamun, and well before that. They were sacred. There are thousands of little sarcophagi and mummies of little cats, gazing enigmatically and slightly contemptuously at gawking visitors to Egypt archeological sites and museums. They symbolized and belonged to Bastet, the cat goddess. Cats could protect the household not only from pests, but also from cobras, just like Bastet, also known as Lady of Flame and Eye of Ra, protected the whole of Lower Egypt. With such a distinguished ancestry, it was no wonder that our new family member quickly established herself as the ruler of the house.
Every morning she insists on entering the master bedroom and proceeds to nibble on any exposed toes, provoking indignant cries from the human mistress of the house. She will promptly occupy any warm spot, which was accidentally vacated by an unthinking human owner. Then, of course, a breakfast needs to be served, less our eardrums were shattered by earth-shattering yowling. We are well trained at this point and are able to feed the goddess with a minimum of fuss. The dish is then sniffed at, and rejected if it does not meet the specifications. These include at least a whiff of tuna. Assuming the food passed inspection, it is promptly devoured. Then she curls up in a carefully selected, soft spot on one of the sofas, and promptly falls asleep. This, being her favorite “activity”, is occasionally interrupted by frenzied running, jumping, playing, attacking everything in sight, and more feeding. Of course, one should not forget that at least an hour every day is dedicated to staring at the family hamster and wondering how to get him out of his cage. The hamster, feeling safe, ignores her with a quiet dignity. He is probably the only member of the household, which did not submit to her rule. Given her links to the pagan goddess and her position as the queen of all she can see, one had to wonder what she will think of Christmas.
The first signs were not encouraging. The huge green mass of the Christmas Tree was greeted with suspicion as it passed the doorway. She cautiously approached and sniffed at the fragrant needless. One careless turn by the mover and a touch by a branch later, a black and white streak flashed by and disappeared upstairs to hide under a bed.
Finally the tree stood and ornaments found their way on its branches. The queen came out of her hidden chamber and decided to reinvestigate the invader. The glass balls and birds were interesting and so were the low-hanging branches. The tree stand made a convenient water bowl. Then the tree started to shake as a hidden force beneath it tried to pull it down, and a ribbon came off. The pagan goddess was caught and after a major struggle separated from the symbol of Christmas. This was not going to end well. Then I remembered. If you are of the Central European persuasion, you think a proper Christmas dinner is a fish rather than a turkey, so there is always a fish around the house at this time of the year. Perhaps a bit of bribery would work? A piece of carp was graciously accepted. However, the household went to sleep rather worried about a potential religious war taking a place in the dead of the night.
The night was quiet and not a sound disturbed the morning hush as I descended the stairs. A relief washed over me, quickly replaced by suspicion. Where was that cat? What was she plotting now? Oh, there she is, sleeping peacefully under the tree, on a bed she made of gold and silver tree chains. I absentmindedly turned on a CD player and the sound of Christmas carols filled the air. The goddess yawned and went back to sleep. A truce was established between Bastet and Christmas. I went into the kitchen and picked up another can of cat food. If she is served well, we may make it through the holidays without further hiccups. I hope. But then, Christmas is the time of hope, isn’t it?
“You shall serve and obey,” her eyes said. “I know that. Now, will you..?”
I suppressed a sigh. Showing any hesitation in the presence of such a beauty would be just too impolite. I got up from the sofa, walked to the pantry and reached for a can of cat food. The lady approvingly rubbed against my legs. She had her way, as always.
When she appeared at our house, she was a little thing, all skin and bones. She was adopted from a shelter and nothing about her suggested she had a long, illustrious pedigree and cats like her lived with humans already at the time of Tutankhamun, and well before that. They were sacred. There are thousands of little sarcophagi and mummies of little cats, gazing enigmatically and slightly contemptuously at gawking visitors to Egypt archeological sites and museums. They symbolized and belonged to Bastet, the cat goddess. Cats could protect the household not only from pests, but also from cobras, just like Bastet, also known as Lady of Flame and Eye of Ra, protected the whole of Lower Egypt. With such a distinguished ancestry, it was no wonder that our new family member quickly established herself as the ruler of the house.
