Titan Race

by Edentu D Oroso

  Tonka Manu, therefore, began to invoke the forces governing creation at the faint border between the spiritual and the physical worlds.

  # # #

  The first forecast of changing weather came over Radio Ditara. The brief broadcast warned of fast-roving storm clouds on a diagonal sweep across Atlantis. It was reported as a strong front built up in the raging currents of the Deemen Sea. It made a steady incursion inland two nautical miles east of the sea port of Ditara. The forecast placed the storm high on the Songhaian scales as herald to a hurricane expected to trounce the easternmost bounds of Ditara during the third hour in the second phase of the day. Atlanteans were advised to secure their homes within the shortest possible time. DitaraTel, the television arm of Ditara Broadcasting Centre (DBC), captured the fierce front of the sweeping clouds in their garnered palls and vicious whistling drift inland. A tentative curfew imposed on air, land and sea traffic exempted a few deserving cases on land.

  Tonka heard the broadcast over Radio Ditara at the patio while trying to catch a glimpse of the initial flickers of what he had invoked at the sanctuary twenty minutes earlier. He backed away from the banisters and sought the arc of mosaic slab at a corner of the patio with stacks of monitors.

  He got there just as the DitaraTel featured the hurricane. Both news items inflated his pride in Atlantis as the melting pot of science and technology. Its progress in this regard enchanted him as would any mortal. A few swirls and the news would spread all over Atlantis, with intensive counter-measures being put in place.

  The telecommunication networks were reliable and well prepared against natural disasters of this magnitude, though unprecedented. This storm, Tonka conceded, was different from the whirlpools detected in the past. A queer grin panned out on his lips. This was not even the main scenario expected. He would have the last laugh.

  Chapter Eight

  All radio and television networks in Atlantis reported the encroaching gale at intervals of three to five swirls. The Songhai Waves made its last broadcast sixty swirls short of the main incursion on the borders of Ditara. Atlanteans could not fathom the extent of the havoc.

  Meteorological computations at the Ecology Evaluation Centre had shown that the gale could be managed and would not cause much structural damage. But the frightening television coverage of the storm stunned Atlanteans. This uncommon dance of nature left them trembling indoors.

  From the timing of the storm, they had just about sixty swirls of peace before it would unleash its force. From behind closed doors, Atlanteans watched the televised scenes of the intrusive howling wind. The unpredictable storm enforced its own kind of curfew, and the wide, glamorous streets were deserted, the airspace cleared of traffic.

  Not quite thirty swirls afterwards, the storm swept towards Ditara, devouring all it touched. Tullami and Daya watched the fierce battering of Ditara, the political base of Atlantis. They had been busy in the communication room at the basement of Tonka's mansion, monitoring the storm for upwards of eighty swirls. The ferocious display of nature’s prowess surprised them, for it was unlike anything they had seen.

  “It came first as a dream that would phase out soon,” a DitaraTel anchor-man reported, his words dripping with emotion. “But now we are stuck with it. The earlier storm which trampled the front east of Ditara, sixty-two nautical miles from here, has overwhelmed our city. The storm heralds a hurricane, and if it doesn’t subside soon, Atlantis will be shaken to its core. So far, thankfully, there has been no recorded casualty or property damage. There is persistent blinding dust and debris in the storm’s wake. But it is safe, provided people do not leave their homes. We will now go over to the frontiers of the storm to show you what is going on." The reporter paused.

  The cameras zoomed in on the storm as it gurgled inland. A bust of thick dust and debris flew in varied swirls, splattering against buildings and with haze that impaired vision. Trees, luxuriant gardens, and poles bowed to the swift wind. Even buildings were forced into a dizzy infernal dance, testing the resilience of Atlantean engineering.

  The scene light flicked and the reporter reappeared. "The worst phase of the storm is yet to come, but it is believed it won’t cause more damage. Stay tuned and we will bring you the swirl-by-swirl onslaught. I’m Tinko Jalu, reporting for DitaraTel News."

  Tullami turned to Daya, seeking something inspiring and brighter than the harrowing scenes. "Do you suppose Tonka Manu is doing anything positive about this storm?" he whispered, afraid that other inner circle members might hear his words and ascribe different meanings to them.

