"-- levate portae capita vestra," he's muttering as he turns from the center to face the mausoleum, "et erigite ianuae sempiternae --"

He crouches, makes a fist, holds his arm out over the foremost node -- the one with the shape of the entire schematic reworked in miniature. Braces himself.

Lifts the knife, and draws it carefully along the flesh of his forearm.