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Authors: Stel Pavlou

BOOK: Decipher
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November reached over and helped him up. He staggered, breathless, like he'd been sucker-punched in the
chest. “Just shut up! Quit arguing and listen to me. You're not listening!”
Unsteady on his feet, Scott tried to breathe again as they all watched him expectantly. Matheson edged forward as Scott wheezed.
“Tell us what we need to do, Richard,” the engineer offered meekly. “Just tell us what we need to do and we'll do it.”
“I need you to understand,” Scott said simply. “I need you all to listen because when I open these doors there's a good chance none of us will be making it back out alive.
“This Great Hall is like the Tree of Knowledge, the repository of all things physical and metaphysical. Right now, I'm plugged into a vast bank of information that I can access with a single thought. Now, everything that these people were, everything that these people knew—I know.
“This
Var
serves a dual purpose. In the event that humankind made it, that we progressed far enough to understand how to use this place since the last Great Catastrophe, our knowledge can be expanded infinitely and we will be permitted access to this knowledge that is rightfully ours.
“But in the event that we fail to instruct the central command center of this city that we even exist and need saving, then this machine will enforce its other role. It will release back into the environment genetic material intended to re-seed life all over this planet. But the life that it was supposed to re-seed has been changed. Altered, by the very creations the people of Atlantis built to protect their city. These nanoes are alive—and they don't want to die. They are waiting for us behind these doors—and when I open them—they
will
try to kill us.”
“They've already tried to kill us,” Gant spat.
November was shaking. “Dr. Scott,” she said, “you're really starting to scare me. You don't even sound like yourself.”
“
I'm
scaring you?” It was almost funny, Scott thought. “November, I'm the least of your worries.”
“Richard,” Hackett said, “you don't look so hot.”
“What's the matter, Jon? Jealous the voices in my head aren't talking to you?”
As he said this the faces along the length of the floor began to move again. Crawling up the walls, they warped and twisted until they coalesced once more into whole bodies—entire people seen in actual size, wearing the clothing and adornments of their age. A sea of people who stood silent now, and watching. Like spectators at the end of Time. A sea of imprisoned souls who stood just inches away behind a crystal partition.
Scott was showing the group how to most effectively use the sonic artifacts in their possession for defensive work when it was time for them all to press onward.
“The nanoes,” he explained, “were designed to maintain all those structures around the planet. And by necessity they were given limited artificial intelligence. An ability to act collectively and the ability to reproduce.”
Hackett thought as much. “And in so doing, they evolved,” he said, taking over the story. Scott eyed him. That was correct. “Biological complexity theory dictates it takes fifty thousand years to create the human eye from scratch. Twelve thousand years' worth of evolution in a pre-created species is more than enough to assume these critters have become truly smart little fuckers.”
“Yeah,” Scott agreed. “And they wish to go on evolving. They want their shot at planet Earth. As they see it, we've had our turn and we screwed up.”
Hillman slammed another clip into his machine gun. “It ain't over till the fat lady sings,” he growled, “and as there aren't any fat chicks hereabouts, I guess we're gonna be around for a while yet.”
Hackett scratched his brow. “Cute.”
“It ain't cute,” Hillman warned. “It's a fuckin' promise.”
Yun moved up next to Scott. “Is this what happened last time? The machines took over?”
“This isn't what happened last time,” the linguist said soberly. “They just didn't finish the network in time.” He addressed the whole group collectively. “It wasn't finished.
And they knew it wouldn't be finished. That's why they built religious mythologies into their plan. Studied the human psyche and worked on ways of keeping the ideas and the knowledge alive for generations to come until we as a species were smart enough to piece it all together again. So groups of scientists were sent out, protected during the initial catastrophe, their mission to rebuild civilization and see to it that the network was completed.”
“So is it finished
now?”
Pearce was desperate to know. “We can't have come all this way for something that doesn't even work properly!”
“It is finished now,” Scott reassured him firmly. “Eventually, after the last flood, survivors set to work making sure the network was complete. They split into groups and took civilization with them back to the people of earth. They were the original Founding Fathers.
“In South America, myth has it that civilization was brought to their land by Quetzalcoatl, the bearded one. Facial hair is alien in South America—why would they invent such a characteristic? It's genetically impossible for them to grow beards. They would have to have seen one. Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian, both of the third century C.E., speak of the same collected myths as do Lactantius, Zosimus and the Roman Emperor Julian of the fifth century C.E.—that gods in the form of men brought wisdom with them from a land that was destroyed in a flood.”
Scott wiped away the blood that was trickling from his nose. “Atlantis itself was complete. The major hubs of this network were complete, but the linking structures needed to be created. These linking structures required only a rudimentary knowledge of technology—raising stones, digging tunnels and so forth. They thought of everything. They were smart people. Smarter than you and me.”
Pearce tapped the linguist on the shoulder. “Do you know where we're going?”
“Yes, I know where we're going.”
“Oh really? How?”
Scott said: “Because I've been there. I have seen it.”
Pearce let a wry grin spread across his face. “Oh, you've seen it, have you?” he countered. “Sorry, but I don't believe you.”
Scott didn't retaliate, but then, he didn't have time since Gant had taken to quizzing him too. “What do we do when we get there? This central command area—this control room: what does it look like?”
“You'll know,” Scott promised. “You can't miss it. But don't worry, I'll lead you. Sarah and I know what to do when we get there.”
He reached out and held her hand. It was as if they were communicating on a level beyond the purview of the others now. Communicating at a secret level, perhaps even at the level of pure thought transmitted via electrical impulses through the crystal machine of the city.
“What will we have to do when we get there?” Gant stressed, not in the habit of repeating himself.
Scott said: “Believe me, if I told you, you wouldn't like it.”
“I don't like it anyway.”
They were lined up, weapons all set to go. Scott clenched his eyes shut for a moment, as if he were fighting yet again some torturous war that was playing out in the battlefield of his mind. After a few seconds he was able to wrench them open again and stared straight ahead at the wall in front of them all.
“Ready?”
There were murmurs of acknowledgment.
 
