Here he was walking passed paddy fields on an alien world with a human woman speaking an incomprehensible language he could only understand because of a sticky thing stuck behind his ear called a Babel device. Damn it, a Babel device! A device named after a race that appeared in the Bible, an alien device from an old sci-fi book and so similar to the earbuds developed in the ’20s back home. And now it turns out that the Babel devices come from a DiPacha Realm actually called Babel! Not to mention he was using another person's memory to guide him to a place he’d never been to yet everything was so familiar due to the memory that was not his.
“I need a drink,” said Chris out loud as he pondered all this.
“Are you thirsty?” Asked Adrii.
“Oh, oh no. Thanks. Sorry I was talking to myself,” said Chris.
“That’s the first sign of madness,” said Adrii in all seriousness and looking with concern toward Chris.
Chris stopped still and stared back shocked by the familiar expression. He broke out into raucous laughter which made him feel better but did nothing to help Adrii’s feeling of concern toward him.
Eventually Chris said, “That is an expression from home. It sounds so odd hearing you say it.”
“Well, it is not an expression we have here. It is a concern we have as it is a sign people are using too much shrouple. An old Chief Listener from a couple of generations ago used to mumble to himself after too much shrouple. Many people thought he went mad…” Adrii’s voice trailed off quickly.
They were approaching a leat which Adrii used to jump over as a child. Chris continued on past the leat to the small river beach with the absolute assurance of someone who knew exactly where they were going. Adrii respected his silence. She too was running through the events that had lead them all to this time and place.
Arriving at the beach Chris turned and said, “I need to understand what happened to the hippies, Jane your grandma, and everyone. I want to understand their story and how you started to find out about WaytaPata.”
“That is another memory I can show you from the Guild of The Punku room. It is a little different from my memory. Those who were there all shared their memories. These have combined in the neural-net to show their joint story. First though, I believe you need to see Illary’s story. Understanding her perspective will help you see DiPacha from our view. Then you will see how Jane and the five others were such a shock to us all, and also themselves of course… Let us sit on the beach. I'll show you,” said Adrii.
6Pachamama - Long After Before
(Earth Year 1971)
“For two and a half generations now the Listener Guild here on Pachamama have been detecting strange emissions from the old fabled Punku to WaytaPata in the old temple site. Meaning what? Well, have we discovered one of the three fabled Punku to WaytaPata on Pachamama? If true this Punku would date back to the time when WaytaPata was part of DiPacha. It would prove WaytaPata is not a myth but that it is real. It would date back to a time before the neural-net, to a time when the leaders of HuñuyPacha tried to take control.”
“Thanks for the history lesson Illary, but we have no proof WaytaPata was, or is, real!” Scolded Cauca. Ever the realist. As Principal to the leaders of Pachamama he did not want to encourage hysteria. Control was important to ensure that the limited resources they had could be used as wisely as possible. If anyone believed that the Punku to the Garden Realm and all its legendary bounty could be restored, all reserves could be thrown away in celebration. If these hopes were dashed then starvation and death would be his legacy. He could not allow such a thing. Especially as he had only been Principal for three cycles. Failure was not an option, control was ever important.
“No,” said Ma’Kusi cutting in, “but it does mean that the evidence is strongly suggesting that in a time gone by this temple site, and possible two others on Pachamama, have a significant anomaly we cannot explain.” Ma’Kusi was from the island of Chunta, one of the few places on Pachamama where trees grew, stubborn trees that grew tall and strong even in the winds that blew across the island. Ma’Kusi took after those trees. It was one of the things her husband, Da’Cince loved about her, that and her luscious dark hair and brown eyes.
Cauca, Da’Cince’s Principal and advisor, agreed with Ma’Kusi nodding his head slightly, a begrudging nod. Unless he could identify another source of these emissions or a known Pacha Realm that these emissions were coming from it was increasingly likely that they did come from WaytaPata.
