The Cost of a Mistake
Miyas, a Rian, and three others were manning the fuel transfer controls at the back of the wide and deep lower stage. A replica of a large switch, a symbolic switch King Arth would flip to mark the end to the twenty-six-year project and start the fueling process to the ship, was at the center of the upper stage. On the right side of the lower stage, except for Amo Obib and Ningning who would view the event from the pyramid ship’s monitor, was where the remaining Rians would sit. The elegant chairs at the center were for King Arth and Commander Nerus, who represented Amo Obib. Left of it was for dignitaries. Floodlights lighted the pyramid spaceship and was the stage’s backdrop. The ship itself lighted up in different color patterns and was an awesome display to watch.
“Initiate the fuel line purging,” Miyas called out to two Rians operating the purging controls. The two set switches and dials at their respective console.
Miyas went over to Caloy who operated a large wheel on the raised platform at the upper stage. The wheel controlled the miniscule amount of anti-matter that would purge the fuel line of contaminants before actual fuel transfer could take place. “Caloy,” he said, “you are the only one that controls the amount of anti-matter that goes into the fuel line. Make sure the needle stays dead center in the green area of the dial.”
“If it went beyond, will it blow up the planet?” Caloy candidly asked.
“Nothing of that kind. We will be handling a miniscule amount of anti-matter during line purge. And, there will be no explosion but an implosion. You see, anti-matter is highly attracted to metal and has enough pull to leap to it five miles away. On contact, it will destroy its atomic structure and generate heat so intense that it will incinerate organic matter miles around in a second. Can you imagine what will happen to this civilization knowing that metal acts as a conductor for anti-matter?”
Caloy gave it a serious thought and in shock replied, “The entire region is wired to Atlantis by electrical, communication, transport lines, and rail tracks! Large buildings are built with structural steel and wooden structures have metal nails. It will incinerate the whole area! Atlantis and the regions around will vanish from the face of this planet and leave no trace. How come I know of its destructive power only now?”
“Prevent needless anxiety,” Miyas answered. “We have full control over the process and instituted measures to prevent that to ever happen. The information is passed on ‘need to know' basis. That is why I am telling you now and your sole role is to turn the wheel counterclockwise to shut-off if anything goes amiss. For safeguards, we have five minutes to react before the dial reaches the red area, a minute for it to reach its limits, and ten seconds more when the final warning siren is activated, and all that needs doing is turn the wheel counter-clockwise to ‘shutoff’ position. I will be watching the gauge at a distance too and can shut it off from my console as another safeguard and that is the reason why the dial is extra-large. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“When the line purge is done, we will wait for King Arth to formally flip the big switch to start actual fueling. It will take a little over eleven hours to fill the fuel tanks. Purging will take exactly forty-five minutes. By then, the king, his guest will be here and seated. Are you set?”
“Yes,” Caloy answered.
Miyas went back to his control console and noticed the Migrants cleaning both the upper and lower stages, and the grounds around. He thought nothing of it. He turned on switches on his console then signaled Caloy to begin the purge process.
Caloy flipped a switch then slowly turned clockwise the wheel as he watched the gauge’s dial move to dead center of the green area and let go of the wheel. Underground and for the first time, the massive Atomic Converter hummed. The purging process had begun.
Summer is here
King Arth was entertaining his guests at the palace dining hall. He was in his best mood and was euphoric---he had accomplished his dreams: being respected not only as a king but as a man; of having a beautiful city he was so proud of; and, most of all, the burden in fulfilling a promise to Amo Obib that meant so much to him.
Commander Astig, officer-in-charge of security at the stadium, was in his formal soldier’s uniform. His headgear held under his left arm on his side. He entered the dining hall and spotted his king chatting with guests at a distance. With a smile pasted on his lips, he walked casually towards the king weaving through dining tables lavishly filled with food and with guests seated around, some with their children. He stopped a step away from the seated king who was having a lively chat with someone. Unaware of his presence, he casually smiled to guests who looked in his direction. On the first opportunity, he made his presence known to the king. The king acknowledged his presence; stood; and took a step next to the commander. The king’s right ear slightly turned towards the commander’s lips who spoke in a low voice. The king’s happy mood changed abruptly but hid his concern outwardly. He excused himself diplomatically from the guests he was with, smiling as he did, and then followed the commander. Along the way, he got his personal aide, Dodot, and, together, they headed for the adjacent building.
It was a holiday; the building was unoccupied. A posted soldier opened the main door wide enough for them to pass and closed it behind them. The sounds of footsteps reverberated as they walked on the marbled floor of a wide hallway. Ahead, the building’s well-lighted atrium. When they got there, the king saw two tied men kneeling on the marbled floor guarded by soldiers. Close-by were swords piled on top of a spread blanket. Commander Astig explained, “There are fifty swords there, Your Highness. They were accidentally found bundled on that same blanket not far from the stage. More maybe hidden and my men are searching discreetly. Only a few trusted men know of this.”
“Good,” the king commended.
“We traced the swords back to the palace armory. On investigation, we found these in place of real swords.” Commander Astig showed a wooden replica of sword handles glued together. “It made them look as though real swords were in the upper shelves.”
King Arth examined the wooden handles then asked, “How many?”
“I estimate over four-thousand, the exact number will come soon.”
“And these men?” the king asked looking at the tied captives.
“The one right is the Armory Supervisor. In line with our investigation, we went to the supervisor's house and found him struggling with the assassin, the man next to him, and came to his rescue. For that reason, the supervisor is very eager to talk. Your Highness, General Mismar is behind this.”
