Tales from the Voynich Manuscript and the Island of Jan Mayen

by Alexander Copperwhite

  The noise came back again, almost as if it sensed Ana's feelings and was methodically, relentlessly tracking her to manipulate or, even worse, trap her. She backed up slowly and got ready to run.

  "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

  When a sparrow flew desperately towards the clearest window, Ana lost her composure, slipped and smacked her head as she turned to run away.

  Her scream and the sound of the panic-stricken sparrow repeatedly striking the window as it tried to escape brought Father Matthias running into the room armed with a stick in his hand, ready to do battle. But he immediately realized what had happened and went over to Ana.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "Yeah, yes."

  "Did it hit you?"

  "It's nothing. Being that scared hurts more than anything else."

  “But what is that smell?"

  Ana looked herself over, worried now that something else had happened.

  "Don't worry, it's not you," Father Matthias said to calm her fears. "It's coming from that door."

  He helped her up and headed towards the spot where the obnoxious odor was apparently coming from. A strong scent of something rotten mixed with dirty socks emanated from behind that door.

  "How strange!" he remarked, gripping the door handle.

  He opened the door, and the strange stench was overwhelming.

  "Good God!" he exclaimed, peering inside what appeared to be a cupboard. “It'll be a good idea not to open this door again."

  "What's inside there?" Anna asked.

  "A lot of spoiled cheese. It appears that this place was an old cheese factory. From the odor, I would swear it was Gouda cheese, although mixed with Roquefort and Appenzeller.

  *

  The fresh air dispersed the foul smells, relieving the nauseous feeling that descended from the roof of the mouth to the pit of the stomach and prompted an unbearable need to vomit.

  "Are you all right?" Father Matthias asked.

  "It's nothing, I'll be over it in a minute."

  Now recovered from the short-lived ordeal, the two approached the car where Carlos was shaking like a leaf in spite of being bundled up in the blanket.

  "We'll light a fire inside the factory, near the exit, so our new friend can warm up. The recovery is astonishing, like it was when we experimented with animals, but we can't be absolutely certain whether the transmission of the soul was completed without causing damage."

  "And that stench?"

  “That is the least of our problems now, don't you think?"

  Ana nodded in agreement.

  "What concerns me most is how to get enough water, food and clothing without attracting too much attention," Father Matthias continued. "But I prefer to rest now and decided what to do about all that tomorrow."

  "Then I'm going to go pick up some wood to light the fire."

  "OK, but no dry leaves or twigs. We have to try to lie low and not attract attention with too much smoke."

  "I'll see what I can find."

  "While you're doing that, I'll clean the place up a little. l'll rig something up to make a bed for Carlos from what I can find in the car later. We have to make him as comfortable as we possibly can."

  "See you in a bit," said Ana as she headed towards a nearby tree rotting on the ground.

  X – THE DAYS DO NOT MATTER

  When he left the food market, Father Matthias opened the palm of his hand to check the change the clerk had given him.

  "The things we don't have," he sighed.

  It was their eighth day of hiding out in the cheese factory. They had used up all their fuel, their mood swung between desperation and impatience, and what little money they had left was right there in front of his eyes. And worse still, Carlos was not improving as well as they had hoped and expected. It wasn't a question of running the risk of having one of Thomas' henchmen or informants recognize them. The fact was the time for waiting had run out on them and they would soon be forced to move.

  He checked that no one was following him and walked halfway through the village to reach the car he had parked close to the highway that ran by the forest. Once he sat down in the driver's seat, he put his head in his hands.

  He was back at the abandoned cheese factory in no time and feeling disheartened when he found Ana preparing a small amount of soup.

  "We only have enough food for a couple more days," Father Matthias said.

  "That was to be expected."

  Over the past couple days, Carlos had begun to utter a few words and connect them in short phrases and sentences but it took a major physical and mental effort on his part. Now he managed to stand up and said:

  "I owe my life to you. Tell me... Tell me what... I have to do."

  Father Matthias took him by the forearm and helped him to sit down again.

  "Your body still hasn't healed enough yet."

  "You two rescued me from dying."

  "Not exactly. More like we fixed you up while we prevented your soul from escaping.

  "I don't understand," said Carlos as he coughed.

  "You'll see, in the book..."

  "What book?"

  "... The Voynich Manuscript, are you familiar with it?"

  “The book that... could never be... deciphered.”

  "That's the one. Well, I managed to decipher a large part of it, and you can't imagine the wonders I found."

  "That is extraordinary," said Carlos and coughed again.

  "In fact, everything written in there is so simple. That is the reason why we didn't become aware of everything surrounding us before. We tend to look for complicated solutions to simple problems, when most of the time we only have to hold out our hand, obtain the necessary materials and apply them correctly.”

  "Resus...bring a dead person back to life..."

  "No," Father Matthias interrupted, "to stimulate the flow of blood at the same time as specific substances are applied to each injury suffered. The only thing left is to know enough to trap the soul in order to have all the time you need at your disposal, so that we don't have to worry about death. Truthfully, it's so simple that it's frightening.

