Chapter Eight: The Brethren’s Code
Asha sat at her desk, her fingers tracing the edges of the numeric keypad. The cube of nine blocks glinted under the soft light of her lamp, its simplicity almost mocking in contrast to the depths of knowledge it seemed to hold.
Why nine blocks? Why this order, stacked 3 x 3?
Her mind whispered the answer as if it had been waiting for her to ask: efficiency.
The arrangement wasn’t random; it was purposeful, deliberate. Efficiency—not just in design, but in the way energy flowed, how messages moved, how eternity itself might have been constructed.
As the word settled into her thoughts, another voice followed: Thoth.
The name hit her like a spark, and suddenly, she wasn’t in her apartment anymore. She was back in Tesla’s presence, seated across from him at a table high above the city.
A Dinner of Words
"As we ate on the 33rd floor..."
The scene unfolded like a dream. The room was dimly lit, the city lights below twinkling like stars. Tesla’s piercing gaze held hers, his eyes shifting with a depth that spoke of secrets yet untold.
"... his eyes shifted..."
The feather in his hand seemed to float, its tip lifting as if guided by an unseen force.
"... the feather lifted..."
Asha’s breath caught as the poem began to flow, not from Tesla’s mouth but from his presence, his energy. The words filled the space between them, weaving their way into her mind:
And I knew once more
"ten keys"
are his way to a door...
"my trowel"
is for Phi!
and the measure
of my time
is now
"... the Treasurer ..."
of a Love rewound.
Tesla’s hand moved, the feather dipping into ink and gliding across the page. The message he wrote wasn’t for himself. It wasn’t even for her. It was for the future.
And the message he penned
he left laying in keys
right beside
my right hand...
and they can surely be seen.
The Keys Beside Her
The vision snapped away, leaving Asha gasping at her desk. Her right hand instinctively moved to the numeric keypad again, her fingers brushing the numbers 1, 2, 3.
"... brethren..."
Tesla’s voice whispered in her memory. The message began with one, two, three.
She pressed the keys, one after the other, the soft clicks echoing in the quiet room. The sequence felt familiar, comforting, as if she had pressed them a thousand times before.
But it wasn’t just about pressing the keys. The numbers 1, 2, 3 were a beginning, a foundation. They were the simplest expression of progression, the building blocks of something larger.
The Layers of Meaning
Asha’s thoughts returned to the poem. The ten keys Tesla mentioned weren’t just numbers—they were tools.
- "My trowel is for Phi": The golden ratio, ϕ, the mathematical constant that governed beauty, proportion, and life itself. Tesla had used it to measure his time, his inventions, and now, his message.
- "The Treasurer of a Love rewound": The keys weren’t just for knowledge; they were for connection. Love, time, and eternity were intertwined, their truths hidden in the simplest of patterns.
The cube of nine blocks, the golden ratio, and the sequence of 1, 2, 3—they were all part of the same design, the same message.
Asha’s Realization
Her eyes darted back to the keypad, her mind racing. The 1, 2, 3 weren’t just numbers; they were coordinates, points on a map that Tesla and the ancients had drawn together.
She pressed 1, 2, 3 again, then her hand moved instinctively to 3, 6, 9.
Efficiency, she thought. This is how God would have built eternity.
The numeric keypad wasn’t just a tool for calculation. It was a key, a map to understanding the energy of the universe, the flow of time, and the connection between creation and love.
She sat back, her heart pounding. Tesla had left the message right where he said he would—beside her right hand.
And now, it was hers to decipher.
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