Lemuria

by Burt Clinchandhill

  “That’s two.”

  “Then there’s pressure.” He added it to the coaster. “On Earth, our atmospheric pressure at sea level has a comfortable one thousand thirteen millibars. On Mars, it is only seven point five millibars. Many humans are susceptible to altitude sickness at pressures lower than seven hundred millibars.”

  “Two to go.” De Cremonese smiled at the young man. Most of it was common knowledge, but still, he recognized himself at that age, thinking he had all the knowledge nobody else could possibly have.

  “And there’s the amount of UV radiation created by sunlight, which is about sixty times higher than on Earth.” On the coaster, he wrote “UV.”

  “You better bring an SPF one thousand cream,” De Cremonese joked.

  “And a nice pair of sunglasses. And, finally, there are the contents of the thin atmosphere, which is mainly composed of carbon dioxide with a little bit of oxygen and nitrogen. Much like Earth looked in its early days.” “Oxygen” was the last thing he wrote on the coaster.

  He turned the coaster to De Cremonese. “So, how do we get a more constant temperature, higher atmospheric pressure, lower UV radiation and more oxygen?”

  “You need a thicker atmosphere,” De Cremonese answered.

  “Exactly,” the young man called out enthusiastically. “You need to cover Mars with a thermal blanket.”

  “And how do we do that?” De Cremonese asked, already knowing the answer, but he didn’t want to take away Gavino’s moment.

  “We create a greenhouse effect on Mars. Much the same way we did on Earth. In this case, we do it for the positive, to create a thermal blanket that will retain temperature, create a thick atmosphere with high pressure, and keep out most of the sunlight.”

  “And oxygen?”

  “That’s a bit of a different problem, but if you’ll hear me out.”

  “All right, keep going.”

  “You can keep the coaster, by the way.” Gavino smiled and shoved the coaster to De Cremonese. “So, two rockets, one on the way to the surface of the planet and one aimed at 5261 Eureka. I think they’re both on their way to start terraforming Mars.”

  De Cremonese gave a tiny smile. “Okay,” he uttered.

  “I’m dead serious.” Passion grabbed hold of Gavino.

  “I can see that.”

  “You taught me that astronomy is a science that you do purely for the joy of discovery. Look, let me explain. What if the rocket, directed at Mars, contains an atomic bomb?”

  De Cremonese worked hard to keep his face in shape, listening to the enthusiastic young man.

  “Again, please hear me out. It’s been suggested before to create a greenhouse effect on Mars by nuclear bombing the pole caps. The ice underneath the pole caps would melt and vaporize into the air, releasing CO2 needed for oxygen. That would release the greenhouse gasses needed for terraforming.”

  “And make the area completely inhabitable,” De Cremonese replied.

  “Only the pole caps. They would become radioactive for over a hundred years. But the gasses would spread over the entire planet, slowly starting the terraforming process. A free bonus would be that the water defrosted and, released by the process, would form new oceans all over the planet. Predictions are that, if melted, there’s enough water on Mars to fill the entire planet with an ocean eleven meters deep.”

  De Cremonese stroked his beard as he always did when he got excited. A tick he had from the first time he grew a beard in college. “But it’s also been calculated that there’s not enough CO2 left on Mars to increase the temperature or pressure on Mars.”

  “True again. But”—he took a big sip of his beer—“that’s where the second rocket comes in, the one heading for Eureka. Eureka contains ammonia—lots of it. The asteroid is in a stable orbit around Mars now, but should it be given a nudge, let’s say by a carefully aimed rocket, it would slowly descend to the surface as the orbit decays. Much of Eureka would burn up in the atmosphere and release water vapor containing the ammonia, adding to the greenhouse effect.”

  Interested, De Cremonese now bent over the table. “Of course, you don’t know if one asteroid has enough effect.”

  Both men now leaned over the table, their faces close to each other. “True,” Gavino agreed, “but you need to start somewhere, and with the two rockets combined, you’d create a hell of a testing ground to see the effects of terraforming the first planet in our solar system.”