  “Trap... trap the so... soul," Carlos repeated, stunned.

  "The people who wrote the manuscript discovered where the soul lived in every human being. And it's in one of our vertebra. Doesn't that strike you as extraordinary? They even gave it a name to distinguish it from the others."

  "What?"

  "The vertebra of God. To give you an idea of the importance it has," continued Father Matthias, enthused now as he showed Carlos the page in the manuscript, "these people managed to combine the scientific with the spiritual and found solutions for problems considered inconceivable even today. Check it out. Everything is present here, all described and detailed to perfection."

  "Does it... deal... deal with immor... immortality..., too?"

  "No, Carlos, it talks of becoming whole, of rebuilding, even improving some things, but no one can escape their destiny. Everything that ages and grows old has to die."

  The younger man scratched his head, lost in thought.

  "And what is it that you need from me?"

  "Your algorithm."

  "I don't under... stand. What does... my... my work... have to do with... with this manu... manuscript and its sec... rets?"

  "It is exactly what we need to reveal those secrets."

  "Why don't you just copy it? The distribution would be easy enough."

  "It's not just a question of copying it but of bringing it to the world, together with all the potential interpretations it could offer. The text is so simple but it's complex at the same time. The remedies for several illnesses are described on the same page. It all depends on the mind and the perspective with which it is read."

  “But... but my algorithm?... The lang.. uages of the pla... planet have noth... nothing to do with that wri... writing. "

  "Ah, that is where you are wrong, my friend, because this writing is created by mixing all the languages. A
knowledge both ancient and universal."

  “’’Well... in that case we... we must go to the mu... seum.”

  "No, not yet," objected Ana. "You're still too weak."

  "That doesn't mat... matter now. If we don't hur... hurry, the people who tried... tried to kill me... or actually ki... ki... killed me... they will try to get... get rid of my work."

  "I'm sure that at the time, they were concerned with doing just that," said Father Matthias.

  "Maybe, but... but they did not know any... anything about my back... back-up copy... for... safety."

  All three pairs of eyes shined brightly with joy. The flames from the fire blended into their shadows that slid along the walls of the abandoned cheese factory. Light and darkness, together and inseparable.

  XI – IN THE MUSEUM

  That same night...

  "I still don't understand the nature of your research, Professor Gabrieli."

  "Please, I insist that you call me Thomas."

  “I'm sorry, Thomas, but our customary practice...," said the director of the museum, arching his eyebrows.

  The dimly lit hallways they were walking down evoked images of bygone days, when the world was shaped by the force of words and the sword.

  "It doesn't matter. As for my research, I already told you that your name will be in headlines on the front pages when it is finished," Thomas told him, gripping his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "You will be famous the world over."

  "That part I understood, but I'm still not very clear on the details."

  "We'll see, but you have to trust me more. Besides, didn't all the authorizations and permits reach you? And weren't they all in order?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Then why don't you want to leave that feeling behind you?"

  "But, but..."

  Thomas abruptly headed for the office they had temporarily assigned him, the same one Carlos worked in before, leaving the museum director hanging in mid-sentence before he could finish his thought. Immediately after stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, Thomas turned off the lights, sat down at the simple pine table in the right corner and turned on the desk lamp. He took out a page full of crossed-out sections from a black leather briefcase, along with a ballpoint pen and began writing to complete unfinished sentences. When he was done, he crossed his fingers behind his neck and closed his eyes.

  "It appears the solution to our problem is taking longer than desired," said the man in the dark sunglasses, seated in a worn-out easy chair off in a dark corner.

  "It will be taken care of," asserted Thomas evenly, without becoming upset.

  "Do you honestly believe they will come to the museum? There's nothing here that could be of any use to them."

  "At least that we know about."

  "Are you implying that another copy of the algorithm exists?"

  "That kid Carlos was young, although you could also consider him a genius. If I was in his place, I wouldn't risk losing hours of work because of a power surge in the electrical grid, or a fire or robbery. Since the priest took the risk of saving his life, I'm betting he'll also take the chance of coming here in search of that algorithm."

  "Well, let's hope you're not wrong. If you are, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when the time comes to provide explanations to the master."

  "I'm not mistaken," said Thomas and continued crossing out words on the page in front of him.

  *

  The next day...

  Three reckless figures led by Carlos, who managed to stay on his feet only from sheer willpower, were waiting for the last visitor to leave the museum. Mixed in among the large number of cyclists typical of the city, the pedestrians on the street gradually headed off towards their homes. The handful of cars in the vicinity disappeared into private garages and the restaurants filled up with friends getting reacquainted with one another. When the guards closed the main entrance to the building, Carlos headed towards the back to go in through the employee entrance.

  "This way," he signaled, determined to hold his own in spite of how weak he felt.

  Wearing ill-fitting clothes stolen from the patio of a house near the forest, Carlos hoped the head security guard would come outside after making his customary rounds to confirm that everything was in order. Then he would try to convince him to let him go inside, although first Carlos knew he would have to prove that it was indeed him.

