by Alten-Steve
The remaining resident of 7-C stands motionless before a television set suspended above his head. He listens to President Maller extol the tremendous work of the men and women of NASA and SETI. He hears the president speak excitedly about world peace and cooperation, about the international space program and its impact on the future of humanity. The dawn of a new age is upon us, he announces. We are no longer alone.
Unlike the billions of other viewers watching the live news conference from around the world, Michael Gabriel is not surprised by what he is hearing, only saddened. The ebony eyes never blink, the body, held rigid, never moves. The blank expression never changes, even when Pierre Borgia’s face appears on screen over the president’s left shoulder. It is hard to tell if Mick is even breathing.
Dominique enters the pod. She pauses, taking a moment to observe her patient watching the special news broadcast while she verifies that the tape recorder fastened beneath her T-shirt is obscured by the white lab coat.
She moves beside him, the two now shoulder to shoulder in front of the television, her right hand by his left.
Their fingers entwine.
“Mick, do you want to watch the rest of this, or can we talk?”
“My room.” He leads her across the hall, entering room 714.
Mick paces the cell like a caged animal, his cluttered mind attempting to sort through a thousand details at once.
Dominique sits on the edge of the bed, watching him. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? How? How did you know? Mick—”
“I didn’t know what was going to happen, only that something would happen.”
“But you knew it would be a celestial event, something to do with the equinox. Mick, can you stop pacing, it’s hard to carry on a conversation like this. Come here. Sit down next to me.”
He hesitates, then sits beside her. She can see his hands shaking.
“Talk to me.”
“I can feel it, Dom.”
“What can you feel?”
“I don’t know … I can’t describe it. Something’s out there, a presence. It’s still in the distance, but it’s getting closer. I’ve felt it before, but never like this.”
She touches the hair flowing down his neck, fingering a thick, brown curl. “Try to relax. Let’s talk about this deep-space radio transmission. I want you to tell me how you knew the biggest event in humanity’s history was about to happen.”
He looks up at her, fear in his eyes. “This is nothing. This is only the beginning of the final act. The biggest event will happen on December 21, when billions of people die.”
“And how do you know that? I know what the Mayan calendar says, but you’re too intelligent to simply accept some 3,000-year-old prophecy without the scientific evidence to support it. Explain the facts to me, Mick. No Mayan folklore, just the supporting evidence.”
He shakes his head. “This is why I asked you to read my father’s journal.”
“I started to, but I’d rather you explain it to me in person. The last time we spoke, you warned me about some kind of rare galactic alignment orienting itself to Earth beginning on the fall equinox. Explain that to me.”
Mick closes his eyes, drawing slow breaths as he forces his adrenaline-racked muscles to calm.
Dominique can hear the whirring of the tape recorder. She clears her throat, covering the noise.
He reopens his eyes, his gaze softer now. “Are you familiar with the Popol Vuh?”
“I know it’s the Mayan book of creation, their equivalent of our Bible.”
He nods. “The Maya believed in five suns or five Great Cycles of creation, the fifth and last of which is set to end on December 21, the day of this year’s winter solstice. According to the Popol Vuh, the universe was organized into an Overworld, a Middleworld, and an Underworld. The Overworld represented the celestial heavens, the Middleworld—Earth. The Maya referred to the Underworld as Xibalba, a dark, evil place said to be ruled by Hurakan, the death god. Mayan legend claims the great teacher, Kukulcán, was engaged in a long, cosmic battle with Hurakan, pitting the forces of good and light against darkness and evil. It’s written that the fourth cycle came to an abrupt end when Hurakan caused a great flood to engulf the world. The English word, ‘hurricane,’ comes from the Mayan word, ‘Hurakan.’ The Maya believed the demonic entity existed within a violent maelstrom. The Aztecs believed in the same legend, only their name for the great teacher was Quetzalcoatl, the underworld deity known as Tezcatilpoca, a name which translates to ‘smoking mirror.’”
