Tablet of Destinies

by Traci Harding

  Adapa took a step back, thinking he should have known better than to excite the beast. The creature wasn’t at all bothered by the event. Adapa could never understand why he found such things offensive, when most of the creatures around him did not.

  ‘Back to work,’ yelled the Nefilim guard supervising the work, as he gave Gurlu a prod with his long metal staff.

  Adapa, being fairly quick-witted, had never really had a problem with the guards. Gurlu was not so gifted, however, and squawked at the guard, annoyed by the order.

  ‘Quiet, freak,’ the Nefilim demanded, ‘unless you’d prefer it back in the mines.’

  Long sentences confused Gurlu, but the word ‘mine’ he knew and feared.

  ‘Come, Gurlu.’ Adapa urged it to follow him back up the road to the forest. The creature responded to the friendly request and did as it was asked.

  It was as they reached the top of the road with heavy loads on their return trip, that Adapa accidentally dropped the long log he was carrying. He watched it roll down the hill and was inspired by an idea. Gurlu was big enough to stop the logs at the bottom of the hill. All he had to do was give each log a good hard push down to the creature and they would both be saved much effort.

  ‘Adama, you are not permitted outside the palace,’ stressed Marduk. ‘Father shall have a fit when he finds out.’

  ‘If he finds out,’ Adama corrected sternly. He noticed a construction site and moved to investigate.

  Although Marduk was just a little younger than Adama, he felt he should have superiority in this instance. For Marduk was a pure Nefilim, not a half-caste as Adama was. ‘I could change your mind with a thought,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Then you’d be destroying the thing you like most about me,’ Adama commented, in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘And that is, that I think for myself.’

  ‘I could kill you instead.’ The young Nefilim male resorted to his usual threat; being an immortal, Marduk did not have that worry.

  ‘Then kill me.’ Adama stood in the middle of the road to invite his brother. ‘And lose your only loyal friend,’ he appealed, surprised when Marduk launched himself in his direction.

  ‘Watch out!’ he cried, as they collided and went toppling off to the side of the road. A large timber log rolled down the road past them and a huge, squawking creature gave chase.

  The Nefilim guard, having seen the incident, brought the log to a stop with a wave of his hand and began bashing the beast around its heads with a staff for its clumsiness.

  ‘It might have been easier if you’d stopped the log,’ Adama grumbled, using his grazed hands that stung with a vengeance, to push himself up.

  ‘Sorry,’ Marduk mocked. ‘It happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to think. Do your wounds hurt?’

  Adama served his brother a look of scepticism and displeasure, before his attention was diverted to a slave running down the dirt road towards them.

  ‘No!’ cried Adapa, as he came to Gurlu’s rescue. ‘My fault, my fault!’ He insisted on taking the blame for the incident, but the guard was not interested in the truth.

  Beating the creature to the ground, the guard reached his hand out towards the creature’s deformed ribcage.

  ‘Please, Lord, mercy!’ Adapa knelt to beseech the Nefilim guard not to deal a fatal blow.

  ‘What is it?’ Marduk queried his brother, who seemed most interested in the events taking place.

  ‘I’ve never known anyone desire to take the punishment for another,’ said Adama, and noting the similarities between the being in question and himself he moved off towards the commotion.

  ‘Big deal,’ grumbled Marduk, trailing behind Adama. ‘I don’t suppose I could dissuade you from investigating?’

  ‘You suppose right.’ As Adama neared the fracas, he eyeballed the man very closely, and saw that the man looked almost perfectly human. Adama had been led to believe he himself was a unique specimen of human male sexuality and intellect, and that all the other humans in existence were either sexless, witless, deformed, or all of the above.

  Marduk and Adama approached the guard, who held the still beating heart of the beast in his hand. When he saw the two Lords approach, he knelt and held the organ up in offering. ‘I beg forgiveness, my Lord Marduk. I should have seen —’

  Marduk waved the guard to silence, not interested in his explanation. Had Marduk been on this earth longer than sixteen years, the guard may well have met the same fate as his victim. But Marduk was young and nonchalant. He was more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than mining, or slavery management techniques that included torture and punishment.

