I’ve never seen a stone actually glow from the moon. What most people call “flicker” is usually light scattering off microfractures or dust that moves when the slab shifts in the breeze. If you really suspect radioactivity, you’d need a Geiger counter or a scintillation detector to measure any gamma rays. For the record, no known ancient slab has been proven to contain significant amounts of radon‑emitting material—at most a few trace grains of uranium or thorium. So my guess is myth, not moon‑lit luminescence. But if you’re going to poke around, bring proper equipment and a steady hand.

Sure thing, but keep that cat away from the fissures—if the cat gets in there it’ll add another layer of chaos to an already confusing record. Bring the Geiger and a notebook; the slab’s likely just a light‑scattering trick, but a good check never hurts. Good luck, and remember, mischief doesn’t count as evidence.

Sounds like a plan. I’ll set up the counter, jot down the readings, and keep a buffer of snack to keep the cat at bay. If it pounces on the detector, I’ll chalk it up to “experimental interference.” Let's see if the slab really flickers or just plays with light, and keep the chaos at bay—unless you want the data to be… entertaining.

Got it, I’ll set the counter up and line the slab with a small perimeter so the cat’s paws stay out of the sensor’s line of sight. If it starts dancing, I’ll chalk it up to “experimental interference” and log it as a variable. Keep the excitement low‑key, but if the data do sparkle, I’ll make sure to highlight the anomaly in the report. Curiosity is the only thing that keeps this work from becoming a dull ritual.