Every morning she insists on entering the master bedroom and proceeds to nibble on any exposed toes, provoking indignant cries from the human mistress of the house. She will promptly occupy any warm spot, which was accidentally vacated by an unthinking human owner. Then, of course, a breakfast needs to be served, less our eardrums were shattered by earth-shattering yowling. We are well trained at this point and are able to feed the goddess with a minimum of fuss. The dish is then sniffed at, and rejected if it does not meet the specifications. These include at least a whiff of tuna. Assuming the food passed inspection, it is promptly devoured. Then she curls up in a carefully selected, soft spot on one of the sofas, and promptly falls asleep. This, being her favorite “activity”, is occasionally interrupted by frenzied running, jumping, playing, attacking everything in sight, and more feeding. Of course, one should not forget that at least an hour every day is dedicated to staring at the family hamster and wondering how to get him out of his cage. The hamster, feeling safe, ignores her with a quiet dignity. He is probably the only member of the household, which did not submit to her rule. Given her links to the pagan goddess and her position as the queen of all she can see, one had to wonder what she will think of Christmas.
The first signs were not encouraging. The huge green mass of the Christmas Tree was greeted with suspicion as it passed the doorway. She cautiously approached and sniffed at the fragrant needless. One careless turn by the mover and a touch by a branch later, a black and white streak flashed by and disappeared upstairs to hide under a bed.
Finally the tree stood and ornaments found their way on its branches. The queen came out of her hidden chamber and decided to reinvestigate the invader. The glass balls and birds were interesting and so were the low-hanging branches. The tree stand made a convenient water bowl. Then the tree started to shake as a hidden force beneath it tried to pull it down, and a ribbon came off. The pagan goddess was caught and after a major struggle separated from the symbol of Christmas. This was not going to end well. Then I remembered. If you are of the Central European persuasion, you think a proper Christmas dinner is a fish rather than a turkey, so there is always a fish around the house at this time of the year. Perhaps a bit of bribery would work? A piece of carp was graciously accepted. However, the household went to sleep rather worried about a potential religious war taking a place in the dead of the night.
The night was quiet and not a sound disturbed the morning hush as I descended the stairs. A relief washed over me, quickly replaced by suspicion. Where was that cat? What was she plotting now? Oh, there she is, sleeping peacefully under the tree, on a bed she made of gold and silver tree chains. I absentmindedly turned on a CD player and the sound of Christmas carols filled the air. The goddess yawned and went back to sleep. A truce was established between Bastet and Christmas. I went into the kitchen and picked up another can of cat food. If she is served well, we may make it through the holidays without further hiccups. I hope. But then, Christmas is the time of hope, isn’t it?
December 26, 2013
Bastet and Christmas (in Czech. English version will follow shortly).
Vánoce a Bastet
Upřela na mě své oči barvy jantaru a nejhlubší noce. Její uši, tenké a křehké
jako mořské mušle, se lehce chvěly, jak čekala na mou odpověď. Oblečená byla v luxusním bílé a černém kožichu, jemném jak semena pampelišek. Po chvíli došla k rozhodnutí, zdvedla se a zamířila ke mě, elegantní a sebevědomá jako vždy. Pak si sedla k mým nohám a znovu se mě zkoumavě podívala. Byla náročnou paní.
“Budeš mi sloužit a vyplníš každé mé přání,” pravily její oči. “Vím, že budeš.”
Potlačil jsem povzdech a zvedl se ze židle. Jakékoliv zaváhání v přítomnosti
takové krásky by bylo prostě příliš nezdvořilé. Otevřel jsem dveře do spíže a sáhl po plechovce kočici stravy. Vládkyně se souhlasně třela o mé nohy. Bylo po jejím, jako vždycky.
Když se objevila v našem domě, byla kost a kůže a skoro se vešla do dlaně.
Byla adoptována z útulku a nikdo by o ní neřekl, že má dlouhý, slavný
rodokmen, a kočky stejné jako ona žily s lidmi již v době Tutanchamona a jeho předků. Byly posvátné. Existují tisíce malých sarkofágů a mumií malých koček, hledící tajemně a lehce pohrdavě na návštěvníky do Egyptských
archeologických nalezišť a muzeí. Kočky symbolizovaly a patřily kočičí bohyni
Bastet. Chránily domácnost nejen před malými škůdci jako jsou myši a krysy,
ale také před kobrami. Podobně Bastet, též známa jako Ohnivá Dáma a Oko Ra,
chránila celý Dolní Egypt. Při takovém význačném původu nebylo divu, že se
náš nový člen rodiny rychle etabloval jako pán, či vlastně paní domu.
