by Mark Tiro
Also, there was issue of the magnetometer.
I hadn’t expected it to register anything from the site, but Sal had insisted we bring it. “It’s just one more thing. And worth its weight in gold—or in lead—depending on what we find,” he’d said in arguing for it.
“Better be gold,” I’d said. Then I thought about it a bit, and added, “You can carry it, so I guess you’re right then—there really is no downside.”
Now that I’d finally made it to the site, I saw that the magnetometer was, well, basically—going crazy. I hadn’t really expected it to register much of anything. But it was now making it clear that there definitely was something here. And not what I’d expected.
I pulled out my machete and got to hacking away at the brush straightaway. There were still maybe two more hours until dark, but I was alone now. This was going to get done as a solo job, or not at all. I put my pack down and got busy clearing the jungle away as quickly as I could.
In the end, it didn’t take two hours. It didn’t even take 15 minutes—that is, once I’d finally hacked my way past the upper layer of brush.
And when I did—there it was. The thing my years of research had only just hypothesized was possible. There it was now, sitting right in front of me.
A computer.
A twelve thousand year-old computer.
Or at least that’s what my working theory had been: an ancient computer, left by whoever must have been here, before… long before…. Before the more famous—and more recent—Aztecs and Mayans and Incas and all the other famous peoples who lived in times past, these people (if they were mere people) were using technology that far surpassed any of the others who had come after. Or at least that had been my working theory.
But here, now, in front of me, was… this.
This… computer?
Whatever it was, it was apparently still drawing on some long-forgotten but still functional, ancient power source. I cleared some more of the brush away and then began to dig. It wasn’t long until I found the power source I was looking for. There, not more than a meter or so down, was a bank of crystals. And from what I’d managed to unearth so far, this was just the top of the power bank. The whole thing was larger than any I’d ever seen or even imagined possible. The crystals were interconnected by what looked like connectors that I could only describe as some sort of organic tissue in a crystalline lattice structure.
And they were all glowing.
I’d had some ideas about the advanced, ancient civilization it must have come from, though these were nothing more than ideas… mere hypotheses.
At some point after the civilization responsible for whatever these things were had disappeared, another group of people—an indigenous, native population—had moved into the place. Of course, they’d had no clue what the things were that had been left behind. But over time, they’d turned to revering the objects as if they were a sign of divine favor, left behind as a gift from the gods. And so they’d preserved the things. Which is how these things had survived, long after the people who built them had died out… or been conquered, or returned to the stars or whatever else had ultimately become of them.
The natives who had come after had built a shrine, revering the thing and protecting it simultaneously. The ruins of the shrine were what had first shown up in the satellite imagery. And they had done their job well, at first marking the spot for all to see, and then later, protecting and hiding it, as both had been covered over and reclaimed by the jungle around it.
And now… here—I’d found it.
The sun had gone down over the horizon and it was quickly starting to get dark. I pulled out my phone from my pack to take and upload the first pictures before I lost the light completely. I put my thumb to my phone, and… nothing.
I hit it again, trying to turn it on. Again… still—nothing.
I’d had it hooked into my pack which had a solar panel for charging and a battery pack inside to capture the charge, and charge any devices. It should have been fully charged, but here it was, obviously completely dead now.
I opened the pack, and pulled out the battery pack, only to find that it was completely dead now too.
Uh oh.
And also—that’s really weird, I thought. It must be the same electromagnetic interference I’d been picking up so strongly with the magnetometer.
I pulled out my tablet to use its camera. The photos wouldn’t be as good, but it would be quick. As soon as I got it out of my pack and went to turn it on, it was obvious it was just as dead as everything else.
Okay, so I’d just have to pull out the other camera, which I hadn’t wanted to do until I at least got some initial pictures uploaded first. The big camera was packed away, though, and was a royal pain to get at. I put everything else aside, though, and started digging for it.
Ten minutes later, I’d gotten the camera out. By now though, the sun had completely set and it was almost completely dark. I dug around and pulled out the flash too. Not ideal lighting, but—my God, this was an ancient computer, maybe even still functional, hooked up to some kind of power bank of crystals I’m guessing no one had seen in however many thousands of years.
I got the camera out, and then the flash, and…
Dead, too. Both of them.
Aaarrrgghhh!
So that was it, then? I rummaged around in the pack, found a chemical glow stick. I took it out and snapped it to light it up.
Then I sat down, took a deep breath and looked around. I leaned back, and when I did, the notebook caught me eye.
Pen and paper. Aaarrrgghhh. That’s it, I thought. Bitter.
Pen and paper. Every electronic device, the video, the camera—all of it was completely useless now to document this… this—this world-changing discovery. Years of research and planning, and now this—this—was the culmination: a sketch drawing on a piece of paper.
I leaned forward, took a deep breath and sighed. The only way to prove this discovery to the world was… to draw it? And with my drawing skills, it would almost certainly look, more or less, exactly like something you could see in just about any kindergarten classroom the world over.
Lovely.