  Daya shook his head. "I’m just as curious as you are," he whispered back. "We have to find out quickly.”

  "Yeah. This phenomenon I reckon is an uncanny invocation. Don’t ask me whose."

  Daya got the hint. "It’s as if you peeped into my mind. Do you think the reception lounge situation has anything to do with this?"

  Tullami hesitated. "Maybe. It doesn't seem like a coincidence. My experience tells me there’s more to this."

  "We are on the same page,” Daya said, nodding. “I’ll go check up with the Manu before this thing reaches Songhai and everywhere else."

  "I’ll hang around here to keep tab on the screens till you return," Tullami volunteered, riveting to the screens.

  Daya hurried out of the communication room and climbed up the flight of stairs in search of Tonka.

  # # #

  Five swirls on the dot, all the Guardians summoned for the Blackhole meeting had gathered in the outer chamber of the Disk Center’s Wisdom Hall with the exception of Finia. The Guardians rose, ushering Numa, Blackhole’s bright-eyed enigma and patron, ageless in spite of his thick forest of gray beard, hoary hair and stooping stead.

  The Wisdom Hall was dazzling and timeless in its grandeur. The Guardians' abstract attire and illusory wings reflected its ivory texture, with the flaming shades of their hair and skin color speckling the cream décor.

  The Guardians watched Numa wade through a snow-like drift of ankle-deep gas till he got to the front of a crescent formation of seats. He stopped by his stellar throne before the circle of Guardians.

  Contrary to expectations, Numa did not occupy it. Instead, with one hand he held its backrest, and, with the other, balanced his frail physique with a firm clutch of his scepter. When he noticed the Guardians standing, he signalled them to sit. He then paced along the front row of the guests, brooding over the coming calamity.

  Numa knew displacing any component of the cosmos would exact a rebound on the entire system. However, this game of restructuring Atlantis, their PlayToy, took after the Guardians’ own model in spite of what Finia had caused at the moment. He knew too that the plan had to be modified in the interest of the Guardians.

  Numa stopped his prancing near his seat, and broke his deep silence. "Guardians, we proceed with our planetary intercession and realignment scheme right away,” he announced. “If we wait a swirl longer, be sure we will be dealing with chaos as robust as the cosmic tree. We have an incarnate Guardian in Atlantis whose anger, evoked by the timid wiles of man, brings us close to an unscheduled action. Of course, we have no other duty than to contain him and the amplifying chaos as it affects the globe and the entire universe. Atlantis is broiling at this moment. Keen observers would tell of the turbulence there. What you’d call the signals of a violent end has been stirred by our Atlantis Guardian. Though our human stock with all their wit, least suspect his intentions and what catastrophe lies ahead.”

  Numa took guarded but bold steps away from his seat, still clutching his scepter. "Vacillation is over,” he went on in a mellow tone. “We must go back to the drawing board to review Atlantis, the interrelating planets in the galaxy, and all the cosmic strands. From our observations of the prevailing conditions, we haven’t got much time. Our maneuvre begins without delay after we’ve heard from the hierarchies of the sister planets in the galaxy. We will preced
e this with a trip to Atlantis via the Command Module."

  Numa backed off a few steps leading to a small platform, with a screen backdrop sprawled across the wall.

  "Here’s a situation report of the tempest in Atlantis,” he said, pointing his scepter at the screen activated by thought waves. “I presume you are all aware of the steps the Atlantis Guardian has taken."

  The orbital loop of nine planets around the sun amidst a sea of stars appeared on the screen. The Guardians shifted their focus from the stars to the spherical mass of condensed energy known as Atlantis, and closer still, till the coarse dust of Atlantis and its load of civilization surfaced.

  “This is Atlantis, our playhouse. There you see the stock of beings we’ve carefully nurtured for some eons. On focus is a renowned human city. Look over here," Numa said, pointing his scepter at a cluster of edifices covering half the screen – architecture, magnificent beyond human ingenuity.