Každé ráno trvá na návštěvě ložnice a okusování všech prstů u nohou, které
byly nešťastnou náhodou vystrčeny zpod deky. To vyvolává hněv lidské paní
domu, který je skutečnou vládkyní ignorován nebo spíše považován za pochvalu. Jakékoliv teplé místo, který bylo omylem opuštěno nemyslícími lidskými majitely, je okamžitě obsazeno. Pak musí být servírována snídaně, pokud nechceme, aby nám praskly ušní bubínky. Jsme už dobře vyškoleni a umíme posloužit bohyni s minimálním úsilím. Snídaně je pak očichána
a zamítnuta, pokud nesplňuje specifikace. Mezi tyto patří aspoň trochu tuňáka. Jídlo, které prošlo kontrolou, je okamžitě zhltnuto. Královna se pak stočí na
pečlivě vybraném, měkkém míste na jedné z pohovek a usne jako zabitá. Tato,
jinak její nejoblíbenější" aktivita", je občas přerušena zběsilym
běháním, skákáním, hraním, útoky na všechno, co je v dohledu, a dalším
krmením. Neměli bychom také zapomínat, že alespoň hodina denně je věnována zíraní na rodinného křečka a přemýšleni, jak ho dostat ven z klece. Křeček, který se spoléhá na pevně mříže, ji ignoruje s tichou důstojností. Je
pravděpodobně jediným členem domácnosti, který se odmítl podrobit její vládě.
Přišel prosinec a s ním další starost: copak si asi bude pohanská bohyně a
královna všeho, kam zrak dosáhne, myslet o Vánocích? První známky nebyly povzbudivé. Obrovská zelená masa vánočního stromu byla přivítána s podezřením hned jak prošla dveřmi. Královna se opatrně přiblížila a čichla k voňavému jehličí. Jeden nemotorný pohyb stěhováka a dotek větví stačil: černobílý blesk vyletěl po schodech do prvního patra, kde zmizel pod postelí.
Nakonec strom stál a na jeho větvích se objevily ozdoby. Královna vyšla z
tajné komory a rozhodla se znovu prozkoumat nového vetřelce. Skleněné koule byly zajímavé, stejně jako byly nízko visící větve. Ze stojanu stromů se
krásné dalo pít. Pak se strom začal třást, jak se ho skrytá síla schovaná po
ním snažila povalit a pokořit. Pohanská bohyně byla chycena a po velkém boji od symbolu Vánoc odtržena. To nedopadne dobře. Pak jsem si na něco vzpomněl. Pokud jste ze střední Evropy, za správné vánoční jídlo považujete rybu a ne krocana, takže na Vánoce určitě v domě aspoň jedna bude. Možná úplatek zabere? Kus kapra byla vlídně přijat. Nicméně domácnost šla spát v obavách z možné náboženské války, odehrávající se v hloubi noce.
Noc byla klidná a ráno všude panoval podezřelý klid. Má počáteční úleva byla
rychle nahrazena podezřením. Kde je ta kočka? Co zase kuje? Aha, tady je,
klidně spí pod stromem, na posteli, kterou si udělala ze zlatých a stříbrných
řetězů. Poškrábal jsem ji za ušima a zapnul rádio. Zvuk koled naplnil vzduch.
Bohyně zívla a šla zase spát. Mezi Vánocemi a Bastet bylo uzavřeno příměří.
Šel jsem do kuchyně a vyndal další kočičí konzervičku. Pokud to vydrží,
přežijeme Vánoce bez zvláštních problémů. Tedy, aspoň doufám. Ale Vánoce
jsou čas nadějí, nebo snad ne?
Upřela na mě své oči barvy jantaru a nejhlubší noce. Její uši, tenké a křehké
jako mořské mušle, se lehce chvěly, jak čekala na mou odpověď. Oblečená byla v luxusním bílé a černém kožichu, jemném jak semena pampelišek. Po chvíli došla k rozhodnutí, zdvedla se a zamířila ke mě, elegantní a sebevědomá jako vždy. Pak si sedla k mým nohám a znovu se mě zkoumavě podívala. Byla náročnou paní.
“Budeš mi sloužit a vyplníš každé mé přání,” pravily její oči. “Vím, že budeš.”
Potlačil jsem povzdech a zvedl se ze židle. Jakékoliv zaváhání v přítomnosti
takové krásky by bylo prostě příliš nezdvořilé. Otevřel jsem dveře do spíže a sáhl po plechovce kočici stravy. Vládkyně se souhlasně třela o mé nohy. Bylo po jejím, jako vždycky.
Když se objevila v našem domě, byla kost a kůže a skoro se vešla do dlaně.