“Cauca, this gathering is to discuss fact not speculation. The five of us here need to work out what we do next.” Continued Ma’Kusi. “We have done well for almost three generations to keep these emissions to ourselves and the Listener Guild here on Pachamama. However, the emissions are getting ever stronger and if the powers in HuñuyPacha got the slightest whisper they would start a search for WaytaPata immediately. That may prove more disastrous than the legends of the lost times before the neural-net. We know the HuñuyPachans are still fixated on the legends and the fabled riches WaytaPata may offer. It’s as if it’s bred into their bones. We, in Pachamama, have little to offer in any way of defence or trade against anything from HuñuyPacha. The sheer number of Punku on HuñuyPacha make it the most powerful Realm and there is nothing we can do to change that. It is the only realm connecting all DiPacha together, even if we can only talk with the other Realms through telelink that is no substitute for free passage through the Punku.”
“Ma’Kusi is right,” said Da’Cince, officially known as Uma Da’Cince being the head of Pachamama. “I trust the opinion of my wife.”
“If I recall correctly,” Ma-Kusi said, enjoying her husband’s support, “there were six Pacha Realms connected to WaytaPata via various Punku. Three fabled Punku here on Pachamama, two on HuñuyPacha and one each on Misso Pacha, Quechua, Stacha Pacha, and Khalil. If any of the fabled Punku in these realms were producing emissions like the one here it would be a sure sign that the emissions came from WaytaPata. If the HuñuyPachans found them it would just increase their power. They may do everything they could to open the Punku to WaytaPata. We cannot say what risks that may bring.”
Cunac, the head of the Listener Guild on Pachamama, joined in trying not to sound offended by Ma-Kusi. “It is true that the three Punku from Pachamama lead to the Gardens of WaytaPata. However, we believe those on HuñuyPacha only lead to desert areas within WaytaPata. Yes, there are areas in WaytaPata that are like the deserts we have in DiPacha, just not as vast. The four Punku leading to WaytaPata from the remaining realms are also better than those from HuñuyPacha. We Listeners believe that the true paths to back to our ancestral home, WaytaPata, are from Pachamama and the one unknown Punku on HuñuyPacha.” As he finished he looked around the table where they were all sat to see if anyone wanted to add anything. No one did. At fifty-seven cycles he was by far the eldest amongst at the gathering and felt he deserved respect. His belly was a testament to the fact that he was fed by people who respected him and the Listener Guild. He was an imposing figure and liked to impose himself on people. It was a figure he had invested in through all his cycles and he had good interest on the investment.
Everyone nodded. All knew that the Listeners spread throughout DiPacha believed they descended from those trapped in the fifteen DiPacha Realms when the Punku to WaytaPata were lost. No one felt like having a philosophical debate with a devout Listener priest.
“Illary, I understand that you have some further news?” Asked Da’Cince standing from his wooden seat to stretch his legs and trying to move the gathering on. He was just under six feet tall with fair, almost ginger hair, a freckled face and green eyes which were currently fixed on his chief scientist Illary.
This was Illary’s first gathering with the leaders of Pachamama. At thirty-seven cycles old she was proud of the work she did and that Uma Da’Cince recognised her efforts. She was tall, blonde and obviously very fit from the physical labour of growing food; as all Pachans, except Listeners, had to. However, as yet
she was unaware of how her physical presence could command respect and attention having spent most of her time in her workshop.
“Yes, Uma,” said Illary.
“No need to be formal, Illary,” said Da’Cince.
“Thanks, Uma, I mean, Da’Cince. Apologies…” she was slightly overwhelmed. Especially considering the news she had. Illary swallowed hard and continued. “As you know for almost three generations we have identified strange wave emissions coming from the three temple sites on Pachamama. Recently my team has identified two key facts.”
Ma’Kusi nodded encouragement to her.