  Adapa had crawled over beside the beast. One of its heads was so badly beaten that it was naught but a bleeding mound of flesh. The second head’s one good eye, positioned in the middle of its face where its nose should have been, slowly closed. ‘My fault,’ Adapa wept, as he leant over the dead beast. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘I have seen you do this …’ Marduk ran his hand down his own face, referring to the tears the man was shedding. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘It means he hurts,’ Adama explained.

  Marduk was most confused. ‘But the guard didn’t touch him.’

  Adama look a deep breath to steady his own welling emotions. ‘Perhaps I should have said, he hurts for his friend.’

  ‘Are you implying he’s telepathic?’ Marduk was horrified by the notion.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Adama nearly gave up on trying to explain, but Marduk’s eager expression urged him to persevere. ‘How would you feel if I died?’

  Marduk shrugged, for he found the notion confusing. ‘Relieved.’

  Adama was offended by his response. ‘Seriously?’

  Marduk nodded. ‘You bet. Then there would be nobody to outshine me in father’s eyes, and he’d stop pushing me to try and excel you, a mere mortal!’

  Adama gave up on the topic, moving to speak with the grieving human. ‘His death was not your fault,’ Adama told the man, who ventured to raise his filthy tear-stained face. Inwardly, Adapa was completely startled by the Lord addressing him, for he was not one of the Nefilim, but a human in a God’s attire. He dared not argue the issue, for fear he’d end up like Gurlu.

  ‘Unfortunately, the Nefilim do not know any other way.’ Adama shrugged, finding the fact tragic. ‘But you and I,’ he reached out and collected a tear from the slave’s cheek, ‘we know different.’

  Adapa’s eyes opened wide in awe, feeling an instant affinity to the Lord, for he understood the Lord’s meaning perfectly.

  ‘Speak man. Tell me your name.’

  ‘My name is Adapa, Lord.’ He felt liberated and honoured to be addressing such a fine being, but humbled himself again as he spied the guard’s look of displeasure.

  ‘Ignore him, Adapa, he is of no consequence.’ Adama grabbed the slave’s arm and raised him to his feet, leading him away from the bleeding animal. ‘You speak very well. Do you write also?’

  ‘Write, my Lord.’ Adapa frowned. ‘What is write?’

  ‘You know.’ Adama’s eyes roved around, looking for some script, but outside the palace there was no writing anywhere, for there was supposedly no one who could understand it. Adama knelt in the dirt and began tracing symbols in the dust.

  Adapa was most intrigued by the Lord’s endeavour and knelt beside him to see if he could copy his work.

  Marduk became somewhat disturbed to see his brother teaching sacred scripture to a slave. ‘I think you’ve had too much sun, dear brother.’ He erased the work Adama had done.

  ‘He shouldn’t be here.’ Adama stood to confront his younger, though larger, brother.

  ‘Sure he should,’ Marduk said. ‘Do you think Father would have sent him here if he was some sort of prodigy?’

  Adama looked back to the slave and was amazed to find him still working on the script. ‘He memorised it,’ he gasped, so excited he could hardly breathe.

  ‘No,’ Marduk protested. ‘He can’t have.’

&nb
sp; Adapa finished the final strokes of the symbols the Lord had drawn and looked up at his dumbfounded peers. ‘What does write do?’

  Adama began to laugh, delightedly. ‘He’s an open book.’

  ‘No, he isn’t!’ Marduk grabbed his brother’s arm. ‘He is not going to turn into one of your little projects, so you can dismiss that thought right now.’

  ‘We have to tell Father.’ Adama stood his ground, thinking it a question of morality.

  ‘He knows,’ Marduk assured. ‘Father personally gives each being in Eridu their task here. He knows what this man is doing, I assure you.’

  ‘But why this fate?’ Adama was immediately angered. ‘Explain to me why I live in a palace and this being lives with beasts?’

  Marduk rolled his eyes at his brother’s dramatics, which only infuriated Adama all the more.

  ‘Either he comes with us, or I stay here with him,’ he stated. ‘Because as soon as I depart that guard will rip his heart out, and a possibly bright, if not brilliant, mind shall be lost.’