The shock on the king’s face was obvious. Mismar was the last person he would suspect. Finding it hard to believe asked, “How sure are you?”
“Certain, Your Highness. General Mismar dealt directly with the Armory Supervisor and the assassin happens to be the general’s personal aide and he talked too. Your Highness . . .” he hesitated and seemed uncomfortable to continue.
The king noticed the hesitation. He said, “If it has something to do with the prince, tell me now.”
“The assassin led us to a secret tunnel in a room not far from dining hall. We sealed the tunnel in that room as a precaution. The assassin said the other end of the tunnel led to . . .” he hesitated again as he looked at the King.
“Led where?” the King snapped impatiently.
“To your son’s . . . Prince Obib’s courtyard,” he answered. He paused then continued on the king’s silence, “For the past few days, staggered numbers of people entered the prince’s compound and only a handful left. Your Highness, I sense a tension in the air amongst the soldiers.”
The king pondered on what was reported. He glanced at the armory supervisor and recalled Mismar telling him in confidence that he suspected the prince had plans to overthrow him once the ship is fueled. To which, the king planned to discreetly arrest his son and hide him right after the ceremonies that evening. He did not want the inauguration marred by a scandal or Amo Obib
to know. With the supervisor out of the way, regardless of who wins, Mismar will find himself on the winning side. He stared at the swords on the floor as he pieced bits of information together then realized Mismar’s information may be a decoy. He could not risk misjudging, and decisively said to Commander Astig, “Arm the men at the stadium; reinforce the security at the stage, and around the ship immediately. Get the Stadium Commander to secure and bring all the Rians inside the pyramid ship and have them close all entries. Do the same to all entries to the Atomic Converter underground. Do it now and fast.”
“The Rians wants no military presence,” the commander reminded.
“They do not know what is good for them. Go,” he ordered.
“Yes, Highness,” he said, and left hurriedly.
The king called Dodot and said, “Find General Sarif at the banquet hall and tell him, ‘Summer is here.’ He knows what to do. Then, after, summon Mismar and the prince here. Be very discrete as I want no one, especially the prince, to suspect.”
“I know what to do, Your Highness,” Dodot replied and hastily left.
The Big Snake
Mismar, in his formal robe, was escorted by Dodot and two soldiers. When they got to the building’s atrium, the soldiers held Mismar’s arms and Dodot bound his hands tightly at the wrist. Mismar was not surprised and offered no resistance.
“Why, Mismar?” the king said then, lost for words, walked away.
Mismar motioned forward but was held back by a soldier. The king saw what Mismar did and signaled the soldier to let him go.
Mismar, with hands tied in front of him, rushed to the king’s side. “Why?” Mismar retorted in a low angry voice. “You did nothing when you knew well the prince was plotting to overthrow you. And when he does, where will my family be. I have six adoring children and a wife. I will do anything . . . anything,” he stressed, “to protect my family . . . even betray you. All those loyal to you are in grave danger because you did nothing to protect them. It is I who should be asking you, why?”
“Why?” the king repeated despairingly in a low voice only Mismar could hear, “Many times the question rang in my head, ‘Why not cut the snake's head while it is easy to hold’ and every time I'd say, 'Trust him, love him, show him what love and care can do and he will see things differently tomorrow'. I was buying time. When did you turn to his side?”
Mismar replied, “Remember the day I warned you of the snake growing in your midst? You got mad knowing I was referring it to your son. The worst part is you did nothing to my warning . . . nothing!”
“We can still work this out,” the king said in a low voice as he held his arms and looked him in the eyes. The king was desperate. Mismar was the only left of his three good friends. He did not want to lose him, more so, to render judgement for his betrayal as he realized Mismar had valid reasons to betray him. “We fought so many battles we thought we'd lose and ended up winning. I'd forget this ever happened. I will not abandon you.”
“Things are different now, my dearest friend,” Mismar said in a sad, subdued voice. “The snake has grown too big . . . It is too late.”
The king knew how good Mismar was on his intuitions and relied on his foresight and advise before he made major decisions. “Is it that bad?”
Before Mismar could answer, footsteps echoed from the hallway.
“You are still a dear friend. Forgive me for I have to do this,” King Arth whispered then struck Mismar’s face violently knocking him down on the ground; kicked him several times; then dragged him towards his soldiers showing revulsion and disgust.
The prince accompanied by fifty armed men saw how the king kicked General Mismar and saw his aide tied and kneeling a few feet away. He nonchalantly looked at Mismar with hands bound and lips freshly bleeding being held up by two soldiers. He noticed the blood on the king’s knuckles as the king wiped it off with his handkerchief. He coldly and arrogantly said, “I can tell you have unearthed my plans to which your loyal commander, Astig, is now dead,”
The king ignored the prince's remarks but noticed the air of confidence only noticeable of someone in full control of the situation. Now he understood what Mismar meant . . . ‘a big snake.’ “Do you have to resort to insurrection when I assured you of being the heir to my throne,” King Arth asked.
To which the prince replied passingly, “My ambition does not include waiting.”
“Your ambition?” the king said in rhetoric. “Your ambition has blinded you. All these years I hoped and prayed that you would see things differently. See what was accomplished ruling with love and respect for our people. It is not late. You can . . .”
“Ah, love and respect,” the prince repeated mockingly. “Love has nothing to do with it . . . power,” the prince roared.