Byla adoptována z útulku a nikdo by o ní neřekl, že má dlouhý, slavný
rodokmen, a kočky stejné jako ona žily s lidmi již v době Tutanchamona a jeho předků. Byly posvátné. Existují tisíce malých sarkofágů a mumií malých koček, hledící tajemně a lehce pohrdavě na návštěvníky do Egyptských
archeologických nalezišť a muzeí. Kočky symbolizovaly a patřily kočičí bohyni
Bastet. Chránily domácnost nejen před malými škůdci jako jsou myši a krysy,
ale také před kobrami. Podobně Bastet, též známa jako Ohnivá Dáma a Oko Ra,
chránila celý Dolní Egypt. Při takovém význačném původu nebylo divu, že se
náš nový člen rodiny rychle etabloval jako pán, či vlastně paní domu.
Každé ráno trvá na návštěvě ložnice a okusování všech prstů u nohou, které
byly nešťastnou náhodou vystrčeny zpod deky. To vyvolává hněv lidské paní
domu, který je skutečnou vládkyní ignorován nebo spíše považován za pochvalu. Jakékoliv teplé místo, který bylo omylem opuštěno nemyslícími lidskými majitely, je okamžitě obsazeno. Pak musí být servírována snídaně, pokud nechceme, aby nám praskly ušní bubínky. Jsme už dobře vyškoleni a umíme posloužit bohyni s minimálním úsilím. Snídaně je pak očichána
a zamítnuta, pokud nesplňuje specifikace. Mezi tyto patří aspoň trochu tuňáka. Jídlo, které prošlo kontrolou, je okamžitě zhltnuto. Královna se pak stočí na
pečlivě vybraném, měkkém míste na jedné z pohovek a usne jako zabitá. Tato,
jinak její nejoblíbenější" aktivita", je občas přerušena zběsilym
běháním, skákáním, hraním, útoky na všechno, co je v dohledu, a dalším
krmením. Neměli bychom také zapomínat, že alespoň hodina denně je věnována zíraní na rodinného křečka a přemýšleni, jak ho dostat ven z klece. Křeček, který se spoléhá na pevně mříže, ji ignoruje s tichou důstojností. Je
pravděpodobně jediným členem domácnosti, který se odmítl podrobit její vládě.
Přišel prosinec a s ním další starost: copak si asi bude pohanská bohyně a
královna všeho, kam zrak dosáhne, myslet o Vánocích? První známky nebyly povzbudivé. Obrovská zelená masa vánočního stromu byla přivítána s podezřením hned jak prošla dveřmi. Královna se opatrně přiblížila a čichla k voňavému jehličí. Jeden nemotorný pohyb stěhováka a dotek větví stačil: černobílý blesk vyletěl po schodech do prvního patra, kde zmizel pod postelí.
Nakonec strom stál a na jeho větvích se objevily ozdoby. Královna vyšla z
tajné komory a rozhodla se znovu prozkoumat nového vetřelce. Skleněné koule byly zajímavé, stejně jako byly nízko visící větve. Ze stojanu stromů se
krásné dalo pít. Pak se strom začal třást, jak se ho skrytá síla schovaná po
ním snažila povalit a pokořit. Pohanská bohyně byla chycena a po velkém boji od symbolu Vánoc odtržena. To nedopadne dobře. Pak jsem si na něco vzpomněl. Pokud jste ze střední Evropy, za správné vánoční jídlo považujete rybu a ne krocana, takže na Vánoce určitě v domě aspoň jedna bude. Možná úplatek zabere? Kus kapra byla vlídně přijat. Nicméně domácnost šla spát v obavách z možné náboženské války, odehrávající se v hloubi noce.
Noc byla klidná a ráno všude panoval podezřelý klid. Má počáteční úleva byla
rychle nahrazena podezřením. Kde je ta kočka? Co zase kuje? Aha, tady je,
klidně spí pod stromem, na posteli, kterou si udělala ze zlatých a stříbrných
řetězů. Poškrábal jsem ji za ušima a zapnul rádio. Zvuk koled naplnil vzduch.
Bohyně zívla a šla zase spát. Mezi Vánocemi a Bastet bylo uzavřeno příměří.
Šel jsem do kuchyně a vyndal další kočičí konzervičku. Pokud to vydrží,
přežijeme Vánoce bez zvláštních problémů. Tedy, aspoň doufám. Ale Vánoce
jsou čas nadějí, nebo snad ne?
