The Matriarch Matrix

by Maxime Trencavel

  Peter smiled proudly as he continued lightly rubbing Mei’s petite node of DNA aberrations. Mei, on the other hand, began to flush and well up at his touch to this spot on her neck. And this spot was not the only part of her welling up as she clamped her knees together. Something that did not escape the eyes of Alexander. Nor Zara.

  Jean-Paul smiled serenely at both Zara and Peter, blinked measuredly, and said, “All possible interpretations. But let us not jump to conclusions just yet.”

  Peter eagerly jumped right back, asking, “And if we find it is the aliens the object communicates with, and they have been the voice of God all these millennia, what will happen for you and your faith?”

  “We will see,” Jean-Paul replied in his contemplative manner. He blinked methodically again. “That is a bridge to be crossed if we get there. As I’m sure Mei has passed on to you, Alexander’s philosophy is that we all must examine our limits, because one day, something may come along that will challenge that limit. And either we adapt or, if not, someone may die. Simple as that.”

  Alexander raised his hand. “Ladies, gentlemen. We need to focus on the core point we need to resolve immediately. Do we focus our search on Crimea? Or do we search Göbekli Tepe?”

  In response, Jean-Paul outlined the simple logic for both locations. “Mei’s genetic mapping leads to both areas. The PIE language origins and faint electromagnetic epicenter favors Crimea. Furthermore, there is the question of several unexcavated ancient pyramids all along Crimea, forty-five meters high and seventy meters in length. The proposed date of construction is much earlier than Göbekli Tepe, suggesting there once was an highly advanced ancient civilization there. Peter’s oral tradition best matches this area.

  “On the other hand,” he added, “most of the oral traditions uncovered to date point to southern Anatolia, now the Anatolian Kurdish State. These, matched with Göbekli Tepe, also situated near a possible EM epicenter, say we should go there. Hence the choice we need to make today.”

  Fiddling in her chair with arms folded in front of her chest, Zara piped in. “This is very simple. Go to Crimea. The three of you can go without me. You won’t need me there, and I can go back to Siirt and help my family evacuate into the safety of our mountains.”

  Alexander scanned the room. Zara’s face wore an expression of worry, Mei’s face one of apprehension. Jean-Paul had his face buried in his MoxPad+, monitoring readings. And Peter’s eyes looked up to the left, processing. That was, until he noticed the big man staring right at him.

  “Peter, my boy, in your genes, in your head, lies the answer. What say you?” asked Alexander.

  Panic now set in. What should he answer? He had only begun recalling bits of his dreams two weeks ago, that morning when Pappy had revealed the parchment. He glanced at Mei, who glanced back with eyes that begged for his help. With what? Then over to Zara, whose eyebrows were set to fierce, yelling for him not to screw this up. Maybe his mother was right. He should see a priest for confession, but the only one in the room was not making eye contact with anyone.

  What should he do? The eternal question he felt inside that had been asked for millennia. One more look over to Zara and back to Mei as he saw his beloved banana slugs on their ears. And he got it. Tell the truth.

  “Love and babies,” he blurted out.

  That got the former priest’s attention as he joined everyone else in the room in a collective incredulous stare at Peter.

  “There was a woman and a man who shared a deep and profound love. And she wanted to make a baby,” said Peter, who then glanced over at Mei. “I could only hope to fulfill what our oral tradition said. Man and woman. Only as the two together can you find peace. The object can save. You might see in sleep, might hear.”

  “My boy. Perfect,” said Alexander with a smile. “And what can you tell us of the object?”

  Shaking his head, he replied, “Alexander, you must believe me. That is all I know. All I can remember.”

  And the monstrous man looked over to Jean-Paul and then to Mei. “It appears your strategy on the flight failed. Perhaps you now will follow the plan I recommended to begin with.”

  And finally, the priest spoke. “Alexander. It would be prudent for us to consider Mei’s work a success. She did get Peter to confirm our hypothesis of two primary originators. A couple.” He glanced at a nervous Mei, who gave a smile back at him. “Remember, you accelerated the time tables. We only were able to administer the God Gene vaccine to Peter last night, with a booster an hour ago. Let Mei have another chance.”