“Power has consumed you. There is something far greater than power . . . love, my son is the ultimate power, and I know that to be true. I have seen the wonders it brought. Our kingdom has grown a hundred folds without a drop of blood spilled. Never have we experienced peaceful coexistence with everyone. All these brought about by love and care for . . .”
Prince Otil interrupted his father and sarcastically said, “You talk of love as though it can stop a sword swung to cut your neck . . . a sword can. You talk of love as though you can get respect from robbers stealing your robe and sandals . . . a sword can.”
“You must understand the power of love,” King Arth replied desperately. “It is not something that will change things instantly but in time will change everything for the better.”
“The sword is power. You yourself taught me that.”
“I said that long ago and was wrong. If I proclaimed you king in return for the safety of the Rians . . . compassion and kindness to the people associated to me, will you take it?”
“Compassion and kindness?” the prince scuffed. “I feel nothing by being compassionate. Nothing from being kind but I feel like a man, a king, a god when I see people beg for mercy for their life. Power is everything.”
“You are so wrong. Power is not everything. Listen before it destroys you, for in the end, you will surely loss. I was like you once, obsessed and consumed at getting to the top. The struggle and the battles fought had me too occupied to see the miseries I brought to people as I ruthlessly pursued my goal. When I finally got to the pinnacle of power, at the very top, and looked around, my son, hear me and hear me well . . . when I got there, I found nothing but a desert . . . a vast empty and lonely place devoid of life. Standing there, I asked myself, ‘Is this all I get? Is this my reward for all the pain, suffering, and death I brought?
“The Rians came at the right moment in my life. They showed me the other way to the top. I tried it and when I got there and looked around, I found myself in paradise surrounded by happy people. Take my kingdom for what it’s worth, my son. I give it to you with all my heart and if my presence makes you insecure, I will exile myself, never to return. But you must give your word to help the Rians leave this planet.”
Infuriated, Prince Otil reacted, “I despise the Rians for what they have done to you! You were once a real and mighty king I was so proud of. A man! Now you talk to me like . . . like a woman ruling a kingdom you so proudly speak. The Rians have turned you to a weakling who convince and ask people. A king does not convince, he commands! A king does not ask, he takes!” he shouted. Lowering his voice, he said, “Being a titular king to a federated form of government is not my idea of ruling. Besides, your kingdom is too small. I want to rule the world and the power to do it is within my grasp.
“I would have considered your offer if you had a kingdom to give. However, you have none. The kingdom stands by the might of its army. Something you taught me and something you forgot. See what love and care brought you,” the prince then addressed the soldier behind the king and said with authority, “Soldiers who stand with me, stand behind me now.”
King Arth watched as his men passed and stood behind the prince’s men then more followed, leaving him, Dod
ot, and eight of the fifteen soldiers after.
Mismar walked to the prince with bound hands extended and with a grin on his face.
The prince grinned back then took a sword from a soldier’s sheath and said, “Mismar is your most trusted friend. For you, my father, I will give what is due him.” The prince swung his sword at Mismar’s neck and severed his head. Mismar's head rolled on the floor, its eyes remained open while its decapitated body went through spasms on the floor. The prince moved to the side to avoid the squirting blood from its neck. He was amused at the horrible sight as the bound hands and its legs thrashed about from a headless body. He laughed, entertained at the gruesome spectacle. His men laughed with him.
When Mismar’s headless body remained still, the king, resigned to how evil his son had become, asked aloud. “And how do you intend to control the other head of states and provinces?”
“Some have pledged allegiance to me and the rest will just have to die tonight,” the prince answered casually then aloud, “King of kings, Ruler of the World and with the Rian's technology, Lord of the Universe,” the prince arrogantly bragged with his hands flailing in the air. “You have been ruling an imaginary kingdom for years, my father. Think of what ‘wealth and power’ did to your kingdom of ‘love and care’.” He paused then said in a different tone, “For your life, pretend that you are still king. I do not want the Rians to suspect and the refueling disrupted . . . if that can be avoided.”
“You are a misguided man,” the king said in resignation. “I pity you. My life will not be enough to pay for the countless lives you will take as king to fulfill your worthless dreams of grandeur. I'd rather die than give in.”
“That is something I hope to avoid, but that can be arranged,” the prince coldly replied.
The king said forcefully, “We have a tribal law which states: If the son wishes to take over his father's rule, he must fight for it in combat.”
“I make the laws. Your life is not worth fighting. Think of what will happen to those loyal to you. There are still a lot of them and their life is dependent on yours. You die . . . they die.”
“I see no bargain there,” the king responded. “My living or dying will not alter their fate . . . I always thought of you as stupid and a coward!” mocking aloud, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Coward!” retorted the prince. “I always wondered who the better swordsman was. Give my father a sword and no one intervene. To the victor, the spoils go. To the death.”
“To the death,” King Arth echoed taking off his robe over his tunic, his thin rimmed crown, and took the sword Dodot offered.
The two men slashed at each other as the soldiers watched a contest to the death. The king and prince had equal skill that the duel was a match to watch. Soldiers, heightened by the skillful display of swordsmanship by both, cheered their champion expertly parry swings and stabs. But the prince had the edge as the duel dragged on---his youth. Soon the toll of the years showed on the king's skill and the confident prince started to play and boisterously humiliating him as they fought.
The king paid no attention to the prince's mockery but concentrated on parrying his strikes. He knew his only chance of winning now was to get his son to talk himself out of breath. He did not make it obvious but struck back timing it at the middle of the prince's sentences.