December 8, 2013
November 16, 2013
New reviews
Thank you, guys, for the wonderful reviews of "Tesla": http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Nikola-Tesla-Senmut-College-ebook/dp/B00BUSSEL8/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1384629108&sr=1-1&keywords=The+last+secret+of+nikola+tesla
August 3, 2013
A Book Talk
I will be be talking about the "Tesla" book on October 19/2013, here: http://www.meetup.com/ntesla-38/events/110264902/. If you are in Philly, please join us.
July 9, 2013
The Man Who Brought Us Energy
By Rene Daniel
It is blazing hot outside at Logan Square and the noon sun forces people to put on shades, but here in the Electricity section the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia the air conditioning keeps an ambient temperature and the lights are dimmed. I observe my daughter gingerly step on the Sustainable Dance Floor, which generates energy to illuminate itself. Nothing happens. She gets bolder and jumps up and down. At last, the floor lights up under her feet. I walk to the Floor myself and step on. It works better for me. Those extra pounds I have are finally put to a good use. Perhaps there is something good about them and I can delay the diet I was planning on and get a hamburger later on.
My musing about bright prospects for energy future in a fast food-centered country are interrupted by a question:
“You said that thing is going to shoot light.”
I raise my eyes. That “thing”hangs from the ceiling and is bigger than an average person. It looks like a mushroom. A giant metal snake wraps around the top of its smooth stalk.
“You will have to try harder,” I say. “This Tesla Coil needs more energy before it produces a bolt of lightning.
“What is Tesla?”
OK, so I asked for it, but at least she does not demand I dance at the floor like it
says in a guide. I am willing to do a lot to entertain my children but there is
a limit. “Not what –a who,” I say. “Nikola Tesla is, or was a person, you should know that.” Then I guiltily flash back to my childhood in Czechoslovakia and remember our family vacuum. It carried a little label that said Tesla. For a long time I was convinced that Tesla is simply a different name for electricity. When I graduated from the middle school, I knew better.“Tesla,” I formulate my answer slowly, “was an inventor. He worked so we can now plug our computer, your toys - and TV, I wince – into a wall outlet and they work.”
“You mean he invented electricity?” asks my underestimated scholar.
“Not really,” I say. “But you could say he brought us the electricity. Tesla invented and built a lot of stuff that uses electric energy and he helped to bring
electricity to our homes in the form of alternating current.” I stop, expecting
the inevitable. If she calls me on my high school physics, I am in trouble.
“Is he around here?” she asks instead. “Can we say hi to him?”
“No,” I say with an unexpected sadness. “He died seventy years ago. In a few days, on July 10, he would have his birthday.” She loses interest, momentarily distracted by the nearby display of a circuit board.
What makes us to turn again and again to a man that was born 157 years ago? There were other giants that contributed to our world. Few of them keep the hold on their fans as much as Tesla does. Perhaps it is our admiration for a lone wolf, for a lone man that takes on the world. Tesla was the essence of him. A young Serbian boy, born in a village as a son of a priest, he worked his way up. The only concern his teachers had was that he will kill himself working so
hard.
He had 700 inventions to his name. He won the war of currents with Edison and so we use the alternating instead of the direct current. It helped that the alternating current, championed by Tesla, is a better vehicle to transmit energy. He invented the alternating current motor, which we depend on to run appliances in our homes.He made extraordinary claims and proposed machines so powerful that enthusiasts try to build them even now, and The MythBusters TV series felt compelled to test one of his machines to see if it can really generate earthquakes. Fortunately it did not. Even a genius can be wrong from time to time.
Westinghouse paid him handsomely for his inventions, yet he died penniless. He put the money he made back into his research. The company called Tesla that I remembered splintered into many, but they still carry the Tesla name. Of course, by now they are overshadowed by the new kid on the bloc called Tesla Motors. The Tesla laboratory at Wardenclyffe was recently bought by Tesla enthusiasts and will be renovated. The legend of Tesla will live on and continue to inspire.
“This looks simple,” says my daughter, her attention back to the giant
coil.
“Yes, but it can do wonderful things,” I say.
“Can I make things like Tesla?” she asks.
“Perhaps,” I say, “If you work hard."
“Can everybody be like Tesla?”
“No, not everybody. But everybody should try.”