  “It would be something,” De Cremonese agreed, nodding.

  “It would, wouldn’t it,” Gavino replied.

  Both men now leaned back into their chairs.

  “But it’s a lot of speculation,” De Cremonese added, getting down to Earth.

  “Sure, but that doesn’t make it untrue,” Gavino concluded, still in his passionate mode. “But, what I cannot figure out, is why it would be done in secret. There’s nothing illegal about it. Mars isn’t owned by anyone or any country.”

  De Cremonese took a deep breath. “I can think of two reasons. First, there’s public opinion. Nuking a planet might not fare well with everyone on this planet. So, when you do it in secret and it doesn’t work out, you simply deny involvement. On the other hand, when it was successful, you can still go public and take the credit for it.”

  “And the second reason?”

  “Well, you said there’s nothing illegal about bombing a faraway planet, and you’re probably right. But what about the nuclear materials? We talked about it before. About a dozen agencies—private and government—work on projects related to Mars. Now, if this is true, then who’s to say the party involved is legally using nuclear materials? If we’re talking about any of the major government institutions, why would they keep it a secret?”

  “You think it’s a private initiative?” Gavino asked.

  De Cremonese shrugged. “I think it’s a nice theory, but I still think it’s a whole lot of speculation.”

  “But it would make for a great story, wouldn’t it?” Gavino gave a bright smile, and took another big sip from his beer.

  De Cremonese looked at his watch, then took out his cellphone and looked at the screen. Three bars.

  “They put up an extra cell tower last month,” Gavino said.

  “Great, I need to make a quick phone call.”

  “Go ahead, but be quick because I can smell the burgers heading this way.”

  De Cremonese got up and moved to the far corner of the café, where he punched in a number on his phone and waited while it rang.

  After a few seconds, a voice sounded from the other side. “You’ve reached the voicemail of Amie Coleman. I’m not available at the moment, but you can leave a message at the end of the tone. If you want to be connected to a real person, please press one.”

  De Cremonese pressed one.

  A female voice sounded almost immediately. “I’m sorry, sir, but the number you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable.”

  “Yes, I know, thank you. But I think you can help me anyway. Can you please put me through to Mr. Eldin Mulder’s secretary?”

  “One moment, please, sir.”

  “Lamberto.” De Cremonese heard Gavino call out his name across the café. As he turned and looked at the table, he saw Meredith put two plates on the table, each with a huge white bun covered by an even larger beef patty, layered in cheese, topped with lettuce, onions, tomatoes and, of course, rings of green chili. On the side a large stack of fries was served.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter 14 – The Monument

  Trinil, The Present

  The Indonesian sun burned down on the terrace’s parasols at the Trinil Museum. Bishop tilted his head to the sun, which blinded him despite the sunglasses. “What does that mean?” he asked, upset.

  Lindsey frowned and pouted her lips. “That is the million-dollar question. The only thing we know for sure is that Jennifer and the Peruvian family have the same aberration in their blood. Something that no one else in the world has
.”

  “That we know of,” Ignatowski added.

  “Sure, that we know of,” Lindsey admitted.

  “Is there any chance this is all just a big coincidence?” Bishop asked.

  Both Lindsey and Ignatowski shook their heads. “I don’t think so.” Ignatowski tapped his fingers on the table. “They assured me that the chance of this happening in nature is one in the ten billion.”

  Lindsey took another sip of her coffee before addressing Bishop. “Do you have any idea what the relation between the two could be? I mean, between the Peruvians and Jennifer?” she asked.

  “Not really,” Bishop answered. “Given the facts, there’s the two as you referred to, and there’s the link to Haeckel and Dubois, doing their research in the late nineteenth century. Their only commonality I can think of is um... evolution.”

  “What do you mean, evolution?” Lindsey asked.