Growing in confidence Illary continued but did not make eye contact with Cunac. “One: the emissions can now be understood. We have found a way to translate them. And two: the emissions come from the very heart of the temple site, the Quadrant here in Millham, the Punku.” Illary stopped and stared at Da’Cince while this sank in. The room was silent. No one spoke for a long time. This was not circumstantial evidence that Punku to WaytaPata may exist after thousands of generations. This was almost irrefutable evidence. Or at the very least evidence that somewhere beyond the old Punku in the Quadrant was another Pacha. Could it really be WaytaPata?
“Continue.” Said Cunac staring at her in disbelief and anger.
Illary said, “We have found that the emissions are waves. This we found out about a quarter of a generation ago. But only recently, about one cycle ago, we discovered that these waves contain information.
“I requested this gathering five days ago as we have now identified that the information was sound and pictures. I can currently only see and hear these in my workshop but we are working to upload this information to the neural-net in a secure room so that those with the right passcode can view them. Currently only three other people have seen this information. The room is known is ‘Wayta3’ and you will find the information I have prepared for you in this room.”
Each person around the table entered the neural-net in their minds. Each person shut their eyes and went into a brief trance finding the room by thinking of the location Illary had mentioned, like looking for a memory. Sitting back they each entered the room to view the images stored there.
Looking around the room Illary could see their eyes flickering behind eyelids as if dreaming.
“That cannot be. It is not possible,” stammered Cunac as he came out of the brief trance. He seemed to sum up what the others were thinking. “Some of that defies logic, some defies all that is humane. Some cannot be real. The talking cat-like creature chasing the, well what I assume to be a mouse. There was one part with someone just sat behind a desk telling stories of horrible things happening to people. Another of animals that are only fabled to have existed in WaytaPata and some man sat near them talking to me in whispers about them and how they changed into us, humans… I’m saying that this is a sick scientist joke and you are wasting our time!” Cunac stood up and slammed the table. What he had seen had offended almost all he believed in as a Listener descended from true WaytaPatans.
“Do not show disrespect, Cunac,” boomed Uma Da’Cince. He had taken on a very formal air. “How could Illary fake that?”
“I do not know but it cannot be real.”
“What do you have to say?” Asked Ma’Kusi.
“Whether it is real or not we need to see the direct proof that Illary has,” said Cauca keeping all passion out of his voice. “I agree that what we have all just witnessed is so far outside our imagination that I am struggling to understand it. I mean no offence, Illary, but I doubt you or your team could have imagined such as this either. And why show us this anyway even if you could imagine it, what would be the point?”
“Agreed,” said Da’Cince. “Tomorrow we will have a gathering at Illary’s workshop where she and her three colleagues can explain this to us in more detail. For now none of this leaves this group. This information is not for trade or sharing. Is that understood?”
“Agreed.” All except Cunac said in unison. Cunac was still brooding.
“Cunac, what do you say?”
“Agreed,” said Cunac grudgingly. The revelations that Illary had shown proved it beyond doubt that WaytaPata, or another Pacha, existed beyond the Punku in the Quadrant Temple. He was confused and angry. He left wondering if missing Punku in other realms had the same anomalies. But how to check without creating a hysteria across DiPacha?
Da’Cince left the gathering pondering similar thoughts. If the emissions were from WaytaPata and were seeping through Punku on HuñuyPacha then that could truly be dangerous for all Pachans. As far as he knew only Illary and her team had identified the emissions and only from the Quadrant here on Pachamama.
Da’Cince and Ma’Kusi left the Quadrant Temple together in quiet conversation. The Temple itself lay at the centre of the city of Millham and was built around the fabled Punku of stone obelisks. It was a simple construction of four straight mud brick walls, no roof and with a tower at each of the four corners. The Uma’s residence was off to one side and the Listener Temple chambers on the opposite side. The two leaders of Pachamama walked through the city Millham towards the bridge over the river. They needed time to think. Millham itself was unique among the large cities of DiPacha. It was the only large city which did not have an active Punku at the centre. But now what had only been suspected as one of the lost Punku to WaytaPata may actually be just that. Not just a myth and legend anymore.
