by Yasmin Esack
“I’m not going there. Everything’s cool.”
“Are you certain you’re okay?” Myrtle’s weight loss hadn’t slipped him.
“Yes, of course,” she lied staring at his deep set eyes and masses of curly unkempt hair. She thought of how right he was for her. When she was with him, she felt the rage in her soul lift. She felt lighter, her burdens and demons gone. No one would understand, she knew. “Julius, you’re super,” she said with more than usual sincerity.
“Let’s take a walk,” Olsen suggested.
“Where’re we going?”
“Just follow me, will you?”
At a street corner, Olsen peered into the window of Steigers and Baums, Purveyors of the Finest Jewellery.
“Let’s go in.” he said. “Choose a ring you like.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The array of exquisite items and the rich scent of the room filled Myrtle’s senses with joy.
“There,” she pointed minutes later, “that one.”
“Try it on, then.”
The blue sapphire in diamonds on white gold looked perfect on her hand. Amid the sounds of cash registers and security clicks, Myrtle Foster could feel and taste the fairy tale future of her life. It was all she ever wanted.
Twenty minutes later, they walked to the car park arm in arm in a world that was theirs alone, forgetting life’s trials and tribulations.
”Let’s go to my place,” Olsen said.
Chapter 67
He started his car and drove along Colorado Avenue. He soon passed the hundred-year-old Santa Monica Pier headed to Route 1. Moving through Laguna Hills, he arrived at his Lake Forest condo an hour later. Olsen considered the Californian lifestyle an idyllic one. The Pacific breezes and sun made it a healthy choice. Arm in arm, they walked past the coral trees that lined the pathway to his back door. A black cat that had found a home on his patio scuttled away as they approached. It was 3.30PM and the afternoon sun blazed on them.
“It’s cool inside,” he said opening the heavy oak door. “Come on in.”
Myrtle sat on a sofa gazing at Olsen’s décor. His books were laid on wooden shelves. A map decorated one wall and another held the Quipu.
“I love this place. It’s so you but, what’s that?” she asked, astonished by the Quipu, its worn strings of llama wool hanging from the wall.
“It’s an Inca artefact.”
“It sure is strange.”
“Let’s go up to my room.”
The master bedroom with its king-size bed was quite beckoning. Myrtle switched the TV on and took her shoes off. She fluffed the pillows and made herself comfortable as Olsen peeled his shirt off and lay next to her. He pulled her close to his arms.
“I love you, Myrtle, “he said, caressing the strands of her hair. “How many months is it now?”
“Five.”
“Already? It doesn’t show.”
“He’s small I guess. So, what kind of wedding are we going to have?”
Olsen hadn’t a clue. “Anything you want.”
“Hmm, I have to think about it. But, I’m not fussy. All I want to be is Mrs. Julius Olsen.”
He sighed. She didn’t know anything of his previous marriage that ended after just three months and he thought it better to say nothing. He had married a journalist in Copenhagen called Steffi Larsen who was different. She was headstrong and independent, qualities that attracted him. He didn’t think she would want attention and a comforting arm as Myrtle did. He totally misread her.
Olsen had met her at the Copenhagen Summit of the Environment and had been swept away. Steffi was created by the heavenly gods he had sworn. It was in her stature, her smile and dark eyes that had stared through him. That was many ago and he blamed himself for the break up. Since then, he had put a cap on his intense nature. Now a different man, he was looking forward to being a father and a having a quiet life.
Chapter 68
He got up and went downstairs, wishing he didn’t feel that anxious, and, as he sat trying to be calm, a premonition of death hung. The feeling of being spied on was something he hoped never to relive. Strands of his curls fell across his face as he wondered what was happening. He didn’t imagine it. Someone was following him. Could something as Andean Christianity land him in trouble? He began to worry about the Quipus Bentley had found, Quipus that supported Blas Valera’s claim that Inca beliefs had some similarity to Christianity and that Athualpa was a man of vision before the Spanish came. Valera, who was born after the conquest, had obtained the information from the Amautas and had recorded it. Valera’s father was Louis Valera, a man who had accompanied the conqueror, Pizarro.
A noise at the back door drew him. He looked through the window. The sight of the black cat dispelled his deep-seated fear. It was the same fear he felt when he had left the English Manor, turning in time to see the well-built Caucasian staring at him. Olsen had stared back at him until he finally disappeared among the many cars in the car park. The real devastation had come when he had turned to a note on his car window. Stop your Quipu work or you wouldn’t live to see it finished, it read.
Olsen had dialled the nearest police station.
“What can I do for you?” a polite voice had answered.
As he was about to speak, he remembered he had been black listed as an environmental agitator. He had hung up.
Now, he dialled Bentley’s number. “Come on, answer,” he said as Bentley’s phone kept ringing.
With the call unanswered, Olsen headed upstairs. He zipped his bags and checked his documents for his trip to La Joya Island. He pushed the bags aside and sat on his bed. The tyranny he had experienced from the Copenhagen police for his disturbance of the Summit of the Environment Conference forced him to distrust life. He never took anything lightly and, since then, the feeling of being followed had never washed off. He thought of how hard he had worked on the movement of planets and how much the fraternity at home hated him and that all he stood for, especially his determination to capture the Inca date for a new age. It was because of them he had fled to America. Olsen had to escape the disappointment that stabbed him everywhere he turned. Now, as he lay still, the lonesome chill of the night he had spent in jail came back to haunt him.
