Incarnate: Mars Origin I Series Book III

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “It gives the reason. Right here,” Jairo said.

  “Let these be guidestones to an Age of Reason.” Logan read the inscription. “Oh. Okay. The Age of Reason, huh?”

  “This is interesting,” I said looking at the stone Logan read from. “What you said, Jairo about this being astronomically aligned. They wrote here how.” I skimmed over it, “Okay, they put that the channel through the stone indicates the celestial pole. The horizontal slot indicates annual travel of sun, and the sunbeam through the capstone marks noontime throughout the year. Wow. So that’s cool, huh, Logan. Just like the Maya observatories.”

  “How many of these languages can you read, Ma?”

  I looked up at the granite monument, the same message was written in eight different languages, one on each side of the four slabs. And there was a shorter message inscribed on the capstone in four ancient languages.

  “Let’s see. Of the four at the top - Babylonian, Classical Greek, Sanskrit and Egyptian hieroglyphs - I can read all but the Babylonian.” I walked around and inspected each slab. “English, of course. Spanish. No. Swahili. No. Hindi. No. Hebrew, Arabic. Yes. And the last two, Chinese and Russian. No.”

  “Only the ancient languages, huh, old lady.” Logan came and stood next to me and hooked her arm in mine.

  “Guess so,” I said.

  Jairo stood in front of the slab inscribed in English and started reading the message out loud.

  “One. Maintain humanity under five hundred million in perpetual balance with nature.”

  “There’s your population control.” I said. “We’re already well above that, though. Way above that.”

  Jairo read the next one.

  “Two. Guide reproduction wisely – improving fitness and diversity.”

  “Another ban on running up the number of people,” Logan said.

  I read next. “Three. Unite humanity with a living new language. Four. Rule passion - faith - tradition - and all things with tempered reason. Five. Protect people and nations with just laws and fair courts. Six. Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.” I looked at Jairo, the realization that these words could have easily been taken from the manuscripts I’d found in Qumran I’m sure was all over my face. He patted my shoulder. He seemed to know what I was thinking.

  “Seven,” he said. “Avoid petty and useless officials.”

  “That one I can relate to,” Logan said. She turned to leave. “I’m going to wait in the car.”

  Jairo and I read the next two together. “Eight. Balance personal rights with social duties. Nine. Prize truth - beauty – love – seeking harmony with the infinite.”

  Jairo let a thoughtful smile escape his lips. He looked at me and nodded,

  “Ten,” I said. “Be not a cancer on the earth – Leave room for nature – Leave room for nature.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “Overpopulation results from an increase in births, a decrease in mortality rates and an increase in technological advances. And for the United States, a true threat to overpopulation is immigration.”

  “Human population control comes in all forms. Legislation. Coercive measures. War. Propaganda. Medical intervention. Introduction of a pandemic.” She pressed the Enter button on her laptop, moving her PowerPoint presentation on the giant projector screen to the next slide.

  “It is not a new problem. Throughout history, even in ancient times, there have been discussions on the population. At times, the concern was how to increase the rate of population growth, but for the most part, growth has been the concern.”

  Dr. Russell, paused from speaking. She glanced down at her notes and back up to her audience. She was nearing the end of her speech and there were a few more people that remained than what she expected. The muscles in her jaw relaxed and she gently tossed her long red curls over the curve of her shoulder. Hers, she felt, was a worthy cause and people – everywhere – needed to listen.

  A doctor and economist by education, an environmentalist by conviction, Victoria Russell had chosen an area of expertise that often was met with brutal opposition. She was from the UK. Prim and proper as many expected, always down for a cup of afternoon tea, but only a hint of her accent noticeable when she spoke publicly. She was beautiful and smart, an expert in her field, and she had a stubborn streak that was off-putting to many.

  Victoria stood at the podium at the Albright Auditorium in Atlanta. The chairperson of the Center for Ethical Population Command and a board member of the World Health Organization she was a woman who knew how to change people’s minds. And for the past five years, she had been working on doing just that.

  “In 1798,” she continued. “A British clergyman and economist wrote that ‘Population, when unchecked, increases in a geometrical ration. Subsistence increases only in an arithmetical ration.’” She advanced her visual presentation. A graph appeared on the wall behind her. “Since 1900 the population of the world has gone from 1.6 billion to nearly seven billion. This kind of explosion stretches the limits of our environment.” She paused, once again surveying her audience. She was coming up on the part that most people didn’t want to hear.

  “The effects the population has on poverty, environmental degradation and political stability are the driving forces in our concern today. And that’s why we have to take a decisive stance.

  “An American biologist and environmentalist wrote that ‘A cancer is an uncontrolled multiplication of cells; the population explosion is an uncontrolled multiplication of people.’ I propose today that the cancer that is population has metastasized. And soon it will kill everything in its wake. It’s time we took action.”