  “Priest,” Alexander replied, looking at the screens showing the latest on the confrontations around the Black Sea. “I’ll give you and Mei one more chance. But we are quickly running out of time. If she fails, we do things my way.”

  Mei took the cue and scooted closer to Peter. “Remember what I said—you must trust me and not stop me from doing what I am about to do. Can you do that, Peter? For sure?”

  Peter nodded, although he was more than a little apprehensive and frightened.

  Mei kissed his cheek, but he shivered and his arms tensed. Sensing this, she started the algorithm. Petting his arms first for a few minutes, she unbuttoned his shirt to fully expose his chest and put hands to his heart, rubbing for minutes, then fingers to forehead and rubbed with her finger for more minutes.

  She brought his head into her neck. “Breathe through your nose slowly. Smell my fragrance that you so loved earlier. Smell me. Sense me.”

  That unique jasmine fragrance beckoned Peter to release control of his senses as he leaned further into her and smelled her. Once again, the bewitching aroma swept into his nostrils and filled his sinuses. He sensed its flow into his body, creating the warmest, most wondrous sense of peace.

  He felt her hand placing his fingers upon her cheeks as she said, “Feel me.” And he felt her face, softer and smoother than any woman he had touched or who had touched him.

  His head lifted to eye level, she said, “See me.” And they gazed into each other’s eyes. And Peter began to lose himself in the pools of chestnut bliss surrounding her pupils.

  With her coral-glossed lips, she planted a wet kiss upon his lips, then pulled back, smiled, and said, “Taste me.” At which Peter pulled her close to him and kissed her back.

  Her hands guided his head to her chest, ears to her heart and the rapid beats in her chest. She said, “Hear me.”

  Stroking his hair, she asked, “My dear Peter, what do you see?”

  Looking in front of his nose, he replied, “Soft, delectable, wondrous. So perfectly formed.” He licked his lips in salivation.

  “Enough,” Alexander yelled, standing up. “He’s salivating over your breasts, Mei.” Looking to Jean-Paul, he said, “You two have failed. Billions of euros in research wasted.”

  Staring back at a distraught Mei, he yelled, “And you, what was that? It was so clinical. We are not in a research lab. There was no passion, no love, no intimacy in what you did. Is that how you act with your boyfriends? What did you think the originator wife did to her husband? I told you from the beginning, the afflicted men needed sex from their afflicted female partners.”

  As Mei trembled, lips trying to say something, Zara shook her head, frowning, glaring at the big man. She yelled out, “Don’t you do this to her. She’s too good of a woman for the likes of you.”

  He walked over, standing in front of her, his towering figure casting a veritable shadow over her. “Then maybe you could do better, my little Zara.”

  She sneered. “You know I am not that kind of woman, Sasha.”

  Tapping his MoxWrap, he then pointed to the screen opposite her. “There. See for yourself. Live satellite intel. The Turkish tanks have taken position twenty-five kilometers outside Diyarbakır. See the northern force? This one is poised to strike deeper towards your Maryam, your Roza, your beloved Sara.”

  She bolted up, standing toe to toe, looking up at him, “Let me go home. Now. There is nothing I can do here. If a woman as beau
tiful as Mei cannot induce your Peter to tell you what you need, how do you expect me to do any better?”

  Tapping his MoxWrap again, he pointed to another screen. “There. Forty cargo helicopters ready to fly from Georgia, carrying the beta models of my latest antitank weapons. My Russian friends are ready to declare their support for your newly formed nation.”

  He touched her on her chin, then trailed his finger downwards along her neck, clavicle, to between her breasts. “You and I know you will do whatever is needed to save your family, your people.”

  As Zara glared at him, he walked over to Mei, lifting her out of her chair by her hair. His monstrous free hand clasped around her face, squeezing the blood from her cheeks, now a blanched white, he said, “And you, it is time you pay me back for the twenty billion euros I spent on your fruitless genetic research.”