That dejected thought only lasted a minute or so, because that’s when I heard it. That’s when I heard them. People. Coming towards me. Unmistakable now, they couldn’t be much past the outside of the ancient site.
Why had I lit the glow stick? I cursed at myself. Why? There wasn’t much I could do to cover my position though. They had obviously seen me and were just about here.
I could make out their faces now as they approached. They were natives, or mostly natives. Not the guides who had abandoned us earlier, but clearly based on their look and their dress, they were from the same tribe, or at least, from the same group of tribes.
At their head was a woman, in tribal dress, but somehow—elevated? Was she their leader? Something flashed through my mind, there was a hint of recognition, and for a second, I had the strangest feeling that… I knew this person.
But as they came closer, the feeling faded, and I decided it was just that. A weird feeling. They were closing in now, and as more of their faces came into view, I saw that they were heavily armed. Also—they did not look at all happy.
And then it came to me. A flash again. I reached into my pocket and found the pad of paper and pen. I hadn’t given this thing—this mysterious, magic list—a thought for days now, I’d been so wrapped up in everything that’d been going on. Now, with the sound of the natives closing in almost deafening, I held the list up to the faint light of the glow stick. It wasn’t much light, and I could just barely see it. Hopefully, though, it was enough.
The natives were almost through the clearing. I could hear the brush under their feet as each step brought them one step closer towards me.
Then I heard a voice. It was a lone voice, and it was coming from the woman at the head of their tribe.
“Maya?” the voice called out. “Maya? Is that you? It
’s me, Angel. Why don’t you put that thing that you’re writing in down, and we can talk.”
But I didn’t put it down.
I didn’t put my list down. What I did do was to shout back at her. “I have no clue who you are. I don’t know anyone named Angel!” I said.
I didn’t look up. What must have been her native guards were running up to grab me, their machetes outstretched so that I wouldn’t try to escape.
Next to #5 on the pad, I only had time to write a single word now. I scrawled the world “Help.”
I pushed the pad shut and felt the now-familiar popping sound in my ears, and then—I was gone.
It was all gone.
11
Eleven
“Well, hi there.”
It took me a moment to remember where I was. I blinked a few times to clear my mind. When I opened my eyes, I saw David standing there in front of me. He was wearing a grin that was much too chipper and seemed nothing if not amused by my return.
“Could I get a little help here, please?” I entreated as I went to brush the dirt off my pants. That’s when I realized I didn’t really have any pants or, for that matter, any body, either.
It was kind of like we were having this conversation in some sort of netherworld. While I was still thrown off a bit and maybe even a little confused, about this whole ‘jump’ thing, David was obviously having a much better time than I was, dealing with my sudden appearances.
“Help?” He smiled back. He reached out a hand to steady me, or at least I got the sense that’s what he did, though, I don’t recall actually seeing any physical bodies, either his or mine. “Sure thing,” he went on. “Help is what I’m here for. I’d been trying to help you by explaining how it all works when you blinked out there….”
“Wait, what? I did what there? No, stop—please I have a headache, and I can’t handle any lectures now, okay?”
“Sure thing. Good to see you again. How can I be of… help?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear now. Or at least that’s the feeling I got, no actual ears necessary.
“Well, for one, you can explain why this… this… list keeps getting everything so… wrong!”
“Wrong?” he asked quietly. I think I might’ve heard just the smallest tinge of sadness in his voice. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s exactly what I told you. Write whatever you want on your list, and you’ll get it. Exactly as you want. It’s funny how many people don’t get the whole ‘magic list that will manifest whatever you want’ thing.”
“But I didn’t want that!” I blurted back, thinking back to that near-disaster I had in the jungle, and to whatever that thing was in ancient Egypt or wherever.
“I wanted to be with a prince. A prince! My prince—not my brother!”
“But Steve’s not your brother.”
“Well in that… that—wish—he was!”
“Why’d you ask for him to be your prince, then? You do know how royalty works, don’t you? Throughout most of human history, and almost universally from one culture and society to the next… I mean, should I start with the almost universally-repeated patter of those who acquire great power to keep it for themselves, almost always within their own close family? Or maybe I should start with the increased prevalence of genetic disorders when there’s a lack of genetic diversity through factors such as inbreeding and…”
“Stop! You know what I meant!” I shot back.
“Well, you should’ve been more clear.”
“Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it!”
“So, you don’t want to hear my exposition on the historical lineages of royal hierarchy in pre-industrialized societies?”
“No.”
He laughed.
“Why are you laughing at me? You almost had me in bed with… my brother! Iiiccckkkk! And don’t tell me I need to be more…”
“Clear?”
“Uuugghh! Clearer!”
“About what you write down on your list? Okay, sure—I won’t tell you that again,” he said. “Lesson learned. I’ll try to be more clear next time. You asked for help though, so do you want—”
“Help? Yes, I do. Please. I don’t want to find myself in that situation again.” Then I thought back to the jungle, and added, “in either of those situations again.”
“Fair enough. And I won’t ask you to take notes this time,” he said, looking down at the pad I was holding and flashing me that mischievous grin again.