A minute later, the king said as they paused to rest, “You are much better than I thought,”
The prince replied as he took deep breathes. “You taught me well, my father.”
“Too well for your own good,” the king answered.
“It is time to take my turn to the throne. Your death is coming.” The prince suddenly launched at his father with his sword. The king parried the strike and they continued to duel with the prince giving it all he could for the kill this time around.
The king taught his son well but not all. At the right moment, he made his move and got the prince to drop his sword. As he held his sword in air for the final blow, the king hesitated. He saw his wife’s frightened face over his son’s face. Then he saw the prince go for his dagger but his sword froze in the air. In that fleeting moment, the prince stabbed his father. The slim, sharp knife pierced the king’s chest and its tip stuck out of the king’s back, red in blood.
The king dropped his sword from his raised arm then held on to his son. As he slipped and with his last breath, he said, “I love you, my son,” then limply fell to the floor dead with eyes wide open; mouth with blood that crept out of it and slid down his right cheek then dripped on the floor.
Unceremoniously, the prince took the thin-rimmed crown held by a soldier and, with both hands, he crowned himself. He then turned to his men and, referring to his father's remaining loyal soldiers, made his first king's command, “Kill them.”
Fight for the Rians
The new king, King Otil, was unaware that at the time he was summoned to see the king, General Sarif was at the dining hall and was told, ‘Summer is here’. The general excused himself from the people he was with and hurriedly left the hall. He went directly to a room, a short distance away, where a number of his special military officers were instructed to remain in hiding. On entering the room, he said aloud, “Men, we have secretly planned for months to an event we hope will not happen. It has come and you have your instruction. Go!” He turned to someone by his side and said, “Light the rooms and hurry.”
At the stadium grounds, one high-rise public building of the many around the park was clearly visible. Three of its windows at the fifth floor were lighted. The majority of people at the grounds did not notice it and to those who did, thought it insignificant. However, to the men wearing day-to-day robe that hid their soldier’s uniform and fully armed, it was significant. Instructed not to ran, they hurriedly walked to their assigned location to secure it without arousing suspicion from the crowd. Their instructions were to secure all facilities associated to the refueling of the Rian ship.
The Stadium Commander saw the three lighted rooms and acted immediately. He instructions was to secure all the Rians; bring them to their ship; and have them seal all ship entries. Unlike Commander Sarif whose men were instructed to hide their identity as soldiers, the Stadium Commander’s order was to visibly show military presence in force. His men, in soldier’s uniform, were fully armed, and remained hidden in five separate buildings nearest to the stadium. They numbered five-thousands altogether and emerged out of the buildings in haste to secure their assigned orders.
At the stadium grounds, people milled around waiting for the final program to start. Except for Amo Obib and Ningning, the rest of the Rians were somewhere near or on the stage. Miya’s crew was at their post. Changlai and the men he supervised were still cleaning the area on and around the stage. To the left of the lower stage, a Migrant ran to Changlai. “Armed soldiers are coming from both east and west,” he said in a hurry.
Changlai acted on the information and hurriedly went up to the upper stage. He saw soldiers with swords drawn running towards the stage. He jumped back to the lower stage; stumped the floor three times; and at the top of his voice shouted, “Taypa lasi.” Four hundred armed Migrants stormed out from under the stage. Those cleaning the area got their swords from its hiding. Elsewhere, women in their robe distributed swords to those who, minutes earlier, were just strolling leisurely the stadium grounds.
The commotion got Caloy to leave the wheel and walk to the edge of the upper stage. When he realized what had happened, he rushed back to shut off the purging process. He had his hands on the wheel when a Migrant forcefully shoved him and got the wheel to turn the other direction. He was knocked unconscious after falling down the upper stage.
Miyas was far from his console. On seeing Caloy fall from the upper stage, headed for the wheel as it was nearer than his console, but Migrants held him back as they swarmed the stage. He ran towards his console to shut off the purging but was shoved and force down from the stage to where the rest of the Rians were.
/> On the stadium grounds, people panicked and the pandemonium broke. A fierce battle ensued between the Migrants on the left side of the stage. They were now protecting their captive Rians from being saved by King Arth’s soldiers.
Indit, among a number of Rians, were at the right side of the stage. She immediately reacted on hearing Changlai’s shout loudly. She called out and waved at others Rians to follow her. They all ran towards their escape route but found the gate locked. Natoy stood motionless at the other side with his back towards them.
“Natoy, Natoy, open the gate. Natoy please,” Indit pleaded. Soon, there were over fifteen of them crowded and pleading at the gate.
Natoy did not move. Seconds later a group of Migrants came and started to herd the Rians back to the stage.
Indit managed to slip from the herded group and ran back to the gate. “Natoy, please open the gate,” she shouted as she ran towards the gate.
A Migrant running behind Indit pushed her to the ground. When Indit tried to again, he kicked her and she fell to the ground and groaned in pain.
Natoy heard the painful moan Indit made. He turned and saw a Migrant kick her once more. To this Natoy opened the gate and hit the Migrant with his fist; took the Migrant’s sword; and hacked him. He poised to protect Indit on the ground as five armed Migrants came back. He fought and, after killing two, was stabbed from behind and fell on the ground beside Indit.
Indit, in pain; face bruised; and nose bleeding, knelt beside Natoy and cradled his head with her arms. She asked, “Why, Natoy? Why?”
