The foreign tourists aboard our bus were worried because one of its headlights was out and the other flickered uncertainly. Combined with our driver’s kamikaze-like recklessness in maneuvering through the densely packed nighttime streets over-crowded with cars, mules, carts, pedestrians and other careening buses, some catastrophic mishap seemed inevitable. But we were unaware that the free-for-all traffic patterns of modern Cairo represented standard driving practices in the United Arab Republic.
All of us wanted to see the Great Pyramid after dark, under the moon and stars of Egypt. It would be my first time. There was going to be a “sound and light show,” in which the Great Sphinx and its pyramidal companions were bathed in various colored spotlights, while a taped, dramatic narrative, alternating in French, German and English language versions, related the site’s history. I felt fully prepared. I knew what I was going to see. It was the fulfillment of a dream nurtured in childhood and all the years since. How many books I read about this place I could not recall. I was familiar with all the theories about the colossal enigma on the Giza Plateau, from no-nonsense archaeologists, who dismissed the structure as an over-sized tomb for some megalomaniacal pharaoh, to religious fanatics, who claimed it foretold the Second Coming. Theories that included any kind of “pyramid power” were the only explanations I refused to even consider at the time. Serious enthusiasts parading in public wearing copper-tube pyramids as head-gear were not convincing. But then, neither was anybody else. No one really seemed to know anything about the Great Pyramid with certainty. Perhaps after seeing it in person, one or a combination of these numerous speculations might make sense.
Our bus jostled through the deepening night, as we pulled out of the big, ugly city. We still had a way to go before reaching our goal. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Look, there it is!” I turned around to face the open window behind me. A dramatic cymbal crash would have been appropriate just then. Quite unexpectedly, I beheld a huge apparition, hardly more than a triangular shadow looming against Cairo’s artificial glare, and caught my breath. Without thinking (my mind seemed paralyzed at the sight), I sensed, in a flash, that the Great Pyramid was, strange to tell, broadcasting on some incredibly powerful frequency. In view of what I since learned, that first impression may have been more insightful than I realized at the time.
From grammar school days, probably a month did not pass when I did not wonder about the Great Pyramid: How was it built, when, by whom and for what purpose? These are questions people have been asking for thousands of years. And I seemed no closer to the answers when I began organizing my research papers about an apparently unrelated subject. In spring, 1995, I was trying to systematize several thick volumes of hand-written notes collected over the previous fifteen years and tens of thousands of travel miles on behalf of investigating the credibility of Atlantis, the lost civilization described by Plato. In the midst of simply cataloging my profuse information, unsummoned and almost of their own accord, all the data I had been storing for a decade and a half suddenly began tumbling out into my everyday thoughts and arranging themselves into patterns and themes previously unconsidered.
Almost at once, every piece fell into place, and some of the hitherto insoluble enigmas of Atlantis and the Great Pyramid stood fully revealed, like twin Athenas sprung mature and in full armor from the forehead of Zeus. I simultaneously saw both mysteries as through a lens that allowed me, for the first time, to behold them in a clear, inter-validating relationship. It was not a question of endeavoring to prove one unknown by another. After all, the Great Pyramid still stands on Egypt’s Giza Plateau, and Atlantis was described by the greatest mind in the Classical World. Who built the Great Pyramid, when, how, and, most importantly, why seemed now self-evident. Determining its true purpose led directly to the identity of its architects and the actual date for its construction.
At first, Atlantis and the Great Pyramid appeared unrelated. Both belonged to the Ancient World—one a “myth” the other a “tomb”—but that seemed the end of it. One single piece of information, however, began to unlock a vast stock-pile of evidence that confirms and elucidates their otherwise unsuspected association: The citadel of Atlantis, where the holy-of-holies was enshrined, as defined by Plato, was the same diameter (seven hundred fifty-eight feet) as the base side of the Great Pyramid. This revelation becomes clear only after the dimensions of the citadel, as given in Greek stadia for Plato’s account, are transposed into an original Egyptian unit of measurement, known as the aroura.
While such a parallel between Atlantis and the Great Pyramid might be coincidental in and of itself, an abundance of related information underscores its validity a thousand times over. If, as many archaeologists suspect, the Pyramid originally sat in the middle of a moat connected by causeways or canals, its physical resemblance to the innermost island, the sacred hub of Atlantis, becomes yet more clear. It would appear that the Great Pyramid was intended to simulate or memorialize the lost holy of holies. The identical dimensions of the Atlantean citadel and the base of the Great Pyramid comprise the first step in a grand staircase leading inevitably to mankind’s most profound historical mystery. But the story of their relationship must, of course, begin in Egypt, where the foremost building on earth reveals itself in ten inescapable conclusions:
1) Geodetic information implicit in the Great Pyramid’s construction demonstrates that its builders knew the size, shape and position of all the continents in such detail that they accurately determined the precise center of the earth’s land-mass.
2) They understood and applied the fundamental nature of telluric or natural “earth-energy” forces.
3) The pyramid builders possessed a technology sufficient to design and build a piezo-electric transducer to harness those forces.
4) Their geologic sciences and construction arts were at least the equal to and in some respects superior to our own.
5) They somehow foresaw some inevitable celestial catastrophe with a potential for extraordinary destructiveness. As the object’s orbit began to noticeably decay, ground-observers concluded that an impact with our planet was unavoidable, and began to prepare for the event by constructing a device that would bolster earth’s ionosphere, thereby deflecting the course of the falling object.
