Lemuria

by Burt Clinchandhill

  “Well, it’s a bit hard to see in this light. All the lines are numbered, and each number corresponds with a race here in the legend. The lines you see are much like how we monitor the movement and spread of animals all over the world today. In fact, the lines are long arrows, you see, here? There’s an arrow at the end of each line. They are like uh....”

  “They’re migration patterns,” Lindsey finished his sentence.

  “Exactly, that was the word I was looking for. On his map, Haeckel suggested that all human life started at one place and spread over the world following these lines and, on their way, they created new uh... offspring, you could say. New biological, humanlike species. He based his findings on his own and other scientists’ travels and people’s physics as he encountered them all over the world.”

  “And if they all originated from one place....” Ignatowski pointed to a gray spot on the map, from which all the lines seemed to originate.

  “Aha.” Bishop gave a big smile. “And that’s where the real fun starts, and the mystery begins.”

  “Now that part was named Lemuria by the English zoologist Philip Sclater. Sclater theorized that in the distant past, there was a land connection between Africa, Madagascar and South Asia. He substantiated his theory with the spread of species of lemurs in Madagascar and fossils found in India.

  Lemuria was suggested to have been roughly the size of the Indian Ocean. Later, the Tamils from the region adopted the theory and called it Kumari. They theorized that an ancient Tamil civilization resided there. The hypothesis is that sometime, millions of years ago, it sank beneath the ocean by a catastrophic event like a pole shift.”

  “Like Atlantis,” Lindsey proposed.

  “Exactly like Atlantis,” Bishop confirmed. “Now, Haeckel expanded on Sclater’s theory and connected Lemuria to his own theory of the twelve species and suggested they all evolved from one humanlike species that originated from Lemuria. According to him, it could also explain the theory of the absence of fossils from ‘the missing link’ we talked about earlier. Since we never found any, they must have been buried under the ocean with Lemuria. Now, the fact that—”

  “I read about Lemuria,” Ignatowski said, interrupting Bishop. “And I understand that the theory about its existence was debunked some time ago.”

  “Well, you’re right. The theory, by most scientists, has been rendered obsolete through modern theories of plate tectonics. There probably are sunken continents, like Zealandia in the Pacific and Mauritia and the Kerguelen Plateau in the Indian Ocean. But there’s no evidence of a geological formation beneath the Indian or Pacific Oceans that suggests an ancient land bridge.”

  “So, what does this have to do with why we’re here?” Lindsey asked.

  “You’re right, I’m rambling.” Bishop apologized. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is a possible relation to the ‘Stammbaum der Primaten’ that we found, or to Jennifer Porter.”

  “That’s all, no other relationships you can think of?” Ignatowski asked.

  “I can think of a few if I’d speculate, but nothing conclusive. Jennifer promoted research about evolution, Ernst Haeckel researched evolution, and so did I for that matter. So there’s the disappearance of several isolated tribes, the Haeckel text on the wall in a cave and a map of the twelve species.”

  “Is there anything out of the ordinary on the map?” Lindsey asked.

  “Yeah, like the writing on the wall,” Ignatowski added. “Something in the wrong sequence, or upside down or something.”

  “Well, not at first sight,” Bishop added. “But it’s a big drawing that I never studied, so I don’t have extensive knowledge about what this drawing should look like, so how am I to know something’s wrong?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Ignatowski raised two open hands.

  “I think we’re all tired from the journey and today’s finding. We should get some sleep first,” Lindsey suggested. “If the answer is indeed on the map, we stand a much better chance to find it in daylight.”

  Both men nodded.

  “Best idea yet,” Ignatowski replied. “I wish you both a good night’s sleep and see you in the morning.” He moved to one of the tents in the back, and within seconds, the sound of a zipper sounded loudly through the rain forest.

  “Here we are again.” Lindsey grinned.

  “What did you say how long it was, twenty years?” Bishop poked the fire.