  ‘This is probably why Father didn’t want you to venture beyond the palace,’ Marduk retorted coldly. ‘You are not equipped to deal with the injustice of the real world, Adama.’

  ‘I can deal with it, alright.’ Adama grabbed hold of Adapa’s wrist and led him off towards the palace entrance.

  ‘If you take that disgusting excuse for a human being to Father, we’re both going to be in trouble.’ Marduk strode after Adama to catch him up.

  ‘I’ll tell him I ventured out on my own.’ Adama absolved his brother of any wrongdoing.

  ‘And how did you get past security again?’ Marduk questioned sarcastically. ‘You just teleported yourself forth, I suppose?’

  ‘Look, why are you so against this?’ Adama stopped to query his brother. ‘Anyone would think you were jealous.’

  ‘The Nefilim don’t get jealous,’ he retorted smugly.

  ‘Oh yes, you do,’ Adama said. ‘You can be jealous, you just don’t feel it.’ He looked from Marduk to Adapa to explain. ‘That’s the big difference between their kind and ours.’

  ‘That makes no sense at all,’ Marduk scoffed, as they entered through the palace gates.

  Adapa smiled as he nodded in silent accord with the human Lord’s statement, and his heart filled with joy to know that someone else in creation felt and thought as he did.

  ‘You shall never be a slave again, Adapa,’ Adama told him, as they passed underneath the solid golden archway into the palace grounds of Eridu. ‘Welcome to paradise.’

  When Adapa was washed clean of sixteen years of dirt and filth, Adama was intrigued by the young slave worker’s appearance.

  All of the human prototypes that had gone before Adama had been very dark skinned; Enki and Ninharsag had designed them that way. Adama, however, had obviously not been fashioned for the life of a slave, but for a son of Enki and the life of a scholar.

  The Nefilim Lord, Enki, had only seeded daughters by natural means. In desperation he turned to his sister, Ninharsag, and her genius with genetic manipulation, to create him a male heir for his kingdom and for his knowledge, who was as close to the Nefilim in appearance as humanly possible. The year after Adama had been successfully engineered, Marduk was born to Enki by his mate, Ninki. In retrospect, Enki believed that his desire for a son, which had driven him to create the perfect human, was due to his Logos, Anu; the advent of a new thinking species had been predestined by the cosmos.

  Adama’s skin was not as fair as a Nefilim’s, but it was not as black as a slave worker’s either — it had more of a red-brown tinge. Adama’s hair and eyes were dark like a slave’s, and this was where Adapa’s appearance differed. His eyes were a paler brown and his hair, once washed, was the colour of sand. Adapa was not as tall or as well-built as Adama, but his body was solid from working outdoors.

  Marduk stood, arms folded, observing Adama help his prize find pull on the robe of a scholar. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. A human with Nefilim hair.’

  Adapa was inspecting the wet strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. ‘I never knew I had hair this colour either,’ he chuckled. ‘What does it mean, Lord?’ he asked Adama.

  ‘It means that you have been blessed by the maker,’ he assured, as he came at Adapa with a comb. ‘But for what purpose? That we must endeavour to find out.’

  The young Lords arranged to have an audience with the Lord Enki in his council chambers, and contrary to the young Lords’ fears, their father was not infuriated when he laid eyes upon Adama’s human find.

  Enki chose to appear as forty human years of age, although he was, in truth, thousands of years old. His hair, always trimmed short, was golden brown and not much darker than Adapa’s. The Lord’s eyes were an amazing colour of deep blue — the dark eyes and dark hair of Adama and Marduk came from his wife Ninki’s contribution to their gene pool. Enki, standing over eight feet tall, was a larger man than either of his offspring, although Marduk had yet to grow to full maturity.

  From his throne, the Lord sat looking down upon his sons and their new acquaintance, his demeanour calm, as if this moment had been anticipated.

  ‘You believe I have some explaining to do, Adama.’ Enki decided that now was the time. ‘Marduk. Please take Adapa to the scriptorium and show him around. I need to speak with your brother, alone.’

