The seals didn’t hiss when they closed. They clicked. A thousand magnetic deadbolts finding their home in the dark. We are inside the pyramid now—the lab, the museum, the tomb. The air has already begun to taste of recycled oxygen and copper. There was no panic. Panic requires a lack of information, and the procedures here are too perfect for that. We were told to stay. We stayed. The external lines are silent. Not cut. Not jammed. Simply... empty. As if the dial tone itself had decided to stop existing.