  “Give or take a few.” She snuck up to him, close to the fire. “Do you ever think of what could have happened between us?”

  Bishop put his head in his hands. “Sometimes. As I recall, you were the one who left in a hurry after college.”

  “I know,” Lindsey confirmed. “And that’s something I regret every now and then.”

  “Good.” Bishop grinned. “And now, are you married?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “Nope, never had the time, or the guts, I guess. Shortly after I finished college, my parents both died in a car crash. After that, I just wanted to leave the past behind and start anew. I moved to the east coast and got a job at the Trump Organization. Not a comfortable workplace, I can tell you. And the rest is history.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I never knew.”

  “I understand. It’s been twenty years now, so.... And what about you? What have you been up to?”

  “Ha. You have me at a disadvantage. You’ve already researched me.”

  “Only your professional career. Nothing personal.”

  “Okay, well, let’s see. I don’t know if you remember, but I lost my mother quite early in life. I was raised by my father, who was a traveling salesman for Boeing business jets, and together we traveled around the world a lot when I was little. But the first chance I had, I left my father’s house and rented a room nearby. My father is still okay, retired, and plays golf in Florida. For me, I guess the traveling stuck. I still love to travel around the globe and, if possible, combine my journeys with some kind of research. And, of course, there’s teaching. Teaching, traveling and fishing.”

  Lindsey smiled and shook her shoulders. “Sounds like a fulfilling life.”

  “Are you cold?”

  She gently shook her head.

  “Here.” Bishop took his fleece jacket off and put it over her shoulders.

  “Exactly the gentleman I remember,” she said, thanking him.

  “Another thing I sometimes regret.” He exhaled.

  Lindsey put her head on Bishop’s shoulder as they watched the fire. For a long moment the crackling of branches catching fire, and the following sparks rising into the heavens, were all that disrupted the perfect silence.

  “What do you think?” Bishop broke the silence after a few minutes.

  Lindsey chuckled softly. Then she took her head from his shoulder, and with her hazel eyes she gazed into his. “I think that when we get home again, maybe we should get a drink sometime.”

  Bishop lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe, yeah. Sure, why not?”

  Another few minutes, they stared into the fire before each moved to their own tent, leaving the fire dying into the night. The rainforest became quiet again except for the sound of a single night bird.

  ***

  At about six in the morning, the first rays of sunshine warmed up the tents, and Lindsey unzipped the doorway. Still orienting herself, she came out and went to last night’s fire.

  Bishop, sitting next to a small gas burner stove with a coffee pot on top of it, watched the woman shuffle toward him. Next to the fire, he’d already spread out Haeckel’s map again. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Coffee,” she replied, stretching out both arms.

  Bishop immediately poured her a cup. “After a few hours, I must have fallen into a deep coma, but at first, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the map.”

  “And did you come up with anything?”

  A zipper sounded from behind the two, and Ignatowski stuck his head out of the tent. “Good
morning.”

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Lindsey said.

  “How long have you been up?” Ignatowski asked.

  “About an hour,” Lindsey replied, winking at Bishop, who smiled and left it at that.

  “Coffee?” Bishop asked, already pouring.

  “Thank you,” Ignatowski said, still half asleep. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Lindsey was just about to tell me what epiphany she had in her tent about the map before falling asleep last night.”

  Lindsey took the mug from her mouth and made a hissing sound. “There’s no better feeling than a cup of hot coffee in the morning. Well, nothing groundbreaking. I figured that the error made in the ‘Stammbaum der Primaten’ was made possible because whoever wrote it in the clay, simply wrote it that way. With the map, that wouldn’t have been a possibility. You see?”

  Bishop squinted his eyes. “Could it be it’s a bit too early for riddles?”

  “I concur,” Ignatowski agreed.

  “All right. Let’s see. We talked about something on the map that would be in the wrong sequence or upside down. Since the map is printed and not drawn by hand, that wouldn’t be likely. So, if there’s anything off on the map....”

  “It would have been added.” Bishop nodded.

