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“What’s on the far side?” Menzies asked.
“A storeroom,” said DeMeo, “currently empty. We’re converting it to a control room.”
Lipper cleared his throat, forestalling any more interruptions by DeMeo. “In act 2, visitors will see the digitized images of the robbers bridging the well so they can break the second sealed door. A screen will lower on the far side of the well-unseen to the visitors, of course. Then a holographic projector in the far corner will project images of the robbers in the passageway ahead, carrying burning torches, breaking the seals of the i
“Lara Croft, watch out!” DeMeo said, looking around and laughing at his witticism.
The group entered the burial chamber, where Lipper paused again. “The visitors will hear things before they see anything-breakage, shouting. As they enter this end of the burial chamber, they’ll be stopped by a gate, here. And then the main event begins. First, it’s dark, with frightened, excited voices. Then more smashing and breaking. A sudden flare, and another, and the torches are lit up. We see the sweaty, terrified, avaricious faces of the priests. And gold! Everywhere, the gleam of gold.” He turned to Wicherly. “Just as you wrote in the script.”
“Excellent!”
“As the torches are lit, the computer-controlled lighting will come up, dimly illuminating parts of the burial chamber. The thieves will shove off and smash the stone lid of the sarcophagus. Then they’ll hoist up the top of the i
“That’s the climax,” said Menzies, breaking in excitedly. “That’s where I want the peal of thunder, the strobes simulating flashes of lightning.”
“And you’ll have it,” DeMeo said. “We got a complete Dolby Surround and Pro Logic II sound system and four Chauvet Mega II 750-watt strobes, along with a bunch of spots. All controlled by a twenty-four-cha
He looked around proudly, as if he knew what the hell he was talking about instead of, once again, quoting verbatim from Lipper’s carefully designed specs. God, Lipper couldn’t stand him. He waited a moment before resuming.
“After the light and thunder, the holographic projectors will switch back on, and we’ll see Senef himself rise from the sarcophagus. The priests will fall back, terrified. This is all meant to be in their minds, what they imagine, as was written in the script.”
“But it will be realistic?” Nora asked, frowning. “Not hokey?”
“It’ll all be 3-D, and the holographic images are a bit like ghosts-you can see through them, but only when there’s strong light behind. We’ll manipulate the light levels very carefully to exploit that illusion. Some of it’s video-based, some of it C.G. Anyway, Senef rises, violated, and points a finger. To more flashes of lightning and thunder, he speaks of his life, what he has done, what a great regent and vizier he was to Thutmosis, and of course, this is where you slip in the educational stuff.”
“Meanwhile,” said DeMeo, “we’ve got a 500-watt Jem Glaciator hidden in the sarcophagus, pumping out an awesome ground fog. Two thousand cubic feet a minute.”
“My script doesn’t call for artificial smoke,” said Wicherly. “This could damage the paintings.”
“The Jem system uses only environmentally friendly fluids,” Lipper said. “Guaranteed not to chemically alter anything.”
Nora Kelly was frowning again. “Forgive me for raising this question, but is this level of theatricality really necessary?”
Menzies turned to her. “Why, Nora! This was your idea to begin with.”
“I was imagining something lower-key, not strobe lights and fog machines.”
Menzies chuckled. “As long as we’re going this route, Nora, we should do it right. Trust me, we’re creating an unforgettable educational experience. It’s a marvelous way to slip a little learning to the vulgus mobile without them ever realizing it.”
Nora continued to look doubtful, but said nothing further.
Lipper resumed. “As Senef speaks, the robbers fall to the floor in terror. Then Senef melts back into his sarcophagus, the robbers vanish, the holographic screens retract, the lights come up-and suddenly the tomb is as it was, before the robbery. A museum exhibit once again. The gate slides back and the visitors are free to tour the burial chamber as if nothing had happened.”
Menzies raised a finger. “But they will do so having gained an appreciation of Senef and been entertained in the process. Now for the million-dollar question: can you finish by deadline?”
“We’ve already outsourced as much of the programming as possible,” Lipper said. “The electrical staff are working flat out. I’d say we can have it installed and ready for alpha testing in four days.”
“That’s excellent.”
“And then comes the debugging.”
Menzies cocked his head questioningly. “Debugging?”
“That’s the killer. A rule of thumb says the debugging takes twice as long as the original programming.”
“Eight days?”
Lipper nodded, uneasy from the sudden darkening of Menzies’s face.
“Four plus eight is twelve-two days before the gala opening. Can you finish the debugging in five?”
Something in Menzies’s tone led Lipper to think it was more an order than a question. He swallowed: the schedule already verged on the insane. “We’ll certainly try.”
“Good. Now, let’s talk for a minute about the opening. Dr. Kelly suggested we duplicate the original opening in 1872, and I wholeheartedly concurred. We are pla
“How many are we talking about?” Lipper asked.
“Six hundred.”
“Obviously we’re not going to fit six hundred people into the tomb at one time,” Lipper said. “I’ve been estimating two hundred at a go for the sound-and-light show, which lasts about twenty minutes, but we could up that to, say, three hundred for the opening.”
“Fine,” said Menzies. “We’ll divide them into two groups. The first in, of course, will be the A-list: the mayor, governor, senators and congressmen, the museum’s top brass, the biggest patrons, movie stars. With two showings, we’ll get guests through the exhibit within an hour. Finish off the entire crowd.” He looked from Lipper to DeMeo. “You two are crucial. There can’t be any mistakes. Everything’s riding on you finishing that sound-and-light show on time. Four days plus five: that’s nine days.”
“I’ve got no problem,” said DeMeo, all smiles and self-confidence: gofer and cable-puller extraordinaire.
Those disquieting blue eyes now turned back to Lipper. “And you, Mr. Lipper?”
“It’ll happen.”
“Delighted to hear it. I trust you’ll keep me up-to-date with progress reports?”
They nodded.
Menzies glanced at his watch. “Nora, if you’ll excuse me, I have to catch a train. I’ll check in with you later.”
Menzies and the curators were gone, leaving Lipper alone with DeMeo once again. He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get going, DeMeo, because I’d like to get to sleep tonight before four A.M. for a change.”
“What about Darkmord?” DeMeo asked. “You promised to have the band of warriors ready for the attack by midnight.”
Lipper groaned. Shit. They would just have to launch the attack on Castle Gloaming without him.