  "This whole area, called Dhusa, is a typical Atlantis city. Most Atlantean inventions originate here. In Atlantean parlance, Songhai lie one thousand five hundred phantoms southwest of Dhusa. Songhai is the spiritual haven of our Guardian. Right now there’s a wild storm, a hurricane front, sweeping over Atlantis. It has rocked half of Atlantis but is yet to reach Songhai – just over here.” The screen flicked and Songhai emerged.

  "The windstorm which is a few phantoms beyond Sondibo and the adjoining commercial town of Tulla–" the bizarre front of the storm came on focus – “is only a child play of our Guardian’s havoc. We lay no blame on him though. You know too well why this is so. He belongs here in the Blackhole. He’s one string we’ve pulled to redirect the rolling cart of Atlantis. He seems to be doing a solo dance nevertheless, deaf to our sanction and blind to our schedule. We think his unilateral action is out of order. Anyway, we’ll see to this in due course."

  Numa left the flashing screen and walked down the platform. "So much has gone into the making of this playhouse and everything else we see," he flaunted on, halting behind his chair. "Our efforts will come to naught if we procrastinate in pruning our wild seeds and upgrade their intelligence in their ascent up the ladder of consciousness.”

  "Guardians,” he continued, with a more assertive edge to his voice, “I mean seeds that exhibit sterling traits, gem seeds. These must be given the chance to live again in finer conditions than what prevails on this little globe called Atlantis." He waved toward the backdrop. "They must be replanted according to our plan because by the time the real picture of the chaos in Atlantis emerges - just a flash of calm after the hurricane – there’ll be nothing left to save or re-culture. There’ll be no PlayToy to task our sensibilities other than this disturbing warp, an emptiness we will have to put back in variant shapes someday. We need few humans. We will prepare a few humans from the lot of Atlantis to start a new race.

  “I don’t need to goad you on the roles each of you has to play to bring our scheme to fruition. Still, it is normal to refresh our minds with details of our individual tasks. I’ll restate in broad terms the nature of the operation and leave trifle details to the appropriate departments to handle as the meeting progresses.

  “If the hierarchies of Atlantis’ sister planets are present, we would like to know from them the prevailing trend with their stock of beings and the general ecology. That would be our yardstick for selecting the species, human and otherwise, which we’ll use to repopulate Atlantis in the nascent dispensation along with the few survivors from moribund Atlantis. Those, we will displace, willy-nilly. Their souls will be given a place to hibernate and live out their mistakes till a desired maturity is attained. Perhaps then we can cloak them in finer bodies and see how well they fare. More of this later. Now who speaks first?"

  # # #

  Tonka Manu soon became bored with his watch of the flickering screens at the patio's arc of marble slab where he monitored the windstorm. An impulse to head to his sanctuary after the telecast of the raging windstorm on DitaraTel had the better of him. The significance, however, of his glimpses of the far horizon, the evil import of the burst of wind, was something he could not just take his mind away from. It blew too much weight on the mind to bear. Nonetheless, he moved away from the circle of the noisy monitors and the gadgetry contrivances on the slab to the more serene poolside.

  He rested his bulk on a marble pillar, one of several mosaic marvels that formed a ring around the entire patio. They held the load of chandeliers on the engraved, gleaming ceiling boards of the wonderful dome-like canopy. Time sped by. Nature continued with its fiery rebellion. Tonka knew only an inconceivable flash of time remained before this song of destruction climaxed and took Atlantis with its ending notes. Yet he stood waiting for the caress of the inevitable.

  A brisk movement behind him caught his attention.

  "Long live the Manu!" Daya curtsied as Tonka turned to acknowledge the stealthy intruder.

  Tonka nodded, replying discernibly, "Daya, your mind is troubled. Are you here because of the garnering force of the elements, the avenging wind?" He moved away from the edge of the patio.

  "Yes, Manu," Daya responded in a cool, diffident tone, trailing behind Tonka. They came to a halt by the hedge of marble linking the ring of pillars.

  "What worries you?" Tonka asked, focusing on the gathering dark clouds in the horizon.

