Michael Wexler stared back at him and shook his head in disappointment. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t make it this far,’ he began, keeping his arms crossed as Harker let the door slide from his fingers and close behind him.
‘Michael!’ he exclaimed, completely stunned. ‘What is this?’
Wexler gave a smile and took a step forwards. ‘This is something that no one is ever supposed to see.’
The answer was baffling and Harker shook his head in confusion. ‘Not supposed to see… what? A concrete basement underneath an island forest with an uncontacted tribe living above it?’
Wexler let out an amused laugh. ‘You have a funny way of thinking, Alex. Has anyone ever told you that?’
‘Many times, Michael,’ Harker replied, his confusion now tipping into anger. ‘But that’s not what’s on my mind at the moment. What is on my mind is where my friends are and what the hell is going on here.’
‘Oh, your friends are fine. There’s no need to worry about them, and they’ll be joining us shortly.’
‘OK, that’s good to hear, but now how about you tell me what exactly we’re doing down here?’
There was real strain evident in Harker’s voice and Wexler looked concerned. ‘You’re here because you believe that shortly a cataclysm is about to take place that could wipe out humanity, and would doom those few who survive to begin rebuilding civilisation once again. You also believe that this disaster has happened many times before, in an endless cycle of galactic death and then rebirth.’
‘The ninth planet,’ Harker replied, and Wexler nodded his head slowly.
‘You’ve also been led to believe that the advanced civilisation before us was alien in origin, and that their technology was stored away in the Ark of Knowledge, just waiting to be found so that it could be used to stop this terrible tragedy from happening.’
‘No, that’s what you think,’ Harker said defensively. ‘That’s what you told me. I’ve never believed it.’
‘So why then are you here?’
Harker was not a man of violence and he had always prided himself on that fact. He could defend himself with violence if needed – he wasn’t a pacifist – but as he stared now at Wexler’s smug, knowing face, he was incredibly tempted to deliver a blow that would knock the man out.
‘I had no idea if any of it was actually true, but if the world is truly ending, then at the very worst it would be a wasted trip.’
‘OK, I believe you,’ Wexler said, ‘but would you like to know what all this is really about?’
Harker bit his tongue but he nodded. ‘Yes, Michael, I really would, please.’
Wexler continued smiling, and he even offered a courteous bow. ‘Firstly you should know that everything I’ve told you about the ninth planet is true.’
Harker’s heart immediately sank but he stood firm as Wexler continued to explain.
‘But it won’t be entering our solar system for quite a long time.’
‘How long?’
‘Not for another two thousand years. And secondly, those alien gods, the Annunaki, they’re not aliens… they’re us.’
‘What?’ Now Harker felt really confused.
‘Have you heard of Homo floresiensis?’ Wexler asked, and Harker offered a nod.
‘It’s a human subspecies of which they found miniature skeletons back in… 2004, if I remember correctly. They were only three feet tall and died out, what, about thirteen thousand years ago.’
‘That’s correct,’ Wexler agreed, seemingly impressed with Harker’s knowledge. ‘Along with all the other subspecies, they help make up the evolving history of modern humans. And if you follow the DNA strand back far enough, we even find a common ancestor: a primate from which, over millions of years, we all evolved.’
Harker now had some idea of where Wexler was going with all this. ‘Are you telling me these giants, or gods – the Annunaki – are a subspecies of modern human beings?’
‘Yes, Alex, but rather than just having the intelligence we possess or only the strength of a Neanderthal, they had both – as well as their size, which overshadowed any humans that ever lived. Their civilisation was advanced – you yourself saw their pyramid constructed with materials that we have only begun to replicate ourselves in recent times – and don’t forget this was over eleven thousand years ago. I’m not saying they were more advanced than we are, but nonetheless it was all very impressive, and their knowledge of the skies and of astronomy was second to none. When the catastrophe happened, sending their world back to basics and nearly wiping out the human race in the process, some of them survived and set about passing on what they had learnt to modern humans, who named them the Annunaki and treated them as gods. You have to remember that the generations who came after the Great Flood had no knowledge of this race of giants, and in view of their offerings of knowledge, what else could they have been but gods?
‘But when our own civilisations began to grow, and under their guidance we became the dominant force around the world, this lost tribe – these Annunaki, the bringers of civilisation – retreated from our world. And by this time there were very few left anyway, as modern humans took over more space and power. We don’t know exactly why their populations never grew again as ours did, but we do know why they retreated. Before the cataclysm that took place twelve thousand years ago, when they were the dominant civilisation, we do know they were very cruel and treated modern humans like cattle, as nothing more than a workforce.’
Harker thought back to that mural in the underwater pyramid and its depiction of the violence inflicted by the giant gods, and he could only imagine what it must have entailed. Modern humans must have seemed puny in comparison to them and thus easily taken advantage of.