“Mick, wait—just stop a moment, okay. Forget about the Mayan myth. What I need you to stay focused on is the facts surrounding the calendar and how it relates to that deep-space transmission.”
The dark eyes blaze at her like onyx lasers, the look causing her to shrink. “I can’t discuss the science supporting the doomsday prophecy without explaining the creation myth. It’s all related. There’s a paradox surrounding the Maya. Most people think the Maya were just a bunch of jungle-dwelling savages that built some neat pyramids. The truth is, the Maya were incredible astronomers and mathematicians who possessed an unfathomable understanding of our planet’s existence within the galaxy. And it was this knowledge that allowed them to predict the celestial alignment that led to yesterday’s radio signal.”
“I don’t understand—”
Mick fidgets, then begins pacing again. “We have evidence that shows the Maya and their predecessors, the Olmec, used the Milky Way galaxy as their celestial background marker to calculate the Mayan calendar. The Milky Way is a spiral galaxy, about 100,000 light-years in diameter, made up of approximately 200 billion stars. Our own sun is located in one of the spiral arms—the Orion arm—about 35,000 light-years from the galactic center, which astronomers now believe to be a gigantic black hole, running straight through Sagittarius. The galactic center functions as a kind of celestial magnet, pulling the Milky Way in a powerful vortex. As we speak, our solar system is whipping around the galactic center point at a velocity of 135 miles per second. Despite that speed, it still takes Earth a good 226 million years to complete one revolutionary cycle around the Milky Way.”
You’re running out of tape. “Mick, the signal—”
“Be patient. As our solar system moves through the galaxy, it follows a fourteen-degree-wide path called the ecliptic. The ecliptic crosses the Milky Way in such a manner that it periodically moves into alignment with the central bulge of the galaxy. As the Maya looked to the night sky, they saw a dark rift, or dark elongated band of dense interstellar clouds, beginning where the ecliptic crosses the Milky Way in the constellation of Sagittarius. The Popol Vuh’s myth of creation refers to this dark rift as the Black Road, or Xibalba Be—a nexus shaped like a giant serpent, connecting life and death, the Earth and the Underworld.”
“Again, this is all fascinating, but how does it relate to the deep-space radio signal?”
Mick stops pacing. “Dominique, this radio signal—it wasn’t just some random transmission beamed across the universe; it was purposely directed toward our solar system. From a technological standpoint, you can’t just transmit a radio beacon halfway across the galaxy and hope it somehow manages to reach a specific planetary speck of dust like Earth. The farther the beacon has to travel, the more the signal breaks up and loses its strength. The radio transmission SETI detected was a very powerful, precise, narrow beacon, indicating to me, at least, that whoever, or whatever sent it required a particular galactic alignment, a sort of celestial corridor that aimed the transmission from its point of origin to Earth. In essence, the signal traveled through a sort of cosmic corridor. I can’t explain why, I can’t explain how, but I felt the portal of this corridor as it began opening.”
Dominique sees the fear in his eyes. “You felt it open? What did it feel like?”
“It was a sickening feeling, like icy fingers moving inside my intestines.”
“And you believe this cosmic corridor must have opened up just enough to all
ow the radio signal through?”
“Yes, and the portal’s widening a little bit more each day. By the December solstice, it will open completely.”
“The December solstice—the Mayan doomsday?”
“That’s right. Astronomers have known for years that our sun will move into alignment along the exact point of galactic center on December 21, 2012—the last day of the calendar’s fifth cycle. At the same time, the dark rift of the Milky Way will move into alignment along our eastern horizon, appearing directly over the Mayan city of Chichén Itzá by solstice midnight. This combination of galactic events occurs only once every 25,800 years, and yet, somehow, the Maya were able to forecast the alignment.”
“The deep-space transmission—what was its purpose?”
“I don’t know, but it portends death.”