  Zara stood to intervene, but to her surprise, Peter beat her to it. Nostrils flared, but not from the want of Mei’s sensual fragrance, Peter stood up, grabbing those hands off Mei’s face and hair and pushing himself between the two. Staring upwards as if trying to see the top of Mount Ararat, Peter asserted, “Zara’s right. Mei is a good woman and doesn’t deserve how you are treating her. And if you have to know, she slept with me on the plane exactly as you asked of her. And it was more than just sex. It was the passionate bonding you wanted to see here on public display. And I should have told you earlier, but I was afraid. But I’m not afraid now. I saw the object. They had it.”

  “Of course you did, my boy,” Alexander replied, with his dark piercing eyes beaming into Peter’s. “And where is the object?”

  He tried to be brave. He tried to look bold. But he could not stop his lower jaw from quivering.

  “That is what I thought,” concluded Alexander, who put his hand across Peter’s head and squeezed. He turned and pointed Peter’s eyes to the two boxes on the table. “Pick which box goes to which of your two new lady friends. They will know from the content what they will need to do with you next. Love and death. That is all we have. Love and death.”

  Slowly, apprehensively, Peter approached the table. It was obvious which one was intended for whom. The dragon for Mei. The falcon for Zara. But what if that was a trick? What did Mei say? Never read too little into him. Never underestimate him.

  That smell. Bleach. Like they used in the urgent care clinic to clean up blood. Whose blood was spilled in here? Or should that be, whose blood would be spilled in here?

  What should he do? What should he do? That ancient question forever to haunt his mind, his soul, his destiny.

  Chapter 18

  Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

  Galatians 5:19-21

  9600 BCE

  Northern shores of the Black Sea

  I lie watching the stars. Their beauty. Their harmony. Their love. And even though the grasses covering the roof of our house stand between me and the night sky, I lie here next to my precious husband, watching these stars. From these stars came our object. The object that has pained my husband. The object that leads to peace in my husband, and myself.

  My hands on my womb, I feel the peace inside like a warm fire on a winter night. And from my womb, the warmth spreads slowly into my body. It is different this time than thirteen cycles ago, when we conceived Ki, and eight cycles ago, when we conceived An. Not better, as I love them with all my heart, but different.

  Nine cycles have passed since I gave birth to An, and no child since. I should be so thankful for having two wonderful children, but after several baby bumps gone wrong since An, I came to a peace that I was to be barren. But this voice. This voice of beauty. This voice of harmony. This voice of love. I heard this voice say that I should have more children. That tonight I must take Orzu into me and conceive now. And so we made love with the same passion he had taken me that first night I crawled into his bed, much to his surprise, and took his loins into mine. And now, as the voice had asked, I lie here with my legs elevated as my dear beloved sleeps in deep peace at my side.

  And I lie here under the stars, feeling such a state of bliss that I must push all other thoughts and worries aside. And I could have wished for the voice or my beloved’s dreams to be more explicit on the time of day the Reindeer warriors would arrive tomorrow. But I must allow this peace to spread through my body and throughout my mind tonight. I will awaken before dawn to prepare. For now, my eyes say good night to the stars and slowly close.

  Peace. Beauty. Harmony. Love.

  My eyes open. It is very bright. Oh my, I overslept. And there may be Reindeer warriors outside our home. “Wake up, Orzu. Wake up, we overslept in our bliss. We must dress for the lake and get our essentials onto the boat with as much haste as we can,” I say to my sleepy-eyed savior.

  And in my robe, covering my nakedness, I go to my brother’s chamber. Newlyweds, oh my. Clothes tossed to the sides and sheets to the wind, they lie in their nakedness after another wild nuptial party. My brother, so embarrassed, grabs the sheets to cover himself. I assure him there is nothing that his big sister has not already seen of him. And Sama, she has no modesty. She arises, flaunting her body not only to her new husband, but to me as well. She has such pride in her beauty, but sometimes it is misplaced. Such is youth.