‘Who knows?’ Wexler threw his hands up. ‘Perhaps they believed the cataclysm was a punishment for their cruelty from the gods they themselves believed in. The truth is we will never know, but what they did afterwards, and their determination to help rebuild civilisation along with us… well, that can be in no doubt.’
Harker was struggling to take what he was being told at face value. If it were true, then it changed everything the scholars believed about ancient human history. To even consider that we were not the first civilisation to exist, but also were here only because a bunch of giant intelligent apes made it so – it was archaeological heresy and it would be professional suicide to even consider such a thing without proof. And yet here was Wexler attempting to do just that. Harker kept silent and attentive as the doctor continued.
‘You know all those stories about Noah’s ark that were replicated around the world?’
Harker managed a nod as Wexler spoke enthusiastically, like a teacher taking great pleasure in enlightening his student by passing on the knowledge he himself had learnt.
‘As I told you back in Zermatt, truth gradually turns into legend, until one day it is seen as truth again. And if enough time passes, it falls back into legend – but a different legend entirely. Noah’s ark wasn’t a boat, Alex. It was just a symbol: a simple story to explain something that people were not ready to hear. The ark was a place where knowledge – not animals – was stored, to ensure civilisation could once more rise from the ashes when the right time came.’
Wexler then pressed his hand against a small panel in the concrete wall. There followed a rattling sound and Harker watched as several steel shutters began rolling upwards and disappeared inside the upper wall, to reveal a sight that he could never have imagined.
‘Welcome to the Ark, Alex. I mean the real Ark,’ Wexler said, as bright light flooded the room.
Harker walked forward to the large observation window that had been revealed, and gazed out onto a gigantic cavern stretching ahead for probably half a mile. There were tall three-storey buildings constructed of stone, marble and some materials that he had never seen before, which now shone in a multitude of colours. Between them lay wide cobblestone roads lined with glowing street lamps, and at the centre of it all a large pyrami
d towered, with a golden Eye of Horus at its highest point.
‘What is this place?’ Harker gasped.
Wexler clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. ‘This is where the next civilisation will come to start all over again when the moment arrives and the cosmos sees fit to reset the clock. There are no electrical devices or design schematics for cars, but instead all the knowledge that survivors of such an event will need in order to begin again.’
Harker was mesmerised by the sight, realising that from where he stood only a fraction could be seen. But as he turned away, looking over at the proudly smiling Wexler, his head was now brimming with questions. ‘Who are you, Michael?’
Wexler pulled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his forearm. It was now so familiar to Harker that he barely gave it a second glance, for it was the outline of a bag with straps, the same as those already seen on the coin and the tattoo of the creature they had found.
‘I am one of many, Alex. We are the Guardians of the Ark, and we have been watching over this place for a very long time.’
Even though this underground facility was truly incredible, and it demanded one’s whole attention, there were so many unanswered questions that Harker really didn’t know where to start.
‘I am so confused, Michael,’ he began, now just wanting to hear the truth after being fed so much crap over the past few days. ‘Don’t get me wrong, just seeing this place is mind-blowing, but how do the Mithras, myself and the strange being we found fit into all this? And why did you have me believe the end of the world was just around the corner? Have you got any idea how much worry you’ve caused us?’
Wexler looked apologetic and immediately set about explaining the bizarre set of events that had brought Harker to this island. ‘We Guardians make up over one thousand people, Alex, and we devote ourselves to the upkeep of this place, as did our ancestors and the generations before us. Our bloodlines date back to the ancient Sumerians. When the Annunaki realised their very existence meant them being looked upon as gods, they decided that if humankind was to evolve socially, culturally and intellectually, they themselves had to disappear. Either that or people would forever rely on their “gods” to take care of them. Like a parent who must let their beloved child leave home when the time is right, to learn to fend for itself. With this path decided, the Annunaki retreated to this place to prepare for a day when they would be needed again, and some of our own ancestors chose to join them. You have to remember, Alex, that with their astronomical knowledge, and having witnessed and recorded the ninth planet first-hand along with the damage it did with each cycle around the sun, the Annunaki knew it would return at regular intervals and cause the same devastation as before. So they evolved into a quasi-monastic society that would keep the Ark prepared for when it happened again – a task passed down from one generation to the next.
‘As the centuries passed, and human beings grew in power and number, eventually there was no further place for the Annunaki, and so we the Guardians acted as their conduits to the outside world. There were some Annunaki, from time to time, who could not stand this isolated existence and headed out again into the world. And their lives became the stuff of legend and religious teaching, such as in the story of David and Goliath, or the giant cyclops in the Odyssey, or the hundreds of other stories from every continent that tell of giant men –good or bad – who roamed the Earth long ago.’
Wexler was obviously enjoying his grand revelation of this secret history, and the more Harker heard, the more fascinated he became. He wanted to learn everything he could.
