“Yes. A combination of specific conditions allows his believers to integrate him within the hero myth. Only then will he receive validation of his position from the Gods. Everything will happen when tested in the moment of crisis.”
“They are pushing themselves into a crisis,” Diotima said worriedly.
“And we need to be involved with them in order to try and influence the direction in which the crisis will evolve,” added Enosh.
“There is another thing that might concretize the position of the Redeemer,” Sin added. He cleared the table, folded the tablecloth and walked the slow amble of an old man over to the corner of the room. After rummaging around in a closet, he withdrew a number of boxes and pieces of clothing, placing them on the carpet. The crackling of the fire in the fireplace mingled with the whistling of the wind outside the window and the drumming of the rain on the roof. Sin tightened the scarf around his neck and continued searching. Finally, he gingerly removed a package wrapped in coarsely woven brown material. He handled it gently, almost as if it were holy. He pressed the parcel against his body and made his way back to the crate that served as a table. He placed the parcel on the crate. Diotima and Enosh watched the old man's emaciated fingers as they untied the knots. Under the folds of the material peeked a sheet of paper and a bundle of linen fibers. From within the bundle, Sin removed a dry and scorched clay tablet, about the size of a man's palm, at the top of which was a hole, bearing an inscription in cuneiform script.
“This is Atar's letter,” said Sin regarding the yellowing sheet of paper as he handed it to Enosh.
“And that's the Uruk Tablet!” gasped Diotima in astonishment.
“That's right,” said Sin softly.
“It really exists!”
Sin nodded. Enosh looked at them questioningly.
“This is the Uruk Tablet. Some call it the Uruk Amulet or the Tablet of the Redeemer. It was kept in the temple in the Uruk compound. The module was stored in the same temple. I took it before the explosion. Because I am no longer Gnostic, and as far as they're concerned, I am a condemned man whose name has been obliterated, it has no spiritual meaning to me. And yet it carries great sentimental value. This is all that remains of my life, my past on Earth".
“It also has great historical significance,” added Diotima. “This was one of the earliest tablets that were plundered from the Mesopotamian museum in Iraq at the end of the previous millennium. It bears the most ancient alphabetic writing ever discovered. The Uruk Tablet was regarded by the Gnostics as an ancient Gnostic document.”
“Why is it important to the Gnostics?” asked Enosh.
“Because the Gnostics view themselves as descendants of the oldest civilization in history, the Sumerian civilization,” replied Sin.
“That is correct. Archaeologists agree that the tablet is from the era of Meskiagasher's kingdom,” continued Diotima.
“Who?” asked Enosh.
“Meskiagasher was one of the first postdiluvian kings of Uruk. There are some who claim that he was the founder of Uruk. Meskiagasher's son, Enmerkar, is the mythological Nimrod, who appears in the Old Testament, better known by his Babylonian name, Gilgamesh,” Diotima said with restrained enthusiasm.
The old man began to wrap the tablet back in the bundle of linen. Enosh returned the yellowed paper to him. He wrapped them both in the material.
“Take them with you.” He tied the parcel and placed it in Diotima's hands. She clutched it to herself anxiously, as if it were a baby.
“I wish you luck. You'd better be on your way. It would not be wise to get lost in the storm at night in the mountains. I just ask one thing from you.” His tone grew grave.
“Whatever you ask,” assured Diotima.
“Speak to Filan. I don't have many years or even days left. I don't want to die here in this jail,” he said sorrowfully.
“I'll do my best,” promised Diotima.
“I appreciate your efforts,” Sin replied, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“How do you manage to stay happy in such isolation?” asked Enosh with the same curiosity bordering on intrusiveness that is typical of consciousness experts.
“The heart has no wrinkles,” said Sin, looking toward the room where his wife was. “She is my joy.”
Enosh and Diotima thanked him profusely for his advice and for the Uruk Tablet as well as Simone for the delicious meal and the fragrant tea. They followed him to the gate. A moment before they departed, Simone hurried to the gate after them with a bundle of herbs in her hands.
“Take these. The tea is made from mountain herbs.”
They thanked them both and went on their way.
“A message has arrived from President Filan, Madam Minister,” the driver of the hovercraft informed her.
“It was with a heavy heart that I agreed to take on the position of minister of defense after you assured me that I would be granted full freedom to utilize my knowledge as a deviser of cultures in order to bridge the gaps between the civilizations. Isn't that right?”
“That is true,” replied Filan with a warm, calm artificial smile, his grey eyes settling above her head.
“You declared that I would have full freedom of operation in order to minimize confrontation and promote discourse between the main civilizations, with a goal toward peace,” Diotima carried on angrily.
“I must say that your great talent is clear and immeasurable,” he flattered her.
“Despite the great danger involved, you approved an intelligence mission to obtain a Pythagorean single passenger ship. You did all of this, despite your revulsion with us, in order to recruit the Socratics to the mission and send their representative to Samos.”
“That is true, Diotima.” His wide nostrils flared and thick eyebrows quivered, betraying his lie. “But things have changed. I'm afraid I can no longer grant your request. After contemplating it and making consultations, I have reached the conclusion that while there is indeed a threat to the Pythagoreans, there is no danger for the galaxy. It is not our job to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the Pythagorean mission.”
