A needless foreword
I have read lots of parts of many novels (but couldn't read one through from beginning to end) which were supposed to fly the reader back to the summoned ancient Egypt and the circumstances and set up in the books were really far from reality. Instead - I am inclined to say - they became some weird fusion, a bizarre mixture of look-a-like Egyptian surroundings combined with twentieth century brain sickness infected with its post-christian duality and nineteenth century morals.
I don't want to mention authors but there are some who are much respected for their works and had mass-produced this kind of fake thought-fertilizer which is indeed a crap. If one wants to feed on nineteenth century morals let them read from authors who wrote about the world of their days in the nineteenth century - and not fake-ancient fake-Egyptian stories written in the twentieth century. Right?
I understand it is hard for us to see it clearly, but indeed the people of ancient Egypt didn't share our outlook on life with our short-sightedness of contrapositions. They didn't try to build up a world from only elements of black and white - but they saw the full spectrum with all its colours. Just like in nature.
This short sketch, however, does not intend to rival with any historical and or moral eminences. It's only an impressionistic brain-twist.
Still we can learn from it what lies behind the story of the strangest period of ancient Egypt and why they had changed a lot of things so suddenly that nobody could so far explain.
It must have happened exactly like this.
... or maybe not. :D
The pharaoh and the UFO
Jörg Langsen kept an uneasy eye on the display and the instruments in excess fury. Nothing was right. Jack Malt and himself were throwing shortings and numbers to each other. There weren't any two other pilots getting used to one another like them. Well, it's been for thirteen years they have been sent out on missions together. That's definitely a great deal of time to shake together. Three other members of the staff in the next room didn't quite understand what exactly was going on, though they still could make it out that something went terribly wrong comparing to the original plans. They represented scientists of some kind, experts of their fields, supposed to explore and investigate biological, asteroidological and other features of Ganymede - the moon of Jupiter.
They were still bound in the high atmosphere of the Earth, when something happened and all the instruments have gone crazy. The pilots tried to sort things out, however it seemed almost impossible, since they had also lost contact with the Earth.
Most disturbing it became when last time they got around the globe and still couldn't make out the well known light pollution of the megacities. They should have seen something, but well, it was too dark to be true. What the hell was going on?
Two full cycles they did before quickly deciding for an emergency landing. Getting back to the lower atmosphere they lost control over the ship again a second time and the landing became a full blind flight and an almost-crash. They missed the planned landing site, too. All-around them only sand- Is it Arizona?
"For Mars' sake! Which continent is this at all?" - frowned Langsen, while simply opening up the outer door of the ship, without taking precautions of using the airlocks.
"Maybe Africa, but it's only a guess" - answered Malt.
"Then would you mind informing us about the course of events?" - asked shakily the balding, thin biochemist Alex Meinhemmer.
The pharaoh himself, with his naked eyes, happened to see the gods themselves descend with the firebird. There was no time to waste, they cannot be made to wait. What a shame they had to meet them so unprepared. True though, the gods hadn't given a sign of their coming either.
Meinhemmer was first to catch sight of the approaching men.
Langsen slowly respired. Men! Civilization again! Hurray! He wanted to get some explanations from his earthly colleagues, but even more he wanted to get an end to this nightmare here in this gigantic sanding-furnace. Nobody likes to wait and wait next to the spaceship in the desert for hours after an emergency-landing. Soon they can sip some earthly wine in a nearby hotel after an abundant supper-feast.
While thinking this over, they were checking the circuits once again with Malt, speaking their own language of shortings and numbers that no-one else understood. .
They didn't even look at the stranger stepping next to them till the moment they heard him speak - a completely alien and unheard language.
Malt had discovered something in this very instant and shouted to him.
"Eight was not on."
The stranger fell silent.
Kneeling and standing by the firebird, behold, there were the gods themselves - well, five of them to be more specific about the details - wearing their strange garments. One of them was busy with healing the wounds on the firebird's belly, another at her side. The rest were doing-, well, doing nothing specific or recognizable.
Amenhotep IV the newly crowned king stepped there next to them.
"Welcome to Upper and Lower Egypt, all you celestial hosts, all you gods, whom we adore. Behold, I am king of this land, chosen by you, king of Lower and Upper Egypt, son of Ra the sun-god, chosen one of Amon, my name is-"
And behold, the god which was busy with healing the wound on the belly of the firebird opened up his mouth:
Words stuck in him in astonishment.
So, based on what has just happened, we can conclude the gods want to show a new direction to Egypt, because the name is the substance of everything. And by changing the name-
His mind was racing. The name is the substance, it is the most important bit. It tells one everything about its owner. And the gods now gave him his new name. This is then the reason for their coming-
Malt looked up. It wasn't the silence that bothered him, it was the lack of answer.
"The hell" - he thought. He hadn't seen people dressed like this anywhere else than in Cairo Museum. Astonishment reached its peak in all of them. These fellows are either true, and then it's a terrific disaster, or maybe there is a mental home nearby where they cannot afford a Napoleon.
These fellas must be the guards of the pharaoh, and this one the pharaoh himself. If they are insane, they use a common dresscode. And look, there's a pretty busty brunette here, too. Nice tits! But what is she afraid of?
"No fear, titty!" - the words bubbled out of him easily, then he went puzzled.
And another name, for his wife this time. Nefertiti. Capital!
What a day it is, when the gods announce and declare - through these names - their good will toward men!
"Life, glory, health!" - the pharaoh took courage and started to shout for joy while reaching out his hands toward the gods.
While recoiling, Malt bubbled out some swearing and waved to Langsen to close contact at eight and to the others to move quickly to the door so that they could leave as quickly as possible. This madman is about to attack them and the madhouse bodyguards might cut the Ganymede expedition short. Nobody wants that. Who the hell are these at all? Is there really an asylum there beyond the sandhills? Or did they fly back in time instead of space and might all this be true? They mustn't even think of it! After the quickest getting in and setting off they were soon out in space, without a problem, however adrenaline was still working in them and they kept silent for long.
"This bloody eight was the problem. Hadn't been on. Now we're not stopping till big marble old Jupiter!" - it was Langsen who broke the silence at last, after an hour.
"The gods have visited us today to announce our new names, to show us a new direction in politics and religion of Egypt, which will certainly be helping us out of this present economic meltdown that's been not only our heritage but the result of faulty operations of the past governing cycles." - the first man of Upper and Lower Egypt shaped the words carefully to the golden microphone of Trans-Kemet Television Broadcasting Network.