  Daya hesitated somewhat. "I was wondering if the Manu is doing anything about it....It appears violent, so out of order and...." Something clinked in Daya’s heart and sounded on a note he thought was irreverent. He could not say if he had not provoked the Manu with his question.

  Tonka observed Daya with a hidden admiration. The young man’s concern touched a soft spot in him. "It’s a good thing you found time to ask me about it. I’ll always remember that. And to assuage your curiosity, you’d be pleased to know I’m not in any sense unconcerned about the windstorm."

  Daya spurred. "I feel flattered, Manu. This news has taken some burden off my heart. I wasn’t the only one that was worried though. Your answer has cleared our doubts. I think I better leave you to quiet contemplation. I’m sorry to have disturbed you in the first place."

  "Daya, wait," Tonka called out.

  Daya stiffened between strides as if the breath of his life had been denied him.

  "I meant something else when I said I’m not unconcerned about the windstorm."

  Daya regained his confidence from the confusion the Manu’s call and dual meaning of words gave him.

  "I see," he said.

  Tonka walked up to Daya and placed a hand on his shoulder sensing the youngman’s incomprehension.

  "Daya, look at all that our civilization has gone through perceptively and you’ll feel the level of despoliation,” Tonka said. “No doubt Atlantis has been despoiled beyond redemption. The guardian forces of Atlantis are angry. What we are witnessing at the moment is their swift move to put the stable in order.”

  Daya’s brow kneaded. "You mean the storm is a divine will?" he demanded daring to lock eyes with the Manu’s probing gaze.

  "Whatever allusion you arrive at would fit the situation just fine."

  "Then it doesn’t seem too grim after all."

  "Not as you think. There’s nothing anyone can do now to stop the tide of events to come."

  Tonka retrieved his hand from Daya’s shoulder and went to the pool side.

  Daya recognized Tonka’s manner as foreboding.

  Tonka halted, turning, he glanced at the frightened crease on Daya’s face. "It's too late now. Just too late. Atlantis is now on an irreversible course of renewal."

  These words, to the best of Daya's understanding, dealt fate’s unwelcome blows. In the flurry of uppercuts, however, he had ample chance to decide which way he would dangle the little speck of his life in the fast paced pendulum of fate. And yet he lacked the faintest idea where the vital anchor should be. The rhetoric of the past, the be
auty and absurdity of the present, and the mystique of the future stared at him like one hazy picture. His helplessness in the face of imminent danger frightened him.

  "Remember one thing, the journey of your life from now onwards, remains inward," Tonka goaded. "This I’d tried for so many years to emphasize. Well, time has come for us to apply what we’ve learnt all along. Daya, always listen to your inner-self from this moment onwards. Whatever guidance you think you need to scale the heights of the change imminent, you’ll always get inwards. Don’t listen to the appeal of the chaos on the outside, it’s deceptive and leads to self-destruction. Listen to your inner-self - there you'll find a new destiny should Atlantis go berserk. Now hurry and inform every member of the inner circle to go and meditate without delay in the sanctuary for residents. This is a priority. It’s the only chance left if souls are to be planted for a new civilization. Hurry, go and meditate. The tide is high!"

  Daya, emboldened, rushed out of the patio. Tonka took a baleful breath, waited till Daya was out of sight, and then hushed himself away from the pool side, heading to his sanctuary. Time to select new seeds for replanting,” he thought.

  # # #

  Nemhi, the malleable Guardian of Uranus with a dimpled smile, spoke last amongst the planetary hierarchies in the Blackhole meeting.

  "Father of the Blackhole, fellow Guardians, there’s not much to be said here regarding Uranus for the planet is in good shape. Her inhabitants have not shown any aberrant attitude. Their intelligence has remained desirable, except for an inconsequential fraction. If the intelligence density on Uranus and the other planets were to be compared, even those who are still far behind are reasonably of a higher intelligence than those on some of our sister planets," Nemhi said. "Uranus, I believe, is ready for the change we came here to address. Thank you fellow Guardians."

  Nemhi’s impatience glared in his speech - he wanted the impending change over with. Unlike other Guardians who broached on every little detail affecting their planets, his speech was brief and the most inspiring.