  “You said it yourself. Haeckel’s drawing of the ‘Tree of Life’ from ‘Stammbaum der Primaten,’ my paper ‘Evolution, the Mathematical Probabilities and Philosophical Implications of Proof’ and Trinil itself. The location of the first fossilized proof of our ancestors. And let’s not forget it’s Jennifer herself who is um... well, I don’t want to call it obsessed, but she’s quite busy with her theory about the evolution of AI.”

  “Can I get you another cup of coffee?” Mansoer shouted from behind the bar.

  Bishop looked around the table.

  Lindsey and Ignatowski shook their heads.

  “No, thank you,” Bishop called over his shoulder, then turned to the table again. “Everything we came across this far is about evolution, even the isolated tribe.”

  “How?” Ignatowski asked.

  “We, in our modern, western civilization, like to think of ourselves as standing on the top of the food chain. And perhaps that’s even true, but that also means there’s little incentive to grow. You see what I mean?”

  “No.” Ignatowski leaned back into his chair.

  “Not a clue,” Lindsey added. “What the frack are you talking about?”

  “All right, back to the original question.” Bishop waved both arms over the table. “How does an isolated tribe fit into the evolution theme? The proven fact is that evolution works faster on secluded people. For tens of thousands of years, maybe even millions, humankind and evolution kept up with each other. First, we lived in caves without proper clothing, and our bodies adapted to the weather. When we started farming, our minds grew, developing ways to work the land, and our bodies began standing straighter to handle the tools needed. That’s why we developed upper body muscles, etcetera, etcetera. Now, in the past two hundred years or so, we went from tools to technology, causing our bodies to come to a kind of standstill. If anything, the theory is that through evolution, we will lose things like upper body strength, and when computers can think for us, we will lose the ability to think for ourselves. I know it sounds farfetched, but our bodies over the years always adjusted to the needs, caused by our actions and surroundings.”

  “And the tribes?” Lindsey asked.

  “Okay, so the next step in evolution is more likely to be seen in tribes that are isolated from modern people simply because they evolve through inbreeding. The strong will survive and show the first signs of the next gene splicing, and the weak will perish. Their bodies and minds, at this moment in time, will be exactly fitted for the situation they live in. If you took them out of it and put them in our environment, they would never be able to adapt. Evolution simply couldn’t keep up. So, if you wanted to see how evolution works, you can use such a tribe for two things. One, you could use them as a time machine. If you dissected them, you could probably see how we looked a few thousand years ago.” Bishop took the last sip from his coffee.

  “And secondly,” Ignatowski asked impatiently.

  “Secondly, if you wanted to see how you could influence evolution, what better way to do that on a primitive species. If you were to experiment on them, you could see how they develop differently compared to how we developed to modern men. Look for the changes, so to say. And, of course, there’s the biggest advantage of experimenting with isolated tribes.”

  “Who would notice?” Lindsey added.

  “Or who would miss them?” Ignatowski finished.

  “Exactly.”

  “So why, or how, would you do it?” Ignatowski asked. “I mean, why would you experiment? To what goal, and how?”

  Mansoer approached the table. “You finished your coffee?”

  They all nodded.

  “Good, good, then if you’re ready, I would like to be your guide. I know everything about the museum, the diggings and the area. Just ask Mansoer,” he said with pride.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Bishop agreed, and the three rose from their seats.

  “Show us the way,” Lindsey suggested.

  “So, your investigation, what is it about?” Mansoer asked as they walked from the restaurant in the direction of a small glass building on the other side of a field.

  “We’re not quite sure ourselves,” Bishop replied. “We’re looking for anything related to the Pithecanthropus erectus.”

  “Then you’re in luck. We know everything about the Pithecanthropus erectus. Just ask Mansoer.”

  As they walked into the glass building, Ignatowski noticed there weren’t any doors. “You’re not afraid of theft?”

  “This is a very safe place,” Mansoer replied. “It’s far away from the main road, and to the locals, there’s nothing of value in here. Nothing you can eat. And, of course, we do have cameras and an alarm system.” He spread his arms through the hall. The space was about one hundred feet long and thirty feet wide. Glass showcases, divided into three rows, formed paths through the hot room beneath the glass roof.