  Dr. Russell spoke for a little less than twenty minutes. But in that time she felt she had left a huge impact. She spoke passionately to the small crowd, she wanted to persuade them - make them understand. The day’s talk was one of the many seminars she gave to garner support for her initiative. Most audiences weren’t filled with anyone that could help push her agenda into fruition, but with the students, academics and the occasional passersby that attended she hoped to plant a seed. Her own little method of propaganda. But she knew that if effective and ultimate control of the population was going to be the end game, she needed for this message to take concrete form. It needed to be in the game plan of political leaders and experts from every industry - finance, academia and even the media. All disciplines had to succumb.

  She took a sip of water from the glass she had on the table next to the podium before she continued.

  “Overpopulation also puts limits on our personal freedom. It creates an unnatural convergence of animal and humans which affects each species health and survival. Before global warming will ever kill us, overpopulation will have desolated this planet.

  “So, with that in mind what is the best course of action to take?” She held her head up and answered her question. “The best course of action is to devise the means that would enable us to immediately decrease the current population by at least half – approximately three billion people.” She heard gasps from the audience. She waited to see how many left the auditorium before she continued.

  “Of course,” she said, “that would be amoral, and in many cases tend to include actions that many societies deem illegal. But something must be done. And soon.”

  More gasps.

  She collected up her notes, and shut the lid on her laptop and drew in a breath.

  “I am open now for any questions that you may have.”

  There wasn’t a flurry of hands that went up. There never was. By this point those people that stayed were more than likely still in a state of shock over the comment that most interpreted as her suggesting some form of genocide. And unlike most days where she took time to help people understand her mission, today if the Q & A didn’t last long she’d be okay with that. She’d plan to drive the two hours from Atlanta to Elberton, Georgia. She wanted to see the Guidestones. A granite testa
ment to the ideas she espoused. Somebody, somewhere agreed with her.

  She saw a hand go up in the small crowd.

  “Yes. Sir. You have a question?”

  “Yes. Thank you. What do you mean when you say control comes in all forms-” The inquirer looked down at his notes. “I quote. ‘Coercive measures. War. Propaganda . . . Introduction of a pandemic . . .’ Are you condoning – supporting some sort of mass destruction of the world’s population?”

  Victoria folded her hands on the podium and kept a composed façade. But inside she was filled with butterflies. She loved when she was asked this question because genocide was exactly what she was proposing.

  At least until the world’s population got down to a sustainable size.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Panama Rainforest

  I had been with Logan for over a month. I hadn’t the faintest idea what we were looking for and neither did she. We had no clue that this chasing of corn would lead us to anything significant. Or like Logan likes to say “definitive.”

  True enough, the tunnels were a good find and it was interesting that the inscription on the slab we translated actually matched to something tangible. And instead of trying to find more tunnels, I suggested that Logan go back to her site. She had made sure that the dig continued and she made regular reports back to her benefactor with the help of Jairo, but she needed to be there.

  I needed to go back home. I was on Sabbatical from the University and hadn’t started any research. And I wanted to get my business done with Bruce Cook. Being out with Logan, bits and pieces of things we found reminded me of what I had learned. Reinforced it even. But I wanted to be done with it. I had made up my mind to give all the information over and I didn’t want anything changing my mind.

  I was having a hard time leaving her, though.

  We had worked our way South to Panama. The country had over five hundred rivers laced through the rugged tropical terrain. A place where our gods of the waterways, the four Bacabs could have risen to seek revenge of those that destroyed their people.

  And we did find tunnels, tunnels connected to caves, just like in Belize, which added even more fuel to Logan’s fire. It’s all she need to keep going. We found them in the tropical forests that edged the Panama Canal. Jairo, usually acting the tourist as we traveled, wasn’t interested in seeing the Canal. This close to South America, he wanted to skip Mesoamerica and head straight over to Ecuador.

  My son, Micah was supposed to come down after my fall but once we decided to go to Georgia, he postponed the trip. As soon as we got back, I called him and told him to go ahead and come. I thought it would be easier on Logan with me leaving if her father was instrumental in my departure. I had to call Micah back two nights before he was scheduled to leave and told him I wouldn’t be in Belize, I would still be in Panama. Panama City to be exact.

  “Be careful, Ma. I don’t want you falling. Again,”

  “Funny, Logan,” I said stepping carefully through the tomb’s entryway. “Real funny. But you let me get hurt again and your father won’t just send Micah, he’ll come himself.”

  “I know. And probably with Uncle Greg in tow.”

  “Logan. Let me help her,” Jairo said. He nudged Logan out of the way and took my hand. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

  Logan had become a little more relaxed when it came to me and Jairo, which was good because I enjoyed his company. Silly of her to have gotten upset about it.

  We had followed a trail of tunnels all the way to Panama and like the other tunnels we found rooms and antechambers, but we hadn’t ever found anything that looked like the room we were presently standing it.

  It was a tomb-looking room with broken pottery strewn over the floor just like in the caves in Belize. A platform with a vault carved from stone sat atop. As I bent down to look at the pottery, Logan did her usual check for levers and trap doors.

  “Jairo,” she called out while crawling along the base of the platform. “Help me with this.” She dug out a small trench with her hand. “I think it might be some kind of lever and weight system.”