The three massive stone obelisks at the centre of the Quadrant that marked the Punku stood as tall as the four towers at the corners of the temples. Two upright and one across the top like a giant doorway. All other Punku across DiPacha had monuments to mark them but what was missing at the Quadrant Punku was the shimmer and view to the realm beyond. The stone obelisks stood as a monument to nothing and only sparked legend and tales of the lost Garden.
The three stones themselves were a mystery that only added to the intrigue and rumours. No one knew where the stones came from as they were nothing like any stone on Pachamama.
For countless generations people had speculated but nothing could ever be proven. Now that was different.
The stones themselves sparkled in the light, especially when wet and on bright nights. Around them lay a floor of wood from ancient trees that had turned as hard as stone. Over time this wood had worn smooth but remained warm to the touch in almost all weathers. Frost and snow always struggled to get a foothold. The Quadrant Temple had become a place of pilgrimage and peace. A place for contemplation. The Listeners often came to sit in front of the giant stones and meditate, praying for WaytaPata and the bounty it held and to the Gardener who they believed tended and cared for the riches of their home realm.
Everyone else just enjoyed making up stories about the mysterious stones.
Cunac had gone to the temple and was sat cross legged in front of the stones in prayer to the Gardener and contemplating all WaytaPata could be.
The following day they all gathered in Illary’s workshop. A large building with one main room just outside the Quadrant Temple and between the Listeners Temple and the Uma palace. It had work benches along two walls with a large wooden table in the middle. All the surfaces were covered in things that only Illary understood.
“Cunac, please, again I ask you not to touch. These instruments are delicate.” Illary had said more than once. She felt like her mother must have felt.
“Cunac, Cauca please, let us start.” Added Ma’Kusi. Both men were fascinated by the things they could see and had to sit on stools at the table to stop wondering around touching and probing things they found.
“Da’Cince and I,” continued Ma’Kusi, “have concluded that we need to create a new and secret team. It will consist of Illary and her three assistants who will view all images and information that they can find from the new Pacha realm. Their aim will be to discover what it is and how safe it is. We also believe we need to close the gates to the Punku and the Quadrant. The gate into the central courtyard of the Quadrant Temple. W
e know it is the first time in generations that the gate has been closed but we must do this. We will say it was for cleaning and maintenance.”
Cunac stood enraged, “You cannot deny the Listeners the right to the Quadrant. It is our right to be able to use the space for meditation and prayer, especially now…”
“Be quiet Cunac!” Cauca said quietly but firmly. “Do you not see? It is precisely for those reasons why the Uma has concluded the Punku must be kept shut.”
“Thank you, Cauca. As always you understand.” Da’Cince said. “Imagine if your acolytes were there and… things happened. We need to keep this under control until we understand the implications of what we have found. This new team will be the Guild of The Punku and only they, which includes you Cunac, will be allowed into the Quadrant Temple.”
The rest of the gathering was taken up with Illary showing them how she interpreted the emissions and allowing her companions to see first-hand what she and her team had found. There was no fakery and magic was unheard of in DiPacha.
Cunac left the gathering and headed straight for the Listener Temple. He needed to think. That afternoon he meditated with a bottle of shrouple. In the evening he took the opportunity to hold a vigil with his apprentices and acolytes from the Listener Guild that resided on Pachamama. He held the secret of WaytaPata, the possible WaytaPata, close to his heart but it lay heavy on his heart. Cunac needed to listen to his fellows. Hear what they had to say. Cunac decided it was time to go back to basics and asked the small group around him what the purpose of the Listener Guild was across DiPacha.
With no home realm the number of Listeners was not large on any of the fifteen known realms of DiPacha. All Listeners survived on the generosity of the Pacha on which they resided. Listeners on all Pacha realms were considered a priestly race exchanging guidance and wisdom for food and shelter. Long ago it became the custom that their numbers would remain small to protect resources. It was now an ingrained custom. However, over the generations the unquestioned generosity had begun to lead the Listener Guild into the complacency of the spoiled child. No one ever said ‘no’ to them.
Disconnected (Connected series Book 1) Page 4