  He hadn't miscalculated and a little while later, a man who looked to be around 60 opened the door. The shock and surprise registered immediately on his face, which turned a whiter shade of pale as if someone had just tossed a glass of sticky milk on him.

  "Ca... Carlos?" he stuttered.

  The youth embraced him.

  "Yes, it's really me."

  "But you were dead. I saw you with my own eyes," he said, confused and pointing towards the site of the accident.

  "No, not at all. The people who tried to kill me didn't succeed."

  "Kill you? "Who would want to kill you?"

  "It's too long a story to tell you right now, and I promise I will some other time. But what I need right now is your help."

  The man took his hands away from his thinning hair, rubbing them together insistently. He looked directly at Carlos and answered decisively:

  "Count on me."

  *

  After so many hours toiling away, even Thomas' tireless eyes were starting to get a little bloodshot. Without betraying the slightest sign of being upset, he left the pen on the desk, straightened out his wrinkled shirt sleeves, and got up from the chair.

  "The time has come," he declared.

  The man in the dark glasses merely crossed his legs and said:

  "I have no doubts about your abilities at being a bastard son of a bitch, but I don't believe you are clairvoyant."

  "I know you and I don't get along," Thomas replied without glancing over at him, "and since you were so honest with me, I feel obligated to warn you that the next time you insult me, I'll cut open your belly with a trowel and rip out your guts."

  He opened the door and walked away from the office, headed for the room that served as headquarters for the security guards on duty. His skin felt silky smooth and he got goosebumps thinking of the power he held in his hands at that moment. The power to kill. He felt the pleasure of believing himself invincible when facing any fear-laden mere mortal who would have the nerve to confront him. You could say that he lived for finding and experiencing moments like this. He raised his arm, intending to emulate the flapping wings of a bird flying, and put his hands on every ancient object he felt like touching It wasn't about appreciating the value of the past, but rather the simple gesture of defying the rules, leaving his mark on everything that was prohibited. The "Do Not Touch" signs struck him as ridiculous.

  He could hear the steps of his prey more clearly every time he listened. He moved to the side, ducking into the shadows behind an arrogant knight and took advantage of the moment to take out his gun. He screwed on the silencer and hoped they would pass before too long. That way he could head towards the room where he would find the security guards.

  "Go to the office and I'll be along to take care of you right away," he thought.

  Once the four figures passed by and moved farther off into the distance, he lit a cigarette and continued inexorably on towards his target.

  "What's up, guys?" he asked nonchalantly the second he walked into the security office, pistol in hand.

  The two young guards were dispatched with a shot to the head before they had a chance to react. Intoxicated from a feeling of satisfaction and excitement, Thomas took a deep drag on the cigarette before snuffing it out in the eye of one guard.

  "That's for looking at me," he said breathlessly.

  He went over to the console and began pulling out all the cables connected to the hard drives recording all activity in the museum. The images disappeared from the monitors, cutting off the areas being recorded from any prying outside eyes. He only left a s
ingle monitor working.

  "Now I'm coming for you," he said to the monitor, patting the screen.

  *

  Meanwhile, everything in the office was turned upside down. They were in the dark since none of the lights worked, except for the desk lamp focused on the bookshelf at the back of the table.

  "What a mess!" exclaimed Carlos.

  The man in the dark glasses got up from the easy chair, clearly worried.

  "How is this possible?" he asked, trying to control his nervousness.

  Ana moved to one side, allowing Father Matthias to slip in front, fully intent on covering her.

  "Who are you?"

  "Me?"

  The uneasy silence only lasted a few seconds, although it seemed like an eternity had gone by.

  "Don't you worry," said the security chief to the others, "he's a guest of the museum director. He came along with Professor... what's his name?"

  Carlos relaxed and hurried toward the bookshelf.

  "Wait a minute," Father Matthias said, holding Carlos back. "What were you talking about when you asked how is that possible?"

  "Ummm, just the way you scared me. I was almost asleep when you came in."

  "And what were you doing sleeping in this office? Or better yet, why do you need to sleep in the museum?"

  The security chief didn't wait for an answer and roughly grabbed the man in the dark glasses.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Thomas came in and immediately shot the security chief in the head.

  "One less idiot," he said while everyone else froze, paralyzed by fear.

  XII – EVERYTHING DOES NOT ALWAYS GO WELL

  Bound with heavy adhesive tape, Ana and Father Matthias watched helplessly as Thomas gripped Carlos by the neck so he would reveal the place where he hid the back-up copy.

  "If I tell you, you'll kill us all," Carlos countered.

  Thomas was at a loss about what to do. There was no way he would leave them alive, a detail that no one doubted for a second and substantially reduced the likelihood of getting the information he wanted.

  "I won't kill you all," he declared, suppressing the smile on his mouth.

  Not even the man in the dark glasses believed him. Fed up with the impasse, he shrugged his shoulders and attempted to stifle his sardonic laughter.