Tomorrow’s Foreman Thanos Kalamidas Tomorrow’s Foreman H i s t o r i c t i d e s Thanos Kalamidas Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Tomorrow’s Foreman Tomorrow’s Foreman Thanos Kalamidas Thanos Kalamidas An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Tomorrow’s Foreman i t was supposed to be a routine scan. dr. Nora Whitman stood beneath the blazing egyptian sun, sweat trickling down her back like a desert river as she adjusted the sensor unit on her tripod. The experimental resonance scanner was humming, capturing subsonic vibrations from be- neath the sand, anomalies in the limestone bedrock that had recently confounded even the most sea- soned of archaeologists. The scan would reveal se- crets untouched for four thousand years. “i swear if this thing cooks my kidneys, i’m suing Mit,” she muttered, squinting at the jagged wave- form dancing on her tablet. Thanos Kalamidas “do kidneys usually hum ?” asked her grad student, Mark, handing her a bottle of water. Before she could respond, the scanner flashed blue, then white. A high-pitched chime, like the world’s angriest tuning fork, pierced the air. Nora felt her body lift, a feather in a sandstorm, the desert around her bleeding into a whirl of noise and blinding light. And then ... silence. * * * * * * * The air smelled of sweat, fire, and crushed stone. A heavy wind kicked up dust, and Nora coughed, blinking against the sun. she was no longer in the neat excavation site roped off with plastic cones and multilingual warning signs. The terrain was the same, but the landscape was not. Where once there were tour buses and selfie sticks, now there were ox-drawn carts, sweating men in loincloths, and the unmistak- able sound of chisels on limestone. standing before her... no, towering was a structure halfway to heaven. Not the weathered and chipped icon of modern photography, but a gleaming, sharp-angled pyramid, each block precisely aligned, fresh from the quarry. Workers swarmed like ants, Tomorrow’s Foreman pulling ropes, hammering stone, and shouting in a dialect that should have been dead for millennia. “...son of a sphinx,” Nora whispered. she had time-travelled. somehow. definitely not covered in her doctorate. “out of the way, woman!” barked a voice. Nora turned just in time to dodge a sled laden with stone, pushed by three muscular labourers and an overseer whose face was half burnt from the sun. His eyes narrowed at her. “You! What unit are you from?” he demanded. Nora straightened. “Uh. Visiting consultant?” He looked her up and down, noting her hiking boots, cargo shorts, and Mit t-shirt, now covered in sand. “she belongs to no crew. Thief, perhaps?” someone muttered behind her. “Hold on,” she said quickly. “i’m... i’m a builder. Foreman. i’m here from... Pharaoh’s northern divi- sion.” she tapped her tablet, which, by some miracle, still blinked to life. “Advanced stone placement logis- tics.” Thanos Kalamidas The overseer leaned in, suspicious. “And what manner of scribe carries a glowing tablet like a box of light?” “Prototype,” she offered. “divine math. speeds up construction.” A few murmurs passed through the surrounding crowd. The egyptians were no fools, but they also weren’t unfamiliar with the idea of divine tools and signs. The foreman’s expression shifted from aggres- sion to caution. “Prove it,” he said. “our sleds get stuck in sand. You fix that, or you’ll be thrown to the crocodiles.” “Great. No pressure,” Nora muttered. * * * * * * * By nightfall, she was working under torchlight, using sticks to draw in the sand. she remembered a theory debated in lectures that the ancient workers used wet sand to reduce friction when dragging mas- sive stones. it had always sounded too simple. But simple was exactly what worked. she organized a trial the next morning, directing a Tomorrow’s Foreman team to pour small amounts of water before the sled. The change was immediate, easier pulling, less resis- tance, and fewer workers needed. The overseer watched with wide eyes. “By Amun,” he whispered. “You are sent by the gods.” The rumours spread faster than the Nile at flood. soon she was consulting with the high architect, He- mienu himself, a shrewd man with sharp eyes and an infuriating habit of quoting celestial alignments mid-sentence. “You speak strange,” Hemienu said, examining her notebook. “But your numbers, angles, weights, they make sense. i have never seen such clarity.” “trigonometry,” Nora said, trying not to grin. “it’s the rage in 21st-century academia.” Hemienu furrowed his brow. “twenty-first what?” “don’t worry about it.” With Nora’s suggestions, minor but effective mod- ifications swept through the site. ramps were re- aligned. Workers were rotated to avoid fatigue. even Thanos Kalamidas pulley-like mechanisms, adapted from knowledge centuries ahead of its time, were trailed under her guidance. each day brought new challenges: convincing sceptical priests, avoiding suspicions of witchcraft, keeping her now-dying tablet out of curious hands. Yet Nora was oddly at home—surrounded by intel- ligent, curious builders who respected what worked and didn’t care where it came from. And then there was Menka, a young stonemason with a crooked smile and the audacity to wink at her across the quarry. “You are unlike any foreman i have known,” he said one dusk, passing her a flatbread. “You do not shout. You listen.” “Novel concept, huh?” she replied, smiling despite herself. “do all builders where you come from speak to stones as if they are friends?” “only the good ones.” * * * * * * * Tomorrow’s Foreman But time, Nora knew, was running out. Her tablet was nearly dead, the sun too harsh for its weak solar panel. she had no clue if she’d ever return or if the wormhole or anomaly that brought her here would open again. Then came the night of the eclipse. “The gods are watching,” whispered one priest, bowing as the sun darkened. “tonight, the veil be- tween worlds thins.” Nora stood alone atop the nearly completed pyra- mid, watching the sky bleed into shadow. she had no idea what to do but something in her bones told her that this was the moment. The scanner. The frequency. The anomaly. she pulled out the tablet, dim but still responsive, and activated the last scan. A pulse echoed through the limestone. The same hum from before. Light. Vertigo. And suddenly, the buzz of tour buses and an excit- ed Mark filled her ears. Thanos Kalamidas “Nora? You okay? You just... vanished! For like two seconds!” she blinked. two seconds? The site was unchanged. Her scanner intact. Her body unharmed. But her pocket felt heavier. she reached in and pulled out a perfectly cut piece of white limestone, its edges carved with markings no archaeologist had ever seen: a simple message, etched by a familiar hand. “dr. Whitman, our strange foreman. The gods took you, but the stones remember. Hemienu.” Nora stared, stunned. in the distance, the worn edges of the Great Pyramid shimmered in the heat, timeless and still standing tall. she smiled. “Well,” she whispered, brushing the dust off her shirt, “guess i made tenure.” Tomorrow’s Foreman Tomorrow’s Foreman Historic Tides Thanos Kalamidas Ovi eBook Publishing 2025 Ovi magazine Design: Thanos Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Thanos Kalamidas Thanos Kalamidas Tomorrow’s Foreman H i s t o r i c t i d e s Thanos Kalamidas , a multipublished writer, cartoonist and illustrator; born and grew up in a picturesque neighbourhood on the moun- tainside of Hymettus in Athens, Greece. Then his life took him to Berlin, Germany and to London, UK for studies. After a brief stay in Yorkshire he moved his life to Paris, France while working in Tokyo, Japan and in Cape Town, South Africa. In the last 25 years he became a permanent Scandinavian resident and recently, in his glorious sixth de- cade, he moved to a scenic village in the Växjö area.