Natoy replied weakly, “The Migrants have my family. Forgive me.”
Pulled away, Indit shouted, “Naska is Imar, Natoy. We love you.”
In the ship, Amo Obib and Ningning viewed the outside activities through the main monitor. On seeing the commotion on and around the stage and the king’s soldiers battling their way towards the herded Rians near the stage, Ningning cried out, “Goopersh, do something.”
“Shutting all access to the ship.” To Goopersh, that was its only option.
“Can we levitate them from here?” she asked Amo Obib frantically.
“They have to be directly under the ship. If we get the ship to fly up abruptly, the vacuum created directly under will suck and dragged them high up then later fall to their death. We are stuck here. We will negotiate once things settle. The Migrants will not harm them.”
Miyas and the other Rians were herded on the ground near the west side of the stage by the Migrants. He stood on a chair and saw the dial's needle edge toward the red area's limit. He went down from the chair and, in a desperate attempt, pleaded to their captors to turn the wheel back. In the confusion, no one paid attention. By this time, the king's soldiers have broken through the heavy fighting at the stage and were inching their way toward the captive Rians.
Miyas stood again on a chair and saw the dial's needle beyond the edge of the red area. He shouted to his fellow Rians, “We have to call Amo Obib's attention to leave. The atom converter will soon implode.”
To Miya’s prodding, the Rians waved their hands in the air and shouted at the top of their voice, “Leave, it will implode! Leave, it will implode!” Then the ten-seconds warning siren sounded.
Amo Obib and Ningning helplessly watched the commotion on the screen. When they noticed the herded Rians waving and shouting, Amo Obib had the sound intensifier focused on their voices and heard their warning as the ten-seconds siren warning came on. Instinctively he ordered, “Goopersh, disconnect fuel line and fly six miles up now!”
The ship hummed for a second as the purge line disengaged from the ship then it flew abruptly straight up. The vacuum created beneath the ship sucked everything around the ship. It lifted the Rians, the people nearby and the whole stage in the air to fall back to earth at random as the spaceship rapidly ascended six miles above then abruptly stopped and hovered there.
A split second later, a large bolt of lightning arched from the ground on one side of the Atomic Converter ring to the other twenty-four miles away. Thousands of blinding arches of light shot outward in every direction from the Atomic Converter’s rim creating successions of thunderous sounds. As the lightning struck structures, it instantly split into thousands of jagged bright yellow lines and wreaked havoc to its atomic structure then imploded in a blinding flash.
Simultaneous to Metropolitan Atlantis' obliteration, railroad tracks, electrical and phone lines became conduits of destruction and death as the dreadful scene replicated itself spreading outward from the metropolis towards the Autonomous Region, King Silrab’s domain, and far beyond. Innocent looking metal objects as wood nails, jewelry, coins, and the likes within five miles from the lines became targets as lightning arched to it and leapfrogged to similar things within five miles from them. Animals and trees beyond five miles and up to the horizon vaporized on the open fields from the intense heat it generated. Farther on, the forest became instant inferno.
Within a minute, the devastations to the metropolis, the neighboring areas---the cities, towns, villages, and hamlets were total and complete. Only whirlpools of white powdery dust wafted by the wind remained in its place.
As the devastation raged below, Amo Obib and Ningning huddled together. Neither had the courage to view the destructive force unleashed below as the Rians, the people, the buildings, the most advanced civilization on the planet turned to white dust. The two consoled themselves out of their shock, grief, and sorrow through prayers.
A couple of minutes later, they looked at the screen. The sprawling Metropolitan Atlantis and the surrounding cities gone---erased from the surface and so were the lives of the many innocent whose only fault was being there. Everything vanished leaving no trace of their existence but a shallow grayish-white crater with eerie white tentacles that spread hundreds of miles outward from the metropolis that in time too would disappear. Only the nearby Lion Monument and the three stone pyramids that dominated the plain remained. They stand as testaments for future generations, who would never know nor find out, the great tragedy that had befallen the place. Of the civilization lost. Of the death to many innocent people brought by the greed of a few who hungered for wealth and power.
What an irony, the science and technology that could have brought wonders to their planet, gone. As for the people who wanted power, control, and grandiose megalomaniac dreams, what have they achieved? Nothing and, strangely, everything. Devastated, Amo Obib ordered Goopersh to head for the pyramid spaceship's safe haven to the far northeast.
As the ship flew towards its new location, the scenes of devastation below became horribly apparent. The destructive force obliterated all organic material and, as consequent, converted the area between the fringes of the Sahara Desert, three-hundred miles away and Atlantis to an instant wasteland that now form part of the present-day Sahara Desert.
Farther on were deserted villages and hamlets. People had traveled the distance to witness the festivities never to return. So were people who lived and participated in the Rian project at the Americas as they transported most, if not all, to Atlantis to participate in the most spectacular event of their lives, their last. The most advanced civilization on Earth and almost all of the people who knew of its existence and its traces were gone!
When the spaceship was over the Atlantic Ocean and at its deepest part, Amo Obib ordered, “Goopersh, eject contents in the cargo hold.” To that command, Goopersh expelled all the buildings within the ship leaving the area back to what it was when they landed over two million years ago---a humongous empty space.
