by Samuel Fort
Chapter 18 - The Scripts
Ridley met Ben at the door and read his expression. “Apparently Lilian has told you the dire truth.”
The other man said, “What she calls truth, yes. I’ve got some questions for you.”
“I’m sure you do. Lilian and Fiela have some other matters to attend to. Let’s talk.”
He led Ben back to his study and gestured for the man to have a seat in front of his desk. Sitting behind it, Ridley put his fingertips together.
“What questions do you have, nephew?”
“First, why am I here? I was told that you wanted me here to inspect and possibly decipher the Tiwanaku tablets. Lilian, however, has just told me that she needed a husband and that you are, in some way, responsible for ensuring she gets what she wants. I’ve signed a marriage contract that has no legal merit but I’m beginning to think that is why I am really here.”
“Ah,” said Ridley, setting his sights on the ceiling as if he were a professor preparing himself for a class lecture. “Would it be trite to say I have brought you here for both reasons? The facts are that she needed a husband and I needed a researcher. There are many men who might qualify to be her husband who know nothing of ancient writing systems but there are precious few who know about such writing system who could pass the screening necessary to be her husband.”
Ben raised his voice a notch. “You tricked me, then. Into a Nisirtu marriage.”
“Two marriages actually, but I should point out that I have also saved your life.”
“Meaning you brought me here thinking the world will end.”
“Knowing it will.”
“What happens when it doesn’t?”
Ridley raised and dropped his shoulders. “If it doesn’t you can return to your old life.”
Ben studied the old man. “There would be no repercussions?”
“You mean, would you be hunted down and killed?”
“For example, yes.”
The elderly man responded cryptically. “Not by me.”
“That’s not the most comforting answer, Ridley.”
“It’s the best I can do.”
“What about Lilian’s ludicrous hopes that I might be a king in her world.”
“Well, she is your wife. Is not the wife of a king a queen? I think she would like that role very much.”
“But it’s all fantasy!”
Ridley shook his head slowly. “You were born and raised in the land of fantasy, Ben. Only today are you in the real world.”
The researcher groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You, Lilian, and Fiela maintain that the Nisirtu control the world and I’ll admit up front that you’ve provided evidence that you can do incredible things. But I can’t accept that you have absolute control. Someone would have caught on by now.”
The old man replied, “No, at least not recently. We, the Nisirtu, conceal our actions with both time and complexity. We usually work dozens of degrees from our objectives and our scripts can take decades or even centuries to unfold.”
“Centuries?” challenged the linguist.
“Yes.”
“Give me an example, then.”
Ridley thought for a moment. “Consider the beloved one-world currency conspiracy theory. If the Delphic Order of the Nisirtu wanted a single world currency – which we never did, by the way - we would initiate thousands of carefully prepared scripts, all with start points perhaps twenty degrees removed from the objective and a convergence point decades in the future.
“One of those scripts might ensure that some child went to the right kind of school and got the right kind of education, and that he obtained employment in a government trade or commerce department. There he would rise rapidly through the ranks, with our unseen assistance. When, as a result of other scripts, his nation’s economy suffered as a result of ‘unfair’ trade policies imposed by wealthier nations, or because the currencies of those nations are more easily manipulated than his own, he would, if we did our job right, be predisposed to favor a single world currency.
“At that point he could be nudged toward similar people created by similar scripts in other nations, all of whom would be guided to a position that would give them a say in the matter. These people would become secretaries of commerce and trade, influential academics, authors, actors, parliamentarians, senators, presidents and prime ministers.
“Thousands of concurrent scripts would contribute to the objective by causing deflation, riots, war, famine, and so forth. Strictly speaking, a collection of scripts is called a scenario if they all lead to a single objective, but in practice the two terms are used interchangeably.
“Some of a scenario’s initial scripts are written to solicit a strong emotional response from the Ardoon populations. Outrage, preferably, or fear. We use those outlying scripts to create what we call a channel, which is an environment conducive to the desired outcome that increases the probability that subsequent scripts will be successful. A single script may support multiple scenarios, of course. Scripts and scenarios intersect within a web of possibilities.”
Ben said, “The computations necessary to do what you’re talking about would be extraordinary. I’d be surprised if even the most powerful computers could perform such calculations. How could they have been done in ancient times?”
The scribe said, “They were done by hand, at first, using various mathematical formulas. Some scribes developed tools to assist in them. I prefer the scripting boards developed in Egypt, but I am a stick in the mud. Two millennia ago a calculator of sorts was developed, one of which now rests in the hands of the Ardoon.”
That intrigued Ben. “Where?”
“I believe what is left of it is maintained in Athens. It’s called the Antikythera mechanism. I’m sure you’re familiar with.”
“You’re shitting me,” said Ben, unable to control the outburst.
“I’m not shitting you,” responded Ridley with a wry smile. “There were once hundreds of such instruments in the ancient world. The devices’ primary function was to calculate script start and completion dates based on the location of various celestial bodies. I have two such devices that I toy with from time to time. Mine are far more accurate than the ancient versions because they are machined to precision. In antiquity all the components were made by hand, so there was a built-in failure factor.”
Ben, speechless, simply stared at the other man.
Ridley cleared his throat and said, “Enough about scripts. I did not bring you here to write scripts. Would you not like to know about the Tiwanaku tablets?”