  As she combs her hair, in priority over finding a robe to cover herself, I discuss with my brother the dream Orzu had and how we need to leave. I ask him to run to our brother Namu and warn him. Sama cries and comes to my brother, breasts into his face, and says she is scared and he must stay to defend her. With the look of no contest, my brother shrugs his shoulders at me and says a man must do what he must do. Well, my definition of a man is different, but we do not have the time to argue. I say to him then to help Orzu load the heaviest items we need for life on the other side of the lake onto the boat.

  And now to the children’s room. Ki is just awakening. Orzu is right, she has the beauty and innocence of his sister. Well, maybe some of mine as well. An is cowering under his bedsheets, hoping the sun will decide it was a mistake to come out today. “Up, you two. We must load the boat. Gather your things that you will need on the other side of the lake.” Nothing I say is a surprise to them, as we have talked about this possibility for many sun cycles and they have been drilled on what they must do. I say to them, “We must take all the arrows, spears, weapon heads, and all the obsidian we have.” They dress in their boat clothes and start implementing our plans to move.

  So that I do not prance around in my bareness like my sister-in-law, I go back to my bedroom, take the robe off, wash, and put on my boat clothes. It may be a very long time across that lake to get to where the Other Siders told us to go, the land of the obsidian mountain. Dressed appropriately, I then find the plainest head cloth I have and put it over my head. I should look as unappealing as possible to the Reindeer hunters.

  Outside, I go to check on my menfolk. And what are they doing? The two men are playing around with that object, hooking it up to the aurochs. I tell Orzu in no uncertain terms that there are more important things than this black thing, which was not in our long-discussed departure plans. We must put the things most vital to our survival onto the boat. He’s still tetched. He is arguing with me that the object is the most vital thing to our survival. I remind myself to teach Ki how to get her husband to do exactly what she says and not something so frivolous.

  Good—Ki and An have packed the weapons and obsidian onto the boat. Ki has kept her bow and arrows just in case. I tell both of them what a good job they have done. “Ki, help Sama with the food, seeds, and cooking items. An, get two mating pairs of chickens and a mating pair of goats onto the boat.” He wants to bring more, but I explain we only have so much room on this fishing vessel.

  Insi
de the house to help with the packing, and I see my sister-in-law. What is she thinking? We have the same stupid argument over her immodesty. She, having been an abductee like me, should know what will happen if they capture us again. She spits back at me, saying I am only her sister-in-law, not her mother. And then she criticizes me, says that I play mother to her husband, and that must stop now that she is here. He is hers, not mine. I wish Ki was not here to witness this inane conversation. Otherwise, I might beat this silly woman myself. I take some black grease and put it on my face, and go over and do the same for Ki, who has listened well to her mother and has an ugly, really ugly, scarf around her head.

  An has returned from the boat, and I ask that he take watch outside. Easier said than done, as the warmth and beauty of the sun has been replaced by rapidly moving black and angry clouds. We make two trips back and forth to the boat, the four of us, with Ki armed with bow and arrows. The silly menfolk have moved the object to within twenty paces of the boat as they prepare planks and ropes to pull this beast up into the boat.

  Final tour of the house. I am nearly in tears as we are leaving so many memories around our home that we cannot take with us. My last moment of tears is interrupted by An screaming as he runs into the house. Reindeer warriors. Two, maybe more. We grab whatever we can and run to the boat. The angry black clouds cry on us as if to mourn our impending deaths, or worse than death for the women. We run by the menfolk, still fiddling with that stupid stone, and yell that they are coming. On the boat, I hide my children as they ready themselves with bow, arrows, and spear, not that An is very good at any of these tools of the hunt.

  To the front of the boat, Orzu is going back to the object with spears in hand. I hold him back. The tetched fool, he says he must take care of what he failed to do before. He has seen the giant, and he needs to avenge Illyana. Avenge Parcza. He needs to redeem his failure, his sense of being a loser when he failed to kill when he needed to. Even with my tears, my embrace, my declarations of love, he is still intent on going to his death. I say to him that if he truly loves me, truly loves his children, he will stay with us. We need him.