Filan rose to his feet and stood over the seated Diotima in order to underscore his superiority. Diotima did not believe a word of it. She understood the real reason for the change in Filan's stance. 'He secretly wants to steal the processor from the Pythagoreans in the shadow of the coming events. He has a year to do this, but Enosh's mission would thwart his scheme.' She replied, “I have no intention of arguing with you because I know your decision is final. Therefore, I hereby resign from my position.”
Filan was surprised; he had not expected that.
“I do not accept your resignation.” He returned to the chair behind the large desk.
“I don't need your approval; from this moment forth I am no longer minister of defense and I am not committed to the confidentiality derived therein. I am willing to pay the personal price as long as I know that I did my best to save the galaxy," said Diotima coldly and indifferently. “This conversation is being recorded and instantaneously transmitted to my personal assistant. Tomorrow there will be quotes from it all over the audiovisual media throughout Dust. On the morning news you'll be able to hear about President Filan who kidnapped Sin, holding him captive for years, while barring humanity from the opportunity to defend itself against the obliteration of the galaxy. It will also be reported that in his private bank account, Filan is holding enormous sums of money apparently received from capitalists on Dust in exchange for sharing access to the Pythagorean processor.”
“My dear Diotima…” he tried to stop her.
“Former Minister of Defense.”
“Diotima, Minister of Defense,” he tried again as beads of sweat broke out above his upper lip, “we have three more years to find a solution to this problem. Why are you rushing to ruin your career?”
She began walking towards the door.
“Wait!” he called to her.
She did not turn around.
“Wait, give me a chance
to reconsider,” he shouted towards her.
Diotima turned around, removed a document from her pocket and placed it on the desk.
“This document gives me full authority to continue with the plans and make all decisions independently, at every stage, without approval from you. Sign here!” she commanded, her blazing green eyes fixed on him. He looked at her in silence and finally lowered his gaze.
“I know you well enough to know what you're thinking.”
“And what would that be?” he asked.
“That the morning headlines will announce the untimely death of the Minister of Defense.”
“Diotima, now you've gone too far. Me?” he asked with unnatural bewilderment and insult. “I couldn't even imagine something like that.”
“That's right. Especially not when copies of this conversation are being saved by my assistant as we speak,” she said, handing him the pen.
“Don't forget to sign here too,” she said, placing a second document in front of him.
“And what is this?” he asked angrily.
“Something you should have done a long time ago. This is an order for Sin's release.”
Enosh strolled slowly through the garden while waiting for his meeting with Diotima. He had been tense since the moment she had recruited him for this mission. He crossed a small carved wooden bridge over a narrow rushing brook whose banks were adorned with bushes and reeds. Afterward he passed by trees laden with fruit in of a plethora of different colors and clouds of sweet-scented blossoms. The strong smell of the tree sap and the lush scent of the ripe fruit tickled his nose. He crossed a gate covered in ivy with tiny white flowers descending from it, full of honeybees, and continued on to the open, stone-paved square.
All of this overflowing abundance was nestled in the heart of the Socratic academy. Enosh liked to converse with his students while walking along the paths of the garden. Sometimes they would stop him to clarify an issue. Here, outside the walls of the auditorium, was where he felt freer and more comfortable. In these informal discussions, topics arose that were unrelated to the material learned in class. The students liked to discuss their insights regarding the meaning of life and Enosh would then point out their internal contradictions, challenging them to respond to different situations.
Not one of those students would have guessed that at these very moments, their revered teacher was afraid, very afraid.
“What do you think?” asked Diotima, sitting beside him on a bench in the garden. The rigid security guards didn't even bother blending in to the surroundings.
“It really is a complex challenge. I have a few ideas. Cold beer?” Enosh offered.
“I'd love one.”
Enosh whipped two balloons out of his bag, giving her one and ripping the corner off the second one with his teeth.
Diotima began. “Why did Atar fail?”
“Atar could not pass the blood challenge because he was unable to break free of his Pythagorean prejudices. He only had one chance to influence the Gnostics, and that was by way of influencing Nergal from consciousness to consciousness during the ceremony itself. Atar failed because he could not find the key to Nergal's consciousness.”
“And what would the key have been?”
“The nothingness that he worshipped. The weakness nestled within him. Atar could not reach Nergal's weakness.”
“And why did he fail?”
“Because he was Pythagorean.”
“Explain and elaborate.”
“As a Pythagorean, he could not identify his own weakness, much less the weaknesses of others. He was stricken with Pythagorean blindness.” Enosh spoke fluently. Diotima was good at stimulating him, and he reveled in the decoding of human consciousness.
“And what is that blind spot?” asked Diotima.
“Perfection.”
“Is there something that could help free him of his blind spot?”
“Yes: if he ceased to be Pythagorean.”
“Is there no other way?”
“No Diotima. Pythagoreanism, by definition, is the belief in perfection. In order to recognize his own weakness, he had to break loose from his own Pythagoreanism.” Enosh sipped his beer and awaited the next question.