‘What you don’t know,’ Michael continued, ‘is that the Annunaki, with their two hearts and their giant size, had a far longer lifespan than modern humans – on average double our own – which is how tales of the Annunaki kings surviving for so long came about. Back then over four generations of humans could come and go, and still the same giant gods would be alive. And so the accounts of their age were greatly exaggerated, as we find in the Sumerian texts recording kings living hundreds of thousands of years, which of course is impossible. But can you imagine knowing that your great-great-grandfather lived under the same god king as you did? It would seem magical, supernatural, and it’s not surprising that such beliefs, however misguided, came to be recorded as fact.’
Wexler peered through the glass of the observation window and over towards the pyramid and all that lay around it, and he shook his head. ‘Our symbiotic relationship lasted thus for close to six thousand years until finally, just over a century ago, the last of the Annunaki passed away. Since then we have been watching over the Ark ourselves, passing the task from one generation the next, and when the technology became available – only in the past ten years, really – we decide to recreate them from whatever tissue we still possessed. The creature that you found, that strange-looking being, was the first of many cloned from his forefathers. That is, until he died.’
At this point Harker realised why, back in Zermatt, Wexler had seemed so upset on learning of its death. For him it was a personal connection borne out of thousands of years and countless generations. Like he said, it was a symbiotic relationship that they wanted to renew – but why?
‘For what purpose?’ Harker asked, his voice tinged with sympathy.
‘Because, Alex, we believe it is only right that they continue, doing what they have done for thousands of years. But there is a far more practical reason, which is simply that they live so much longer than us. Imagine how many generations of us humans would be needed to maintain the Ark for another two thousand years! And what if our descendants decided not to continue with duty, or some of us died unexpectedly and broke the chain? What then? But the Annunaki, living their monastic life here, would need only half the number of generations to reach the date of the next cataclysm, and during a time when not just their knowledge but their very size and strength would be so important as well. This way therefore offers the best chance of not only keeping the Ark a secret, but more importantly making sure it is still here when needed most.’
There were so many things Harker was struggling to get to grips with at this moment, but his mind kept circling back to the creature he had encountered, because there was something about it that did not fit into the narrative he was being told. ‘If the Annunaki were so big, then how come the one you cloned was so small?’
Wexler gazed down at the floor morosely. ‘Because he was just a child, Alex, no more than eight years old.’
Harker drew back in shock as if the very words were causing him physical damage. He could only imagine the terror and pain that the child had gone through at the hands of Legrundy. It had been heartbreaking even though he had not guessed how young the Annunaki had been. At five feet tall, he had assumed that whatever it was had been fully grown.
‘I’m so sorry, Michael. I had no idea.’
Wexler appeared to accept the apology, even though Harker himself had done nothing wrong. But just being party to such a tragedy was enough.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Alex. And from what I heard you were there to comfort him near the end.’
How Wexler might know that was a question for another time, and the Guardian now moved on to answer the further questions he knew Harker must have but had not yet voiced.
‘This all started by pure accident, and if it had not been for the ship that sank in the Gibraltar strait, and in doing so revealed the pyramid, then I doubt we would be having this conversation. But it did and here we are. The pyramid you explored was built many years after the cataclysm occurred, as a place to which survivors might be attracted over the millennia. Then the Annunaki semis, or steward, would determine if those who visited were suitable. If they seemed peaceful and decent, then they would be given a coin, and we, the Guardians, would trek here with them to the Ark. The Annunaki had already developed the concept of latitude and longitude and so, using maps, the Guardians would guide those considered worthy from pyramid meeting points all over the world. Once they arrived at the Ark
, that coin was – for lack of a better word – used as a chit to be handed over, and then the teaching of agriculture, animal husbandry, stonemasonry and other essential crafts could begin. Then, in time, that knowledge would be taken back to their own communities. The trek itself was seen as a test of character, a challenge to overcome and thus prove one’s determination. If, on the other hand, they were deemed unsuitable by the current steward, then they were turned away, by force if needed, and told never to darken the door of any of the pyramids again.’
‘That’s smart,’ Harker said, acknowledging the simplicity of it all. ‘You wouldn’t want communities based on war and violence to thrive, so why allow them the means?’
‘Exactly,’ Wexler replied, glad to see that Harker was keeping up. ‘But when enough time had passed and human empires began to emerge, there was little the Annunaki could do except be regarded as gods, or endorsers for the people in charge, and that is when they began to retreat. To retreat back to the Ark and prepare once again for the next cosmic throw of the dice. But then that pyramid in Gibraltar was discovered and – lo and behold – who swoops in but the Mithras. Well, that changed things in a very short period of time. For it would not have taken them long to figure out the coin’s meaning, and with that information they would eventually have been standing where you are now, but with domination and greed as the only priorities on their minds. Just revealing the existence of the Ark would have meant ruin for what has constituted the final insurance policy for the continuation of humankind.’
‘I’m amazed you even knew about the Mithras,’ Harker said.
‘We may stay hidden in the shadows, Alex,’ Wexler replied sternly, ‘but I can assure you that we are very aware indeed of the Mithras… as we are of the Knights Templar.’
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