Justify his schizophrenia. Blame the parents. “Mick, it seems to me that, aside from one isolated incident of violence, your continued incarceration has more to do with your fanatical belief in the apocalypse, a belief shared by tens of millions of people. When you say humanity’s coming to an end, what I’m hearing is a belief system that was probably spoon-fed to you from birth. Isn’t it possible that your parents—”
“My parents were not religious fanatics or millennialists. They didn’t spend their time constructing subterranean bunkers. They didn’t arm themselves with assault weapons and food supplies in preparation for Judgment Day. They didn’t believe in the Second Coming of Jesus, or the Messiah, for that matter, and they didn’t accuse every autocratic world leader with a bad mustache of being the Antichrist. They were archaeologists, Dominique—scientists, who were intelligent enough not to ignore the signposts that point to a disaster that will wipe out our entire species. Call it Armageddon, call it the Apocalypse, the Mayan prophecy—whatever makes you happy—just get me the hell out of here so I can do something about it!”
“Mick, stay calm. I know you’re frustrated, and I’m trying to help you, more than you know. But, in order to gain your release, I have to appeal for another psychiatric evaluation.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know.”
“Christ—” He paces faster.
“Let’s say you were released tomorrow. What would you do? Where would you go?”
“Chichén Itzá. The only chance we have of saving ourselves is to find a way inside the Kukulcán pyramid.”
“What’s inside the pyramid?”
“I don’t know. No one knows. The entrance has never been found.”
“Then how—”
“Because I can sense something’s there. Don’t ask me how, I just do. It’s like when you walk down a street and can just sense someone’s following you.”
“These board members are going to want something more solid than a feeling.”
Mick stops pacing to give her an exasperated look. “This is why I asked you to read my father’s journal. There are two structures in Chichén Itzá that are linked to our salvation. The first is the great ball court, which has been aligned precisely to mirror Xibalba Be, the dark rift of the Milky Way, as it will appear on 4 Ahau, 3 Kankin. The second is the Kukulcán pyramid, the keystone structure of the entire doomsday prophecy. Every equinox, a serpent’s shadow appears on the northern balustrade of the pyramid. My father believed the celestial effect was a warning left to us by Kukulcán, representing the ascent of evil upon mankind. The shadow lasts exactly three hours and twenty-two minutes—the same interval of time shared by the deep-space transmission.”
“Are you certain about this?” Make certain you verify these facts in your report.
“As sure as I’m standing here, rotting in this cell.” He starts pacing again. She registers the click of the recorder as it runs out of tape and switches itself off.
“Dom, there was another story on CNN—I only caught the last blurb. Something about an earthquake hitting the Yucatán basin. I need to find out what happened. I need to know if the earthquake originated in Chichén Itzá, or in the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Why the Gulf?”
“You haven’t even read the journal entry concerning the Piri Re’is maps?”
“Sorry. I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Jesus, Dom, if you were my intern, I’d have flunked you by now. Piri Re’is was a famous Turkish admiral who, back in the late fourteenth century, somehow came upon a series of mysterious charts of the world. Using these charts as a reference, the admiral constructed a set of maps that historians now believe were used by Columbus to navigate his way across the Atlantic.”
“Wait, these charts were real?”
“Of course they’re real. And these charts reveal topographical details that could only have been acquired using sophisticated seismic soundings. For instance, Antarctica’s coastline appears as if there’s no ice cap even present.”
“What’s so significant about that?”
“Dom, the map is over five hundred years old. Antarctica wasn’t even discovered until 1818.”
She stares at him, not sure of what to believe.
“If you doubt me, contact the United States Navy. It was their analysis that confirmed the accuracy of the cartography.”
“So what does this map have to do with the Gulf, or the doomsday prophecy?”
“Fifteen years ago, my father and I located a similar map, only this one was an original, thousands of years old, like the one Piri Re’is found. It was sealed in an iridium container, buried in a precise location on the Nazca plateau. I managed to snap off a Polaroid just before the parchment deteriorated. You’ll find the photo in the back of my father’s journal. When you look at it, you’ll see an area circled in red, located in the Gulf of Mexico, just north of the Yucatán Peninsula.”
“What’s the mark represent?”
“I don’t know.”