“Why is this world so cruel?” he pleaded to the air in the room.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, then at Myrtle who was still fast asleep. He looked at her wondering if he was doing right by her. Myrtle was the most innocent person he had ever met.
Feeling blue, he grabbed his keys, deciding to go out. As he opened the door of his car, he caught sight of a shadow slipping past him. Olsen made a dash to see who it was. It wasn’t long before he gave up chase. As sweat poured from his face, he knew his stalker was back. He started his car and drove off thinking of who he could be. He didn’t get beyond Sunset Boulevard when his cell phone rang.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Julius, you called me?”
“Yeah. I’m being followed, Dr. Bentley,” he said on the line.
Chapter 69
In Paris, archaeologist Arthur Bentley placed his phone away. He walked along Rue Mollis reconciling Olsen’s call. He was half expecting it since his laboratory in Colombia came under scrutiny from US forces. Still, hearing Olsen’s frantic voice was hard on him. Finding the date for the new age somehow seemed remote. He never imagined he would have to be bothered about Valera’s claims of Andean Christianity, claims he had published in The Journal of Archaeology and which had been previously mentioned in a document, The Naples Document. Now, the Brotherhood was after Olsen. He worried a lot about Hart too. It was important that people knew there was a network between them and worlds beyond. His eyes scaled the ambiance of the European city as he wondered if they would both survive. It had been a long journey for them and he wanted nothing more than a bright end. As rain drenched his jacket, he turned his thoughts to his own matters. He had long known the Age of Aquar
ius would come. The age would bring forth esoteric traditions and expose the teachings that were intended for Mankind. People would understand who they were and their purpose. The age would bring an end to disasters. He wanted both Hart and Olsen to attend the conference but it wasn’t to be. Now, he was left alone to convince a doubtful crowd of the age. It was not going to be an easy task. He had found a lot of speculation of a new age. In his research, he encountered five hundred claims of it. Many were made by pseudo-astrologists and some by holy men. What led him to believe the Inca were right was what that the Q’ero people had said, that the eagle of the north will one day fly with the condor of the south. It was a sign of peace, an Inca prophecy written in the stars.
The Inca were masters at mapping stars. They were so accurate he was certain of extra-terrestrial influence. Machu Picchu was an observatory with the pyramid, Intihuatana, positioned to measure the movement of the sun. It was from Machu Picchu that the Inca high priests observed planets. Their astronomical logs were advanced, more than those of sixteen century Europeans, a great feat for a people with obscure counting skills.
Remembering Olsen’s words on the phone, his feet dragged along the pavement like a wounded soldier, lost and broken. Still, he was yards from the Paris State of the Earth Conference and he had to turn his attention to what he would say about the new age.
Chapter 70
In the historic La Maison building, the conference was heating up when he arrived two minutes later. The French president was addressing the assembly.
“We can stop wars,” President Jollet said. “But, ladies and gentlemen, we cannot stop Mother Nature. Where will answers come from if not from this esteemed gathering? It is you who will change this world.”
The assembly of world leaders, scientific advisors and numerous organizations ignited with fervour. Jollet’s inspiring words heralded a spate of clapping. Many were now off their seats. The president’s voice soon boomed again through the large room as he said, “The leaders of the world need your help but, more than that, we want answers. We cannot fight the war of natural forces acting against us alone. Together we will work to make this planet a safe and beautiful home. Thank you ladies and gentleman. I declare the State of the Earth Conference open.”
Jollet shook hands with delegates who hugged him. The mood at the conference was upbeat. Cameras were clicking, microphones squealed and people hurried about with their agendas. The scent of French pastry and roasted coffee charged through the morning air.
As the president took his seat among other world leaders, the first presenter, bedecked in the flaming red and yellow colours of her native China, began walking centre stage.
“My topic,” she said lowering the microphone “is about China’s role in global warming. I’m here to tell you how much we’ve achieved.”
The young woman spoke of pollution reduction and limitations in the use of coal. Five minutes later, she ended her presentation to a round of applause.
“Thank you. Thank you again,” she said pleased with her speech and delighted with the response from the crowd.
As she turned to leave, the assembly coordinator’s ear caught a sound. It came from someone banging a table.
“Your presentation is the usual nonsense!” he heard. The outburst came from a man at the centre of the room.
The assembly coordinator headed to the microphone. “Order, order, please!” His plea did nothing to stop the man from getting to his feet.
“Your work’s garble,” the man said, pointing this time to the Chinese delegate. “You haven’t told us anything. Just a heap of promises and promises.” The man banged his fist again. “We need answers now!”
“How dare you?” The woman cried. With glaring eyes, she flung her paperwork at him. Behind her, there was more commotion.
Three oceanographers shot to their feet.
“Our measurements of rising levels in the Arctic are accurate,” one said responding to a rude comment from a member of The Geological Society of America.