Goopersh flew the ship to a predetermined location between Siberia and Alaska in an area now called Bering Strait and in a shoal where hundreds of small basalt islands dotted the surface of the sea. The site was ideal for hiding the spaceship. The shoals were shallow; the sea current, treacherous; the weather that changed from calm to gale force winds within an hour; and the islands barren. With many sharp outcropped basalt rocks that littered its surface and
most jutted out of the waves only at low tides, none would dared navigate its waters nor bothered to explore the desolate and foreboding basalt rock islands. There, the spaceship went underwater to surface a twentieth of its height inside the hollow cavern of a basalt island in the midst of the shoal. The island, no bigger than two football fields, towered fifty feet above the sea. After Goopersh maneuvered the ship within the island's cavern, it announced, “The ship is secured.”
Amo Obib asked, “Goopersh, how much fuel do we have left?”
“Three years at conservative fuel usage.”
“And the batteries on the hibernating capsule?”
“10,194 years”
“How many airships left?”
“One.”
“Goopersh, activate the distress signal and wake us ten-thousand years from now.”
“The distress signal is activated. I will wake you ten-thousand years from now,” Goopersh acknowledged.
“Ningning,” Amo Obib said sadly, “we have no other recourse but to wait for civilization in this planet to develop the technology themselves and help us directly. I pray they will have it when we wake. Come, let us go to the hibernating room,” then led her with his arm over her shoulder.
Ningning, said between sobs, “In my heart, My Amo, I feel God did not abandon us.”
Amo Obib replied, “He never did. He never will.”
EPISODE THREE
Last Chance
Ten thousand years passed, the year was 1853 A.D. Young in technology, steam driven trains traversed railroad tracks crisscrossing vast lands connecting cities and countries. Steam and sail ships set course and voyaged the open oceans and seas. Heavy smoke belched out of many huge foundry chimneys all day and night to feed the unsuitable demand for processed metal. It was the Age of Industrial Revolution at its early stage.
Waken from hibernation, Amo Obib left his capsule and immediately looked at Ningning within her opened capsule. She was motionless; eyes closed; cheeks still wet with tears though ten thousand years have passed. The memory of Atlantis’ utter devastation was fresh in their minds as though the gap in time in between sleep and wake never happened. It seemed they never slept at all. It was not a pleasant memory, sad to recall, heart drenching to remember. He saw a tear swelled from the slits of her closed eyes then dripped out of them. He knew how she felt. He felt it himself---the deep sense of sadness; of feeling abandoned; alone and helpless. “Are you all right, Ningning?” he asked with concern.
Ningning heard Amo Obib’s concerned voice. In a sigh, she took a deep breath then opened her eyes, “I am,” beaming as best she could. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands then held her husband’s extended hands as she left her capsule. She felt his warm hands---it was of small comfort for her sadness and sorrow but glad it was there for her. She said to herself, ‘It is best I control my emotions for his sake and mine. The tragedy had happened and nothing could be done to change it. Be positive.’ She then took another deep breath then asked, “What should we do now?”
Amo Obib noticed the renewed vigor from her voice and manner. He was pleased. He acted as though nothing heartrending had happened. “We have to access the state of their technology and plan from there.” He led her to their arched chair at the middle of the command room and sat alongside each other. Arms touching were a simple relief and reassuring in some ways. He noticed the three unmanned flight engineer consoles fronting them. There was no sense to have them there, just an abstraction, and worse still, a reminder. He ordered, “Goopersh, removed all three consoles.”
“Removing the three flight consoles,” Goopersh responded and the consoles, made of magic liquid, melted to the floor and disappeared, but the armed wooden chairs remained at its place.
Ningning eyes stared at the three empty chairs. It was symbolic of her lost friends. Friends she saw and worked with every day for almost three decades. Their faces flash through her thoughts---faces that smiled, laughed, faces that struggled like her. She tried hard to stop herself from crying but, still, a tear swelled from her eyes.
Amo Obib saw the tears on her eyelids. “Pour it out Ningning,” he said nicely. “It will do you a lot of good . . . and take your time.”
Ningning’s calm posture melted. She whimpered as she watched him take the wooden chairs and bring them to the hallway outside. When he came back, she sobbed on his shoulder until the last tear fell. She stayed motionless for a moment then sat erect and said, “I’m fine now,” in a controlled voice. With back of her hands, she wiped her cheeks daintily then used the sleeves of her outfit to dry them.
Amo Obib wasted no time to change the melancholy atmosphere. He ordered, “Goopersh, launch a satellite and project the planet from space.”
A golf-sized orb shot out of the ship into outer space directly above and a few seconds later Goopersh reported. “Satellite launched, projecting planet image on screen.”
Planet Earth was on the screen. Most of its surfaces were on the dark side and a fraction of its edge glowed. The bright crescent band obscured their view to which Amo Obib instructed, “Move satellite to view the planet’s dark side in its entirety.”
The screen blurred for a second as the satellite moved abruptly to another location then projected the whole dark side of Earth on the screen. Earth’s circular fringe glowed with the sun directly behind it and was visible against the black background of outer space. Amo Obib’s hopeful anticipation turned to disappointment. He fervently hoped seeing patches of well lighted areas on its surface---visible lights to mark major cities and towns; lighted shorelines to discern its shores; lights to indicate advance civilization. He saw no lights anywhere to illuminate his spirit. He felt disheartened but not reflected it outwardly. But Ningning saw something Amo Obib missed as she strained to see what was on the screen and said, “There is a faint light, brightest at fourth quadrant.”
Amo Obib, eager to prove himself wrong, reacted immediately, “Goopersh, zoom on the brightest of the lights, fourth quadrant,” he instructed.