  “Exactly,” Lindsey agreed.

  Bishop took the map from the ground and put in on his lap.

  “So we’re looking for something added to the map,” Ignatowski said while he and Lindsey moved in, closer to Bishop. “This thing is full of lines, colors and text.”

  “I agree.” Lindsey sighed. “If anything was added, it could take days before we find it. The best way to find it is to place another copy of the map next to it.”

  For the next three minutes, they drank their coffee in silence, staring at the map on Bishop’s lap.

  “We need to think in the way that someone who would leave a message would think.”

  “Huh?” Ignatowski scratched his head. “Bugs,” he complained.

  “Well, if you were here and you wanted to leave a message on this map and, let’s assume that you wouldn’t want anyone else to notice your message immediately. How would you do it?”

  Ignatowski frowned. “Why would you think the intent was not to let anyone recognize the message?”

  Lindsey looked him straight in the eye. “Because, otherwise, that person would have written the message on the paper.”

  Ignatowski shook his head. “Sorry. Not quite awake, I guess.”

  “Wait one second,” Bishop called out, and he turned the drawing over and looked at the blank back.

  “What are you looking for?” Lindsey asked as Bishop turned the paper at various angles into the sunlight. He tilted his head against the light, closed one eye, and lay his head almost flat on the paper, looking over it. “What?” Lindsey insisted.

  Bishop kept silent as if zoned out. He stretched his arm over the paper, carefully feeling the paper structure underneath his finger. Somewhere in the middle, he stopped and took a deep breath. Keeping his finger locked in place, he turned the rustling paper back over again. With his other hand, he now searched for his finger under the paper. Where he found his finger, he stopped.

  “Here.” He pointed at the paper.

  They looked at the place where Bishop slowly removed his finger from the map. Almost simultaneously, they moved their heads closer to the spot.

  “How?” Ignatowski asked.

  “Simple,” Bishop replied. “If someone added something to the map, they would probably have done it with a pen or a pencil. The force of the pen would leave an imprint on the other side. This is the only place on the back with an imprint.”

  “Where is that?” Lindsey looked closer.

  “It’s an island in Indonesia,” Bishop concluded. “There’s no text added to the islands, but there is something else added to it. What is it?”

  “Is that an F or...?” Ignatowski remarked.

  “An A, or J, perhaps?” Lindsey asked. “Or a T, maybe?”

  “Could be any one of those,” Bishop concluded, looking over the rest of the map. “There’s no single letter anywhere else on the map, only full names and numbers. We must be on the right track.”

  “May I?” Ignatowski asked, reaching for the map.

  “Sure.” Bishop gave him the map.

  “What is it, Iggy?” Lindsey asked him.

  Ignatowski moved his finger over the map surrounding the island with the single letter, and mumbled, “Malaysia, Borneo, Sumatra, Java.” He tapped his finger on the map. “It must be Java.”

  “How do you know?” Bishop asked.

  “My mother was born in Indonesia, in Cimahi, to be precise, on Java.” He grinned.

  “Great,” Lindsey spoke. “Now, we only need to know what’s so special on Java with an F, A, J, or T.”

  Bishop chuckled, turning the heads of Lindsey and Ignatowski. “Haeckel, evolution, Java, and something with a letter. I think I have the answer. The letter must be the T, and that can only mean one thing: Trinil.”

  Chapter 9 – The Space

  Granite Bay, CA, The Present

  Mulder had the Logynous headquarters on Park Road in Granite Bay, California, built close to his parents’ home and right on top of Folsom Lake, where he and his parents often camped during summer weekends, after they immigrated to the U.S. In his own words, he bought the two-hundred-acre piece of land for a steal at an estimated $150 million. In two and a half years and $5 billion later, Mulder had the five-story, more than one mile across perfectly circular structure built. Today, the 310,000-square-foot building houses eight cafés, with seating for over five thousand employees, serving up to fifteen thousand lunches a day. The theater seats fifteen hundred guests, and the two wellness centers could serve up to two thousand people a day. Cars parked underground. Mulder had made a promise to the broader community to keep the vehicles out of sight from the lake.