“They’re not!” the group of four men rose. “You’re talking about Isostatic Rebound. Melting glaciers aren’t the cause of earthquakes. It’s a problem with the alignment of our planets, something we can’t fix.”
“You’re nuts!”
The conference was fast becoming a spectacle as more joined in. Scientists raised their hands at each other.
In a grand finale, recommendations and dossiers flew everywhere. Soon, they grabbed their bags and walked out.
The assembly coordinator panicked. “Hey, come back. Come back! How the hell will we advise world leaders?”
In the middle of it all, Frederic Strauss, the Austrian representative, was reasoning with a stubborn American in reference to a paper on carbon emissions.
“Your data is invalid. We can’t remove the limit on fossil fuels based on what you’ve written. In fact, we can’t make decisions about anything!” Strauss slammed his papers down.
The mood at the Paris State of the Earth Conference was sour when Peter Langley came forward. He was Olsen’s friend and the man rechecking his Quipu data. He didn’t want to say anything about the date preferring to leave that for Bentley. He had strained his neck looking for him but hadn’t seen him.
“We’re in deep trouble,” he said, “And, we won’t solve anything like this.” Langley started towards the exit.
“Wait, Peter!” Strauss called.
Langley turned and looked at the man. “Tell me.”
“The truth, the truth is…” Strauss glanced at the faces of the delegates milling around. The live-wire of innovative technology looked pale. His drawn features cast a shadow against the gothic pillars of La Maison.
“Say what you have to, Frederic,” Langley urged.
“We’re shutting oil refineries, shifting to solar power and bio-fuel production and God knows what else. Still, sea level rise continues, earthquakes the order of the day. What can I say? Be philosophical about it all? The truth is there’s nothing we can do, nothing at all to stop the Falklands from going under or the continents from drifting apart for that matter.
Chapter 71
Bentley moved to Langley as Frederic Strauss finished speaking. His frame seemed large against the backdrop of the swivel chair he sat in. He didn’t get up. Instead, he held his hands out and spoke.
“Gentlemen, my archaeological discoveries are spot on. The time has come to welcome a new dawn.”
“Dr. Bentley?” Langley enquired.
“Yes, and I’m sure most of you won’t know me. I doubt if I’ve ever been mentioned in your illuminating works, but, nonetheless, I’m Arthur Bentley.”
“The archaeologist,” Strauss acknowledged.
Before Strauss could say another word, Bentley pushed some chairs aside and strutted up the podium. He placed a flash drive into a computer.
“What you’re about to see is real,” he said to the anxious crowd. “It is a precession of equinoxes.”
Langley stared hard at what came up. Olsen had spoken to him about it but seeing it was amazing.
“This is about the earth’s axis and its alignment to the sun over long periods of time, isn’t it?” he remarked.
“Yes. This precession has been culminating for some time causing tremendous natural disasters. I’m sure you are aware of that.”
“What ar’you suggesting, Dr. Bentley?” Strauss rubbed his forehead. He was becoming antsy.
“I’m suggesting things will change.”
“This is hogwash! Look, you don’t by any stretch of imagination expect us...”
“Shut up, Strauss.” Langley shouted. “How long do precessions take, Dr. Bentley?”
“Twenty six thousand years for a complete cycle as determined by the most advanced technology available today, the SIRTF, the Space Infrared Telescope Facility. The cycle itself is divided into ages.”
“So, how long does an age last?”
“Two thousand one hundred and sixty years to be exact.”
/> “That gives us twelve ages.”
“We’re at the end of the Age of Pisces.”
“Pisces? Good God!” Strauss’s reluctance to accept it all was mirrored in his voice. He shifted as he felt someone’s breath on his neck. The room was filling up with people and more were pouring in.
“Please allow me to continue.” Bentley’s forefinger trembled as he passed it along a keyboard. “I ask you now to take a close look at the positions of our two largest planets, Jupiter and Saturn.”
Langley felt a rush of blood in his heart. Could this be? But, here it was in front of him, the long prophesied Jupiter-Saturn union, an event that could herald a new age.
He jumped as Bentley’s voice rose.
“This is the long awaited Lord of the Dawn, the Age of Aquarius,” the archaeologist declared.
Hands shot up. The crowd pushed forward. “When will it be!” they cried out.
Bentley switched the screen off. “Calculations, so far, indicate it is between 2020 and 2050AD.”
Langley thought nothing of the frenzy in the room and the pain of his trampled feet. He stared at the larger than life archaeologist as he thought of Newton’s 2060 prophecy. Could it be, he wondered? He bit down on his lips.
“Is there any way to be more precise?” he asked.
“Dr. Julius Olsen and I have been working on Inca data for some time, hoping to hone in on a date.”
“Any reason why we should believe them?”
“They were masters of the cosmos. They had the ability to foresee the future. Their ancestors kept them informed. But, proof will come in changing weather patterns and seismic data. That’s all I have to say at this point. Good day, my people.”
As Bentley headed to the exit, a reporter accosted him.
“Dr. Bentley, how serious can we take this new age, this Lord of the Dawn? Give me a solid reason to believe you.”