Hows about glass. Or if not glass, something else, wood, or clay, something frangible…It just strikes me that the imaginings consistently fail to answer questions so maybe we’re all on the wrong track.
Maybe the ancient Egyptians figured out how to liquify then pour stone and the building of it was done with easily constructed and maneuverable wood forms. The same might apply to Easter Island’s mysteries, to Stonehenge.
Let’s say…whoops… humankind simply forgot the formula. Say it used to be done all the time, no big deal. Say some old bricklayer’s journal from a hundred thousand years ago is uncovered. He has written:
“Really this seems a waste of time to me when the bears need herding and the orangery needs a new roof, but the wife wants me to record the formula. She had a dream everybody forgot then the whole city collapsed and a plague came. Boy am I sick of plagues.
“So here it is: To make rocks of granite for building, you first get the granite or whatever you’ve got handy into liquid form so you can work with it easy as pie. ‘Everybody knows that. Try to get some of these modern kids to carve stone, forget about it. So it needs to get into liquid. Do it on Monday, National Look Up At The Cliff day. You climb up to a hill top with your buddies and some good corn liquor and a couple of friendly girls and when you’re all feeling happy and strong you loosen up some big stones from the hill and roll them off the cliff. Try to get them near the workshop. The rock pushing thing always has a sweet effect on the girls. Then you walk down the hill. Then you soak your chunks in sea water and lavender branches, don’t forget the marjoram and a bit of hay, and saffron if you’ve got it, and some like adding tail of lizard but go easy or it’ll never melt. On Tuesday under a full moon (National Take A Bath Today day) everybody from the east meadow Magic Huts of Knowledge and Splendor comes over and spits on the rocks twice while three elders and one comely virgin dance the Make the Stone to Liquid Dance. And don’t forget to make a feast or you never get them back. (Bear is good, some like fish and there’s always one vegetarian; give the mother-in-law something special). You repeat this for two hundred years and you’ve got liquified rock and that’s how we build all the big stuff. Good thing I’m writing this down on cloth. Everybody knows cloth lasts forever. Okay. The bride is happy. I get sweet and sour barbequed mastodon toes for dinner after all.”
The Hawks Perch 