Wrap this up. “Mick, I don’t doubt anything you’re telling me, but what if … well, what if this deep-space transmission has nothing at all to do with the Mayan prophecy? NASA says the radio signal originated from some distant point more than eighteen hundred light-years away. That should give you some measure of comfort, right? I mean, come on”—she smiles—“it’s a bit unlikely that we’ll be seeing any extraterrestrials arriving from Orion’s belt within the next sixty days.”
Mick’s eyes widen into dark saucers. He steps back, grabbing his temples with both hands.
Oh, shit, he’s losing it. You pushed him too far. “Mick, what is it? Are you okay?”
He holds up a finger, motioning her to stay back, to remain silent.
Dominique watches him kneel on the floor, his eyes—dark windows to a mind whirling a thousand miles an hour. Maybe you’re wrong about him. Maybe he really is certifiable.
The long moment passes. Mick looks up, the intensity of his glare positively frightening.
“You’re right, Dominique, you’re absolutely right,” he whispers. “Whatever’s been predestined to eradicate humanity won’t be arriving from deep space.
“It’s in the Gulf. It’s already here.”
JOURNAL OF JULIUS GABRIEL
In order to understand and ultimately resolve the mysteries surrounding the Mayan calendar and its doomsday prophecy, one must explore the origins of the cultures that first rose to prominence in the Yucatán.
The first Mesoamericans were seminomadic, appearing in Central America around 4000 BC. Eventually they became farmers, developing corn, a hybrid of wild grass, as well as avocado, tomatoes, and squash.
Then, sometime around 2500 BC, He arrived.
He was a long-faced Caucasian with flowing white beard and hair, a wise man who, according to legend, arrived by sea along the Gulf of Mexico’s tropical lowlands to educate and impart great wisdom unto the natives of the region.
We now refer to these educated natives as the Olmec (meaning: dwellers in the land of rubber) and they eventually became the “Mother Culture” of all Mesoamerica, the first complex society of the Americas. Under the
influence of the “bearded one,” the Olmec would unify the Gulf region, their achievements in astronomy, mathematics, and architecture influencing the Zapotec, Mayan, Toltec, and Aztec—cultures which eventually rose to power over the next several thousand years.
Almost overnight, these simple jungle-dwelling farmers were suddenly establishing complex structures and extensive ceremonial centers. Advanced techniques of engineering were incorporated into the designs of architecture and public works of art. It was the Olmec who originated the ancient ball game, as well as the first method of recording events. They also fashioned great monolithic heads out of basalt, ten feet tall, many weighing up to 30 tons each. How these enormous Olmec heads were transported still remains a mystery.
Of greater importance, the Olmec was the frst culture in Mesoamerica to erect pyramids using an advanced knowledge of astronomy and mathematics. It was these structures, aligned with the constellations, that reveal the Olmec’s understanding of precession, a discovery that gave rise to the creation myth recorded in the Popol Vuh.
And so it was the Olmec, and not the Maya, who used their unexplainable knowledge of astronomy to create the Long Count Calendar and its prophecy of doom.
At the heart of the doomsday calendar is the creation myth, an historical account of an ongoing battle of light and good against darkness and evil. The hero of the story, One Hunahpu, is a warrior who is able to access the Black Road (Xibalba Be). To the Mesoamerican Indians, Xibalba Be equated to the dark rift of the Milky Way galaxy. The portal to Xibalba Be was represented in both Olmec and Mayan artwork as the mouth of a great serpent.
One can imagine the primitive Olmec, looking up at the night sky, pointing to the dark rift of the galaxy as a cosmic snake.
Around 100 BC, for reasons still unknown, the Olmec chose to abandon their cities and split into two camps, diversifying over two distinct regions. Those moving further west into central Mexico became known as the Toltecs. Those venturing east would dwell in the jungles of the Yucatán, Belize, and Guatemala, and would call themselves the Maya. It would not be until AD 900 that the two civilizations would reunite under the influence of the great teacher Kukulcán, in his majestic city of Chichén Itzá.