  “Let me see,” he said, getting down on his knees. “I wish I had something to dig with,” he grunted and he pushed his hand underneath the vault stand. “I . . . I think. I. Think. I. Have. Something.” Another grunt from him and the vault slid ajar.

  “Oh man!” I said. “What is that?”

  “Can we get down there?” Logan was ready to climb in.

  “Wait,” I said. “Let’s slow down. Shine a light down in it first. Or at least wait and see if anything crawls out or if some vapors are trapped down there.”

  “I’ve got a lighter,” Jairo said. He flipped it open, looked at us, “Stand back,” he said. He flicked the lighter, and threw the small torch into the hole.

  We stood quietly waiting. Nothing happened.

  “I’m going in,” Logan said.

  “I don’t know if . . .”

  “I’m going with her,” Jairo said. “I’ll go first.”

  They shimmied their way through, I stood on top and waited for them to say something.

  “Are you guys okay down there?” I shouted down the hole.

  “Hold on, Ma, I think I can make the opening wider. Make it easier for you to get down here. You have to see this. You won’t believe it.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Arlington, Virginia

  “Father Chandra.”

  Jacked walked into his office at the Pentagon and Nikhil Chandra was sitting there, apparently waiting for him.

  “Hi, Jack.” The Father smiled at him pleasantly.

  Jack went back to the door he’d just entered, and peered up and down the hallway. He walked back in the room. “How did you get up here?” Jack noticed the official badge that said “Visitor” clipped to Nikhil’s suit jacket. He was dressed in priestly clothes - black shirt, black jacket, spit-shined black shoes and a white color. The only raiment not clerical was his tan trench coat and a black fedora he held in his hand.

  “I know people, who know people,” Nikhil said.

  ‘You must know some important people. I can’t even get my twin sister in here.” Jack pointed to Nikhil’s collar tab. “I guess that doesn’t hurt, huh, Father. Compels feeling of trust.”

  “Call me, Nikhil.”

  Jack smiled. And Nikhil returned the gesture.

  “What do I owe the pleasure, Father? Mmm, Nikhil.”

  “Concern for a mutual friend.”

  “Justin?”

  Nikhil nodded. “Can we speak somewhere in private? Some place more secure.”

  Jack chuckled. “You can’t get much more secure than the Pentagon.” Then Jack, remembering that Nikhil had gotten all the way up to him unannounced added, “That is for most people.”

  “How about if we take a walk outside. Can you?”

  “Sure can.”

  They walked out of the Pentagon, Nikhil nodding at a few passersby as if he knew them.

  “You’ve been here before,’ Jack stated.

  “Just on one of the tours they offer. Nothing official.”

  He led Jack a few rows over and then stopped at a black, late model luxury sedan. He leaned up against the door and folded his arm across his chest.

  “Nice car,” Jack said.

  Nikhil twisted at the waist and looked at the car. “Yep. It’s real nice.”

  “So what’s going on?” Jack asked.

  “Senator Bruce Cook.”

  “Believe me, Nikhil, I’ve got him on my radar.”

  “So do I. I’ve got eyes on him. I saw that you stopped by to speak with him.”

  “How in the world could you have found that out?” Jack stood facing Nikhil in an “at ease” position.

  “I know people -” Nikhil said.

  “Who know people,” Jack said it at the same time he did.

  “That’s right. So hopefully we won’t have to do that song and dance again.”

  Jack laughed. “No, Nikhil. I
get it now. Yeah. I talked to him and he talked at me. He didn’t have time for me and my questions. Especially after I mentioned unlawfully detaining Justin.”

  “So you didn’t get anything out of him?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Justin’s seems to have made up her mind about giving him what she has,” Nikhil said. “But I’d feel more comfortable about her doing that if I knew more about him.”

  “Same here.”

  “I’ll share what I’ve got with you. And you share with me what you know.” Jack nodded in agreement. “I found out that this Cook guy had a Simon Melas working with him to try and make amends for the way they left things the first time she met him,” Nikhil said. “He’s using Simon because he’s an old friend of Justin’s. And, I’m guessing, so she’d feel more confident handing over the information she has if it had the endorsement of an old friend.”

  “Simon Melas is bad news.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard. Got caught up with stealing money and all.”

  “You really don’t need any input from me on this, do you? You already know what I know.”

  “Just thought I check with you and make sure.” He stood up straight in anticipation of ending the conversation.

  “I met Simon,” Jack said. “Did you know that? And he’s no longer a friend of Justin’s.”

  “No. I didn’t know. That you met him or that he wasn’t still a friend. When did you meet him?”

  “In Jerusalem. The night I got shot.”

  Nikhil raised an eyebrow.

  “He showed up at the hotel room. Justin’s brother, Greg seemed not to like him too much. Was real rude to the guy. Later I found out that Simon lied to Justin about the aggressiveness of the natives over in the Bay of Bengal.”

  “You’re talking about the Sentinelese in the Andaman Islands?”

  “Yeah. You remember when she went there?”

  “Yep. I remember.”

  “Greg thinks Simon had been out to hurt her. Well, set her up to be hurt.” Jack licked his lips. “Where is Simon now?”