6) The pyramid builders erected their geo-transducer because they understood that the earth was periodically endangered by recurring cycles of celestial bombardments. The Great Pyramid was built to guard against future collisions from outer space.
In his dialogue, The Timaeus, Plato spoke of “a declination of the bodies moving around the earth and in the heavens, and a great conflagration of things upon the earth recurring at long intervals of time.” In the late 1980s, the noted astronomers, Victor Clube and William Napier, showed that the earth passes within general proximity, sometimes much nearer and infrequently through a “cloud” or “swarm” of meteoric debris every early November, still the best time for viewing shooting stars in the northern hemisphere (Cosmic Winter, NY: Doubleday, 1988). They determined that this meteoric cloud is today only a pale remnant of what was formerly a larger, densely packed aggregation of material which periodically threatened our planet with one or more collisions of cataclysmic proportions.
7) No monument, regardless how sacred or politically valuable, would have been important enough to command what amounted to the entire national labor force of a high civilization to build. Even the last of the powerful pharaohs at the end of the New Kingdom, Ramses III (XXth Dynasty, circa 1187 B.C.), was scarcely able to complete his huge “Victory Temple” (Medinet Habu), in Lower Egypt, even though it would hardly amount to a forecourt at the Great Pyramid, because of disruptive strikes by his workers.
Only a national emergency of extraordinary general concern could have summoned what had to have been the participation of virtually every man, woman and child in the construction of a refuge from some apparent, impending catastrophe that threatened all levels of society, if not the whole world. A parallel historical example may be found in the construction of Holland’s emergency dikes, which required the labor of every Dutch citizen to complete in order to save their country from its own great flood.
Moreover, the Great Pyramid does not satisfy descriptions of a tomb, temple, time-capsule or observatory. In spite of its gigantic size, what it does resemble, more than anything else, is a relatively simple piezo-electric transducer, an identity demonstrated by static electricity displays still observed at the structure.
8) Through its deliberate, strategic placement at the center of the world’s land-mass, the Great Pyramid identifies itself as an apparatus to collect and direct the earth’s internal powers, and to outwardly transmute those potentially destructive forces into an electrical energy discharge. It achieves this in the same manner; accumulating seismic pressures are discharged in a phenomenon known as “earthquake lights” or the “Andes Glow.” The Great Pyramid does, in fact, vibrate in harmony with the fundamental frequency of our planet, and therefore “responds to vibrations from within the earth,” according to the renowned Christopher Dunn, whose The Giza Power-Plant (Bear and Company, 1995) is perhaps the single most revealing book ever written about the Pyramid.
9) The Great Pyramid was, in effect, “deactivated,” when its chief component part was stolen during a period of social dislocation in Egyptian history contemporary with the biblical Exodus. That “component part” soon after became the central cult-object, eventually lost, of what was to become a world religion.
10) The Great Pyramid is a device modern technology has not yet invented, namely, an instrument capable of dissipating seismic energies harmful to mankind, and using those same energies to create a reinforced ionospheric shield for our planet against extraterrestrial falls of catastrophic potential.
Other investigators have independently arrived at fundamentally the same conclusion—that the Great Pyramid was an electrical device—but each had his own interpretation of its ultimate purpose. To physicist Joseph Farrell, the Great Pyramid was a weapon. Theoretically, it could have served military purposes, if only on the most limited scale, although controlling its immense, erratic energy output would have been highly impractical in terms of real application. His nonetheless brilliantly insightful The Giza Death-Star (Adventures Unlimited, 2003) does not convincingly demonstrate just how such a “phase conjugate howitzer” might have been “tuned” to hit targets, as the author claimed, from India to Mars. No, the closest match between the Great Pyramid’s design and function lies in its identity as a geo-transducer to serve early Egyptian society’s most pressing need, namely, protection from cataclysmic natural forces from under the earth (seismic violence) and in the sky (meteoric material from menacing comets).
These determinations cascaded all at once into my mind like the abrupt realization of an enigma that had nagged me all my life. It was as though everything I ever studied and wondered about the Great Pyramid for the previous forty years, even after repeatedly visiting the Giza Plateau, suddenly ordered itself into a recognizable mosaic. Among the patterns which began to stand out in bold relief were new themes never before suspected. For example, true “pyramid power” appeared in the guise of spiritual transformation rooted in the internal energies of the earth itself. The motif of a world cataclysm threaded together apparently disparate peoples from southern Iraq and the Nile Valley to the Atlantic Ocean and the Americas. Most surprising of all, a nature-oriented technology developed by some lost race before the accepted beginning of civilization reached out across the millennia to play a potentially pivotal role in our time.
These and other revelations are not mere speculations, but bolstered by evidence for Atlantean influences in Egypt, Mesopotamia and North Africa, as presented in my four published books on the subject. A straight-forward examination of the evidence shows that the Atlanteans created a material culture in some respects superior to and in most aspects entirely different from our own. But their strange technology, however powerful, could not save them from the sudden oblivion that consigned Atlantis to the realm of legend. All this began prior to but also accompanied the official rise of high cultures, some five thousand years ago. The fate of this lost race and the ultimate purpose of their Great Pyramid are interwoven motifs laying bare the roots of our civilization. Those roots are not hidden in the sands of Egypt, but under the dark fathoms of the ocean that derived its name from the lost homeland of mankind.