It is blazing hot outside at Logan Square and the noon sun forces people to put on shades, but here in the Electricity section the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia the air conditioning keeps an ambient temperature and the lights are dimmed. I observe my daughter gingerly step on the Sustainable Dance Floor, which generates energy to illuminate itself. Nothing happens. She gets bolder and jumps up and down. At last, the floor lights up under her feet. I walk to the Floor myself and step on. It works better for me. Those extra pounds I have are finally put to a good use. Perhaps there is something good about them and I can delay the diet I was planning on and get a hamburger later on.
My musing about bright prospects for energy future in a fast food-centered country are interrupted by a question:
“You said that thing is going to shoot light.”
I raise my eyes. That “thing”hangs from the ceiling and is bigger than an average person. It looks like a mushroom. A giant metal snake wraps around the top of its smooth stalk.
“You will have to try harder,” I say. “This Tesla Coil needs more energy before it produces a bolt of lightning.
“What is Tesla?”
OK, so I asked for it, but at least she does not demand I dance at the floor like it
says in a guide. I am willing to do a lot to entertain my children but there is
a limit. “Not what –a who,” I say. “Nikola Tesla is, or was a person, you should know that.” Then I guiltily flash back to my childhood in Czechoslovakia and remember our family vacuum. It carried a little label that said Tesla. For a long time I was convinced that Tesla is simply a different name for electricity. When I graduated from the middle school, I knew better.“Tesla,” I formulate my answer slowly, “was an inventor. He worked so we can now plug our computer, your toys - and TV, I wince – into a wall outlet and they work.”
“You mean he invented electricity?” asks my underestimated scholar.
“Not really,” I say. “But you could say he brought us the electricity. Tesla invented and built a lot of stuff that uses electric energy and he helped to bring
electricity to our homes in the form of alternating current.” I stop, expecting
the inevitable. If she calls me on my high school physics, I am in trouble.
“Is he around here?” she asks instead. “Can we say hi to him?”
“No,” I say with an unexpected sadness. “He died seventy years ago. In a few days, on July 10, he would have his birthday.” She loses interest, momentarily distracted by the nearby display of a circuit board.
What makes us to turn again and again to a man that was born 157 years ago? There were other giants that contributed to our world. Few of them keep the hold on their fans as much as Tesla does. Perhaps it is our admiration for a lone wolf, for a lone man that takes on the world. Tesla was the essence of him. A young Serbian boy, born in a village as a son of a priest, he worked his way up. The only concern his teachers had was that he will kill himself working so
hard.
He had 700 inventions to his name. He won the war of currents with Edison and so we use the alternating instead of the direct current. It helped that the alternating current, championed by Tesla, is a better vehicle to transmit energy. He invented the alternating current motor, which we depend on to run appliances in our homes.He made extraordinary claims and proposed machines so powerful that enthusiasts try to build them even now, and The MythBusters TV series felt compelled to test one of his machines to see if it can really generate earthquakes. Fortunately it did not. Even a genius can be wrong from time to time.
Westinghouse paid him handsomely for his inventions, yet he died penniless. He put the money he made back into his research. The company called Tesla that I remembered splintered into many, but they still carry the Tesla name. Of course, by now they are overshadowed by the new kid on the bloc called Tesla Motors. The Tesla laboratory at Wardenclyffe was recently bought by Tesla enthusiasts and will be renovated. The legend of Tesla will live on and continue to inspire.
“This looks simple,” says my daughter, her attention back to the giant
coil.
“Yes, but it can do wonderful things,” I say.
“Can I make things like Tesla?” she asks.
“Perhaps,” I say, “If you work hard."
“Can everybody be like Tesla?”
“No, not everybody. But everybody should try.”
July 6, 2013
Tesla Days
Tesla's anniversary is coming up and so do Tesla Days here in Philly: http://teslasciencefoundation.org/index.php/en/. also, The "Tesla" book was revised and the new, corrected version is available both on Kindle and Amazon, and of course at newfantasynovel.com.
June 28, 2013
My apologies
"I" just noticed (OK, my wife did) that I have a mix-up in the chapter "Karif" in The Last Secret of Nikola Tesla. I will revise the book on Amazon, of course, but if you already bought it, please let me know and i will send you the revised version. I probably have e-mails of people who bought the pdf file, and will send them the corrected version without asking. Rene
June 8, 2013
Treasure in the Great Pyramid?
So "a famous archeologist" says there is a tresure in the Great Pyramid, right behind the sealed doors: http://www.livescience.com/37229-great-pyramid-zahi-hawass.html. Sure. I agree there is something, and I said so in The Last Sectert of Nikola Tesla. Except, i dont think it is the Khufu's burial chamber. I think perhaps...well, you would have to read the book.