“You can have anything you want,” he started. “You just can’t want it.” He paused, I think waiting for me to protest that I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I wasn’t falling for that one. I just sat there, listening patiently for him to make a point that actually made any sense. When he saw that I was listening, he went on, for real this time. I think.
“Well, of course—you can want whatever you want. And that’s what this list—your magic list—is all about. It’s no different than the power of our minds to manifest anything we want in the world. And everyone—everyone—has that power.”
“Well, why don’t you call it a ‘secret list’ then? You know—like that book? Or was it a movie?”
“I think that name’s taken, and anyway, manifesting what you want in life—that’s not exactly a secret now, is it?”
Sure enough, I’d run across at least half a dozen different versions online of this supposed mind-technique of getting whatever you want, and I conceded as much to him.
“It doesn’t quite work on the level of form anyway—at least not as advertised. And so you don’t have to feel bad if you’re in the like 95% of the population who can’t pull a rabbit out of your hat.”
“I don’t own any hats. And anyway—why doesn’t it work? I just haven’t had time to really do it because I’m in school, but isn’t that what this… what your… magic list is? I mean, isn’t it just another—”
“No, it’s not. Let me say it again: you can have anything you want. You just can’t want it.”
“Sure I can. Why can’t I want what I want?”
“It’s the attachment to form—to the world—that’s keeps you unhappy. Sacrifice is a made-up idea of the world. And to believe you have to be deprived of something you think you need or want, or to believe that you don’t have enough, or that you have to give up something or can’t have something you want—that’s the belief in sacrifice. And it’s this idea of sacrifice that keeps you rooted in the belief that everything you see is real. And any belief that makes the world seem real in your mind is not helpful.”
“Huh?”
“The world is a projection. It’s a projection of your unconscious mind. The world you see is not real. That’s why you can have anything—that’s why you can manifest anything that you want. That’ also why you can’t want it.”
“That just sounds like so much of a riddle. But you keep saying it, so I give—what do you mean?”
“Wanting something binds you to the belief that it’s real. And it’s not real. Nothing you perceive in this world is real. It’s all a projection. And you’re the one projecting… with your unconscious mind, of course.”
“But I don’t feel like I’m making all these things come true. Most of the time, I feel pretty powerless, actually.”
“And you’re right. The little, small part of your mind—and we all have it—that you… no, that we all… think is you, is not really you. It’s just another part of the non-real projection.”
“I’m not real?”
“Of course you’re real. You’re just not you. The ‘you’ that you think you are—your conscious mind—is just a projection. Or if you prefer, just the smallest, tiniest part of your mind. It’s like your conscious mind is just the tip of the iceberg that sits above the water. Most of an iceberg is underwater, invisible and unseen. And the part that’s above the water is but the smallest part of a much greater whole. Without the whole, giant iceberg underwater, the small part sticking out above the surface of the water wouldn’t even exist.”
> “So I’m like the Titanic? Headed for a crash with a giant underwater iceberg?”
“Not unless you think there’s some lesson to learn from it,” he answered, laughing. “Your unconscious mind runs very deep, Maya. Much deeper than you could ever possibly imagine. And it’s this unconscious part of your mind—and the forgotten, repressed and denied unconscious guilt within it—that projects out the whole world you experience. That’s the cause of the world you believe you see—the world you believe is real. It’s not.”
“Real? So projection—is that the same as manifesting?”
“That’s how it works, and that’s why manifesting whatever you think you want will always be a hit-and-miss proposition. Sometimes your conscious mind may be reflecting what your unconscious mind is pushing you towards. But most of the time, eh… not so much.”
“Can you help me with the list? It keeps going all wrong, and I just want it not to.”
“The list?” he said, as if he had no clue that he had been the one who had started this whole mess.
“Yes, David—the list.”
“You’d be best to go back home and just forget all about it. You need to wake up, to look within or else you’re just going to keep right on projecting—”
“But you said it can give me anything I want. Why on earth would I want to forget all about that? I just want to figure out how to control it, so it doesn’t make me do crazy things.”
“But it doesn’t make you do anything. Didn’t I explain that? The list just gives you the experience of whatever it is you list out. Really, nothing more or less than that.”
“No, it doesn’t. I wanted Steve to be my prince, not my brother. And when that didn’t work out, I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to do.”
“And you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you.” He said it as a statement, not a question. Very deliberately. And slowly. “If you want to experience reality, if you want to know your true self—and I assure you that your true self is beautiful and powerful and happy beyond all imaginings you’ve ever had—you’ll have to turn within. You’ll have to go through the veil of clouds you’ve put between your conscious mind and your true self. These clouds are the unconscious blocks you’ve put up to keep the true nature of your reality from dawning on your conscious mind. And it’s from these clouds that the entire world you see is projected out. And these clouds—this unconscious part of your mind—just sit there, obstinately unconscious, in your mind. Like some kind of black gunk clogging up the pipes and messing up the flow. They’re what’s blocking your awareness of the beautiful light—the truth about yourself. “