“And why was he unable to stop being Pythagorean?” smiled Diotima as she sipped her beer.
Enosh rose and ignored the garden around him. He concentrated on clarifying his complex train of thought. “Because he was afraid, justifiably so. Had he given up, even for a moment, his denial of weakness, he would have never been able to return to that sense of perfection. He was close, but not close enough. He did accept the blood challenge and tried with all his being to release himself from his Pythagorean identity, but he was unsuccessful.”
“How could losing his Pythagorean identity have helped?”
“Atar recognized indirectly that negating his own identity was the solution, but he didn't know how to go about doing it. As someone who had no identity, he would have found the juncture at which he could navigate between the identities and thereby change identities. That is exactly the Pythagoreans' weak point. They don't have the rift, the weakness, the disturbance, the willingness to expose themselves, which enables a person to clothe themselves in the appropriate identity to deal with a Gnostic.”
“And what is that appropriate identity?” Diotima prodded.
“A Gnostic identity.”
“Did Nergal want Atar to become Gnostic? Is that what Nergal was lacking?” pressed Diotima.
“Nergal specifically did not want Atar to be like him. Nergal needed him to be Gnostic, but only as an indicator that he was not rejecting the Gnostics. The identity Atar needed to wear, had he relinquished his Pythagorean identity, was the identity of one who does not reject the Gnostics.”
“What effect would that have had?”
“I suppose that Nergal would have had at least a small crack in his belief.”
“Which is?” asked Diotima.
“We learned from Sin about Nergal's hatred toward the Pythagoreans. He expressed it to Atar in Uruk. That hatred indicates pain. This pain stems from the Pythagoreans desertion, and shows his hidden desire to belong to humanity.” His thoughts were lucid and structured. “The need to belong stands in conflict with the Gnostic belief in nullification, casting doubt on it.”
She recognized the dawning moment of revelation. “Go on,” she encouraged.
“Atar, with his presence as a Pythagorean, awakened that doubt. But because he was Pythagorean, Atar was not equipped with the tools to widen that crack. Nergal denied that doubt, and hence rejected everyone who brought it up or represented it. Nergal erroneously thought that he could kill the doubt by killing the messenger, the doubter. That is how his fate was sealed. On the other hand, if Atar had not purported to judge the Gnostic from his lofty position as a Pythagorean, and had refrained from being judgmental in the first place, it might not have awakened Nergal's hostility.”
Diotima knew that her brilliant student would know the answers. She continued the dialogue step by step to make sure that they were not passing over any stages in building the logical case. “And how could the progression of the events have developed had Atar given up his identity?”
Enosh sipped again and thought for a moment before he replied. “Sin told us that Atar withstood the blood challenge, that is, he agreed to wear the Gnostic identity. But that was not sufficient. The question was not what he did, rather how he did it. Sin told us that Atar responded with disgust, revulsion and withdrawal, although he tried to hide this. Had he relinquished his identity, he would not have responded this way, because he would have been free from the confines of the cultural perspectives that shaped his tendencies. What's interesting is how Nergal would have responded if Atar had approached the ceremony with indifference, curiosity or even enthusiasm.”
“Well, how?” asked Diotima.
“With confusion, surprise and the feeling that something in his basic assumptions was not right,” he replied.
“And then?”
“From here the possibilities could be infinitely divided. Had he shown indifference to the blood challenge, they might have listened to him. It is still uncertain if his claims would have been effectively convincing, but at least they would have been given a forum. If Nergal had listened, it's possible the dialogue would have led to a widening in the crack in his Gnostic certainty, a crack that Atar would have seized as an opportunity to delve within it. Had they listened to him, Atar would have told Nergal that his anger at the Pythagoreans was in fact a suppressed desire, and he would have asked about that wish to belong to humanity.”
“And what would Atar have had to do in order to shed his Pythagorean identity?”
“He would have needed someone else who had relinquished his own identity in order to guide him though the process of relinquishing his identity. If we assume that, without his identity, Atar would have penetrated Nergal's consciousness, it stands to reason that another person who had broken free of his identity would have to penetrate Atar's consciousness and stimulate this change.”
“And who could be the first to give up his identity in order to create a chain reaction like that?” asked Diotima with feigned innocence.
“Me!” exclaimed Enosh decisively.
“You?” she said as if astonished.
“Out of all the cultures that sprouted from Earth, we, the Socratics, are in a key position that allows us to understand both the Pythagoreans and the Gnostics. The Socratics are experts in nullification, in the ability to engage in self-negation, not in the complete sense of Gnostic destruction, but also not in the sense of abstention from nothingness like the Pythagoreans. We know how to use the consciousness to nullify our identities.”
Diotima finished her beer and clucked her tongue, enjoying the bitter taste. “Thank you for the beer and for your wise answers, but as far as I can tell, I should have sent you on this mission when you were ten years old, before I met you.”
“Thank you for the compliments, but as far as I can tell, the mission of initializing this chain reaction of identity shedding has not finished yet. Even if Atar did not succeed in his mission against Nergal, there is still a possibility that I shall succeed in our mission against the Gnostics of our time.”
Mesopotamia - The Redeemer Page 16