With eyes focused intently in anxiety, both viewed the planet’s fourth quadrant magnified progressively to a particular spot. The faint lighted area brightened then became a cluster of lights; then crisscrossing lines of lined lights. Goopersh stopped zooming over London’s downtown district. Lighted gas street lamps were spaced evenly on its streets; horse drawn carriages with felt lamps flight its roads; and people walked about with lanterns. The sight was no consolation to Amo Obib. He knew Ria took over three-hundred years from gas lamps to become technologically advance---they only had a little over a hundred years before the ship runs out of fuel and self-destruct. He held back his pessimism but realized Ningning was just as analytical as him when he heard her asked, “Goopersh, how long did Ria progressed from street gas lamps to nuclear generated lighting system?”
Goopersh answered, “Over three-hundred-fifty years.”
Ningning glanced at Amo Obib. She saw a gloom had set in on him. Sounding optimistic said, “The people in this planet are a lot smarter than us. They will achieve that in much less time,” she said positively, smiling at her husband.
Ningning’s statement sparked Amo Obib back to life. There was some truth to what she said. Earthlings were very creative creatures. He beamed at her. He need no longer worry on her state of mind. She was back to her normal self and inwardly thank God. He said, “It’s too early to do research on their state of technology and draw a conclusion at this point in time. Let us hibernate again and wake fifty years from now.”
The Year, 1903
After fifty years, Amo Obib and Ningning, eager and excited, walked out of their hibernation capsule towards the arched chair. Amo Obib said, “Goopersh, project satellite image of the planet on its dark side.”
From a blank screen, planet Earth’s dark side was projected. To their relief, major cities were clearly illuminated. The east coast of the United States was clearly outlined. Amo Obib said to Ningning, “We have to sneak in their libraries to e
valuate the state of their technology.”
Ningning surprisingly asked, “You mean go in and not ask permission?”
Amo Obib smiled at her. “Not until we know who we will be dealing with. Then, we decide if we are to make our existence known.” He addressed Goopersh, “Goopersh, our intention is to go in major book repository buildings to research on this planet’s state of technology without their knowing. Send out rovers to identify five major libraries and provide us layout plans of the floor where the books are located. Observe as well their nighttime security.”
“Will concentrate on public and university libraries,” Goopersh affirmed.
“Good.”
“Sending rovers,” Goopersh replied. Simultaneously, five beetle size rovers, oval in shape, flew out of the ship in five different directions. Nano technology allowed each to have ten mosquito-size, highly sophisticated surveillance craft. The minute crafts entered closed book repository buildings through keyholes, crack on walls, vents, and, when necessary, bored a small hole on its wall and scanned its rooms. An hour later Goopersh announced, “I am ready to project images and layouts.”
The first on its list was the Library of Congress in United Stated followed by the Library of Technology in Paris, France then Cambridge Library in England, and two major libraries in Germany.
Amo Obib and Ningning spent time to study the library layouts and planned their move. They had themselves tele-transported to these libraries in the evenings and read on human’s state of technology with miniscule surveillance crafts flying about to warn them of intruders. After a week and on the eve of going to hibernation, Amo Obib decided to prepare Ningning for things he thought may come. The opportunity came when they were having a snack at the kitchen. Amo Obib said, in melancholy, “I don't think humans will have the technology to help us by the time we run out of fuel. The fundamentals to atomic physics are still a mystery. It may take some time before they will understand the inner compositions and workings of an atom. I just want you to know,” reconciled to their fate.
Ningning asked nonchalantly, “Do you think you can plant a seed we know and not know what its fruit will be?”
The philosophical question surprised Amo Obib. It was so far from the subject he opened and was not like her to miss a point. “Like an apple seed?” he asked, perplexed.
“Yes. Except we pray it will bear something else, like watermelon,” she responded casually.
Amo Obib gave her statement a thought. It contradicted itself. Why should he pray for an apple seed to bear something else? Watermelons? He glanced at her---she was not looking at him. He had seen the stance before and prepared himself for a lively discussion. “What do you have in mind this time, Ningning?”
Ningning faced him and said in a serious but enthusiastic manner, “You said we are forbidden to interfere with human thoughts. Humans must search and find the answer themselves.” She paused then asked, “Can we not act as a catalyst again as we did to the ape’s eons ago?”
Amo Obib grinned as he eyed her suspiciously. He understood where she was leading him to and set the stage to an unavoidable discussion. “We must never tell humans what to think or do. Humans must think freely and decide their own destiny.”
“If a man is searching for an answer and found the solution but for some reasons set it aside, would it be wrong to redirect his attention hoping he would reconsider and act on it?”
“As long as you do not tell him.”
Ningning pulled her chair closer and excitedly said, “If it is possible to get him to reconsider something vitally important indirectly, that is, without telling him, and does, then he was not coerced; he exercised free will; and, most of all, he had a choice. We have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”
Amo Obib was stumped by her logic, “And how do you propose to redirect his attention without telling him?” he ask whimsically.
“He found something he shelved a long time ago on his desk and would wonder how it got there!” Ningning snapped.
The quick-responding Amo Obib had no reply.
In his silence, she knew she had driven her point. “You like fruit juice?” she casually asked with an air of confidence.
“No, thank you,” Amo Obib replied. Inwardly, he searched for flaws in her logic and arguments. A moment later said grinning, “Ah, but the problem is, you must find the man that fits that example. Unable to read minds, how do you propose to do that?” smiling with confidence. He was certain he had cornered her now.