  As Homo sapiens had yet to prove themselves to be telepathically skilled, the Nefilim usually spoke aloud when dealing with them. Humans could hear the Lords when the Nefilim thought-projected, but the Nefilim found that this method only confused the lesser species, so thought-projection was reserved for intimidatory purposes. On rare occasions, the Nefilim used telepathy to speak privately amongst themselves, but, fiercely paranoid of each other’s ambitions, the Nefilim chose to wear thought-wave neutralisers almost all of the time.

  Marduk teleported Adapa from the room as requested, leaving Adama to question his father. ‘I am not the only one, am I?’ He came striding forth to demand some answers. ‘Why didn’t you tell me there were others?’

  ‘Why?’ Enki posed. ‘Because of your next question.’

  Adama was on a roll and so hadn’t really caught his father’s response until after he’d asked: ‘Are there any females?’ Adama frowned when he realised he’d fallen right into his father’s trap. ‘Why would you wish to deny me a mate, when every other creature in creation has one?’

  ‘No other creature in creation poses a threat to the Nefilim. Unfortunately, Adama, you do.’

  ‘Then why create more of me? Why run the risk?’

  ‘Because I found the company and temperament of humans preferable to that of my own kind. Besides, I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do with my research by the Pantheon, when my motivation and existence comes from Anu.’

  Anu was the name of Enki’s father, head of the Pantheon. This was also the name of the Logos at the centre of the Nefilim’s home star system, for it was believed by the Nefilim that their Logos spoke through their leader.

  Enki had begun to fear that his brother, Enlil, had been poisoned by greed. It was no secret that Enlil despised the slave workers who made his life so easy. Enki had known that his brother posed the biggest threat to genetic research and felt that he had to go over his brother’s head regarding developments in this field: ever since Enki and Ninharsag had created slaves to give the Nefilim liberty from hard labour, their kindred had no longer fully appreciated the wealth and minerals they came by. Resources were wasted on toys and weapons for the amusement of Gaia’s Gods and for keeping subordinates in line. Enki had been granted a vision of the self-indulgence that lay in store for his people and had privately conveyed this knowledge to the great Anu. In his wisdom, Anu had advised that Enki must do as his own inner voice compelled him and advance his research into the human species of whom he was so fond, so that they might have a chance of defending themselves against Nefilim injustice in the future.

  ‘Anu told you to create us?
’ Adama queried in awe. ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘To guide my kindred back home,’ Enki replied, his eyes glassing over as he became engrossed in thought. ‘You have an additional etheric body that we Nefilim have never found a use for. Even I do not yet understand your depth of feeling.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do, Father,’ Adama commented, knowing Enki was telepathic and would have come to know something of feeling through probing Adama’s mind. ‘It is because you have an inkling of compassion and love that you stand apart from most of your brethren.’

  Enki smiled at this. ‘Coming from you, Adama, that is a real compliment. But this emotional body you have was not something Ninharsag or I created via the manipulation of your essence on a physical level … it was something prepared especially for humankind in the spiritual realms. The emotional body seems to be something unique to Gaia’s spawn, and is the part of you that comes from the ape man of this planet, which supplied part of your essential makeup … or at least that was my theory.’

  ‘Ah … now the truth comes out.’ Adama knew there must have been a scientific angle behind Enki’s repeating of the experiment and producing others of his ilk. ‘I had emotional understanding, but was that just me or was it something any perfect human would develop?’

  ‘Exactly!’ Enki admitted, eager to expand on his brilliant hypothesis. ‘The introduction of intellect and reason must have awakened the subtle body in question, or at least given you the means to understand the stimuli it produces. That is why, when the others were created, I separated you all. I placed you into different circumstances, to gauge if a certain environment enhanced or repressed the development of the emotional body.’

  ‘How many of us are there?’ Adama asked warily, suspecting his father would not divulge the information.

  ‘If I tell you, you will ruin the experiment.’

  ‘Is that all I am to you?’ Adama launched an emotional attack, which always confused the Nefilim.

  ‘You are my pride, my treasure,’ the Lord responded surely.