  “Feels a bit like a greenhouse in here,” Ignatowski complained.

  “I’m sorry,” Mansoer replied. “It’s the glass. We love the light shining in from everywhere, and usually, we have working air conditioning, but it seems to be broken today. I’m sorry. Here we have fossils and replicas of fossils that were found in digs around our museum grounds. Anything specific you are looking for? Maybe I can interest you in our cervus hippelaphus antler fossil? It’s probably the oldest one ever found.” He pointed to a showcase in the first row, containing a calcified tube shape. “Or maybe the extraordinary findings of our six-foot fossilized ancient elephant tusk and molars.” He pointed to a showcase in the second row.

  Lindsey and Ignatowski both looked at Bishop in anticipation. “You took us here,” Lindsey reminded him with a smile.

  Bishop gave a deep sigh. “True.” He turned to Mansoer. “Actually, I think we’d like to start with anything related to the Pithecanthropus alalus, or Pithecanthropus erectus, you probably call it now.”

  “Ah, our prize findings,” Mansoer replied, pointing to the end of the hall. “Please follow me.”

  “You have a lot of nice fossils here,” Lindsey politely remarked as they crossed the path with the somewhat run-down showcases.

  “Some of these are actually very unique,” Mansoer replied.

  “I’m sure they are,” Bishop agreed. At the end of the hall, they stopped at a diorama behind a white cable barrier. The diorama showed wax statues depicting a man, woman and what looked like their son.

  “The Pithecanthropus erectus family,” Mansoer sounded proud as he waved his hand at the diorama.

  The diorama was simple. The wax statues were made of a dark brown color. On the floor were some pieces of straw, and in the back was an artificial bamboo bush, all set up in front of an ancient landscape painted on the back wall.

  “Do you mind?” Bishop asked, while putting one leg over the barrier.

  “No, please do,” Mansoer replied. “But please don’t touch anything. If you tell me what you’re looking for, I’m sure I can help.”

  “Maybe,” Bishop replied before turning his attention to Lindsey and Ignatowski by waving his hands to join him
on the other side of the barrier.

  “What do we look for?” Lindsey asked while stepping over.

  “Just look for anything out of the ordinary, anything written down, or that seems misplaced. Maybe something recent. I’m not sure.”

  The three dug through the area, scrutinizing every inch of the diorama. Ignatowski was down on his knees with a small flashlight sifting through the pieces of straw, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  “Mansoer?” Bishop asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What can you tell me about Eugene Dubois?”

  “Ah, just ask Mansoer. I can tell you everything about Mr. Dubois. Between 1891 and about 1900, Mr. Dubois did many excavations in the area, and apart from the hominin remains, he excavated thousands of other vertebrate and molluscan fossils. Wait....” He walked to the side of the hall, and with a key, he opened a showcase and took a wooden tray out of it. “Look here,” he called out enthusiastically as he walked back. The three moved up to the barrier.

  “What’s that?” Lindsey asked, looking at what looked like a long old bone and the top of a dark painted soccer ball.

  “That’s Dubois’s most important finding,” Mansoer replied. “Meet Pithecanthropus erectus, or alalus as it was first called.”

  “That’s it?” Ignatowski asked, widening his eyes. “That’s all of it?”

  Mansoer’s annoyance flared as he looked at Ignatowski.

  “Sorry,” Ignatowski reacted, folding both hands. “That’s not what I meant. No offense. I simply meant that there were only a few pieces found.”

  Mansoer turned to Lindsey and Bishop. “This is a femur.” He pointed to the long bone. “And this is the skullcap,” he said, pointing to the top of the soccer ball. “Of course, these are replicas. All the real fossils were moved to the Netherlands and are now housed at Naturalis in Leiden. Dubois, by the way, didn’t do the digging himself. He used hundreds of forced Indonesian laborers commanded by the Dutch army. Some digs were over thirty feet deep.”