“If I find you the man, will you consider my plan?” she asked right after with poise.
Amo Obib eyed her with anxiety. She was unfazed by his obstacle. He must think of his answer carefully as he knew she was up to entrap him in tempting fate. “Only if he fits exactly the criteria,” he answered with trepidation.
“I have a copy of the man's research papers. His name is Albert Einstein, a brilliant theoretical physicist way ahead of his time . . . a genius,” she said as she took the copy of a research paper she hid behind the counter. “Here, take a look,” handing him a thin stack of stapled papers.
On her confident reply, Amo Obib knew he had stepped into her trap. She is shrewder than he thought. Disquietingly, he took the copy and leafed through pages of assumptions and equations. He focused briefly on one then said, “Based on the man's equations, he . . .,” he turned then realized he was alone in the kitchen.
Amo Obib studied Einstein's research paper. After half an hour, he concluded that Ningning was right. Einstein was indeed trying to prove that time was relative, the fourth dimension. The hypothesis seemed ridiculous---time is not absolute but relative to speed! The faster you go the slower the time. Einstein must ride against conventional views; stay and pursue his approach in resolving scientific problems through sound and valid mathematical assumptions and equations. He had the answer that would pave the way in understanding the mechanics of an atom. If he could get the scientific community to accept his unorthodox method and its conclusions, then they may have a chance. A little nudge may indeed help.
He stood and to his surprise found Ningning was sitting behind him drinking fruit juice at the adjacent table and a filled glass of juice waited for him. He moved to the table and sat without saying anything. He sipped his juice pretending as if nothing significant had happened.
“When will we go?” Ningning snapped.
The laconic question choked him as he drank and got some of the juice to spill on his pants. He looked at her as he wiped his mouth and brushed off what was spilled on his pants. “How did you find him first?”
“By accident! I was going over the notes of an Atomic Physicist Professor at the University of Zurich when I came across a research paper on a shelf that had gathered dust. It turned out to be a synopsis of a hypothesis given to the professor for comment but, apparently, the professor set it aside. The rest, detective work.”
Eight hours later, at three in the morning, Ningning and Amo Obib tele-transported themselves to Einstein’s bedroom while Einstein was asleep and placed a copy of his research paper on his bedside table then left. When they got back to the ship, they entered their respective hibernating capsule and slept.
THEORY OF RELATIVITY
Fifteen Years Later.
In November of 1918, Ningning woke alone from hibernation and left the ship. She headed straight to and sneaked in the Berlin National Library in the middle of the night. She leafed through scientific journals. After an hour, she found the journal she prayed to find. She made a copy of the book it referred to and the journal as well. She went back to the ship and pasted the folded journal with the article facing Amo Obib on his capsule's transparent door; placed the book on the floor; then manually set the hibernating capsule to wake mode and left.
A minute later, Amo Obib’s eyes opened with a hazy view of the pasted page on the transparent door in front of him. As it became clear, the boldly written formula on the page caught his attention:
E = mc2
; It dawned on him that it was the Energy Formula expressed in Earthling form. He read, within the pasted page, the book’s title: ‘The Theory of Relativity’. Unable to control his emotion, he shouted with great relief within the capsule, “Einstein did it!” The critical concept towards understanding quantum physics using valid assumptions without physical proof was now a concept accepted by the scientific community. However, his demeanor changed just as instantly when he noticed the time. Ningning had awakened him seventy-five years ahead of schedule and was upset. He, however, did not command her to stay in hibernation for the duration but assumed she would. He picked the book on the floor after he left the capsule and slowly walked as he skimmed its pages. He stopped, every now and then, that by the time he got to the kitchen, the bowl of hot soup was on the table and Ningning seated motionless on one side. Her poise and facial expression was that of submission---ready to accept the harshest punishment for her crime. Amo Obib, who a moment earlier, was determined to reprimand, nearly laughed but held back and said seriously, “But never again.”
Ningning, on hearing, stood and like an excited kid that escaped harsh punishment, went to him with a wide grin. She gave him a big kiss on the cheek then led him to his seat at the table. She then said, “I told you it will work. The man is a genius. But my husband, since we are awake . . .”
“Plant more seeds,” Amo Obib snapped.
“Exactly!” she hailed.
“Ningning,” he said in a deliberate tone of voice, “we have planted a good seed. Let it grow at its own pace with God’s blessing. There is enough in Einstein’s publications to excite the minds in the scientific community to work in understanding the atom’s mechanics. Let us leave things in God’s hands.”
They hibernated.
THE HYBRIDS
The Year, 1995.
Awaken from the hibernation, Amo Obib and Ningning sneaked in major libraries, research institutions, and military top-secret archives to read on human progress. It was Ningning's responsibility to research on human history while Amo Obib on current technology. On her mission, Ningning came across the article on the atomic bomb dropped at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. She was nauseated with grief and guilt after she read it. She felt the pain Amo Obib would go through, if he knew but had to. She handed him a copy of the article when they got back to the ship.
Amo Obib, after reading, stayed silent, his eyes moistened. He said to himself, 'With all the good that could come from understanding the power of the atom to the people of this world, the first thing they did was build an atomic bomb. My God, what have I done in my ignorance?' He hid his anguish and inner pain for Ningning's sake. But Ningning read through Amo Obib's pretenses. Neither spoke on the subject. They pretended it never happened and carried their guilt in silence as they continued their research.
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