  From the lakeside, the green concrete circular structure could hardly be seen through the tree line of over one hundred thousand blue oak trees, right behind the lake’s shore. Most of the trees were re-planted from where they’d been removed, in order to create construction land for the new headquarters. On the inside of the circle, extensive gardens full of fruit trees and vegetables, served the restaurants inside the building, making it self-sufficient in food production. Inside the gardens was a small park. In the exact center of the building, below a round black roof, a vending stall made fresh smoothies. From the air, the black top looked just like a pupil giving the Logynous headquarters the nickname ‘The Eye.’

  One other thing stood out. Mulder had demanded that on exactly every quarter of the compass, a five hundred-square-foot playground was constructed, complete with X-boxes, air hockey tables, table tennis, and virtual reality setups.

  Now, on any given day, over fifteen thousand employees could be found inside the building. But never at night. Unlike his predecessors, E-Tech moguls, Mulder claimed to take good care of his workers, and at night the building was in complete lockdown. No one—except a handful of staff—was allowed inside the building at night. It was mandatory to distance yourself from your work during out of office hours. Overtime was out of the question. If you couldn’t do your job during normal office hours, the task was defined in the wrong way, or—and this option, according to Mulder, was much more likely—you were the wrong person for the job.

  Amie sighed as she looked at her watch. Almost nine p.m. She had already canceled the dinner date she had with a friend, again, but found herself lucky she didn’t have much of a social life to begin with. The building might have been empty at these hours, but at least four days a week, she was tied to her desk, finishing up some kind of report or presentation for Mulder to give in the early morning. Granted, Mulder himself was working at least six nights a week, of which at least four were in his office next to Amie’s. But not tonight. Tonight, Lean, in the upper right corner of the screen, told her she was completely alone,
and that was precisely how she had wanted it, given the nature of her business tonight.

  Lean was an adapted version of the Lea AI, specially programmed to run security for the building. Lean’s avatar looked exactly the same as Lea but was recognizable through her light brown hair and eyes, where Lea was blonde with blue eyes.

  Everyone inside was automatically logged in and out, through facial recognition, and Lean monitored every single movement in and around the building. There wasn’t even any security personnel inside the building. Outside, on the edge of the terrain, was a small security post with two guards who watched a handful of monitors with images from the grounds and outside of the building. Lean took care of the rest and was able to shut down parts of the building, locking in trespassers and call the guards or authorities, all by herself.

  At night, the big empty building sometimes gave Amie the creeps, knowing she was utterly alone in the building that had housed fifteen thousand people a few hours before. Now, as she stepped away from her mahogany desk for a moment, she thought she heard a sound. Not just a crackling or ticking sound like from a fridge or the shrinking or expanding of metal or wood—sounds she was used to hearing at night—but more of a shuffle of feet. She turned around to her computer screen. The text beneath Lean’s brown-haired avatar said, ‘One person located in the building.’ Amie walked into the doorway from her office to the hall.

  “Hello,” she shouted into the long, empty hallway. Nothing, not a single sound, but her echo returned. She sat back behind her computer again and clicked her mouse. At that exact moment she heard it again. She kept absolutely quiet now and listened. For a minute, there was nothing, and then, there it was again. She clicked on Lean and said. “Lean, please tell me who else is in the building.”

  The avatar immediately came to life, blinked a few times, and spoke. “Only you are, Miss Coleman,” the lifelike head on the screen spoke in her somewhat cold voice.

  Amie walked to the doorway again and listened. She heard the sound again, and this time she was almost sure it was dragging footsteps from just beyond the corner of the hallway. “Hello,” she shouted again. Nothing came back except for the shuffling sound. Somewhat panicking now, she took her cell phone from the desk and went out of her office on the other side, and entered Mulder’s empty office where the lights came on automatically.