Scott nodded, and that was when the doors began to open.
Hopi Indians have twin gods, Poqanghoya and Palongawhoya, guardians of the north and south axes respectively, whose task it was to keep the planet rotating properly. They were ordered by Sotuknany, nephew of the Creator, to leave their posts so that the “second world” could be destroyed because its people had become evil. Then the world with no one to control it teetered off-balance, spun and rolled over. Mountains plunged into the sea. Seas and lakes flooded the land—the world froze into solid ice. The first world was destroyed by fire, and the third world by water.
 
Jeffrey Goodman,
The Earthquake Generation
, 1979
They began as shafts of light, the 12-foot-long gaps that were appearing at intervals along the base of the inner wall of the Great Hall where it met the floor. Inch by inch the gaps grew larger and as the mighty doors above began to rise up, so too did the temperature as hot air blasted inside to meet them.
It was like standing at the mouth of a furnace.
Matheson and Hackett looked at one another uneasily. “What the hell's going on down here?”
The others clutched their weapons tightly, as the doors continued their slow laborious rumble toward their zenith. The light streaming in was fierce and November even found she had to shield her eyes before stepping out onto the concourse beyond.
She squinted as her eyes took time to adjust. But when she could see clearly again the view that presented itself could only be described as Biblical.
 
The spires of Atlantis stood gleaming in the distance.
Vast columns of gargantuan crystal so epic in their proportions that it seemed for all the world as if they were supporting the very roof of the ice cavern in which the City of Atlantis stood.
The cavern itself had to have been in excess of several tens of kilometers across and at least half a kilometer high. Its surface was rippled and deformed by a series of melted rivulets where the intense heat had carved out this immense hollow. Mighty stalactites hung down; some hung free while others had formed columns which were still frozen solid onto the many buildings which made up the city.
But as spectacular as the cavern was, it was as nothing compared to Atlantis.
The team stood on an inner causeway, like castle battlements or an endless balcony. It was the upper viewing platform of the outer wall that encircled the entire city.
Fifty feet beneath them, half-submerged in ice, stood the intricate stone buildings, streets and alleyways of the outer suburbs. Some of the houses were free from ice and were resplendent
in their wall coverings. Glistening golden sheets covered whole rooftops and frescoes adorned the walls of many of the buildings. Other settlements were not so lucky: mini-glaciers still blocked roads, and buildings stood frozen by ice and time.
There was a sense of ghostly desolation below. A hollowness. A sense of past trauma still indelibly etched in the scenery. A feeling that, should any of the team have had time to go down and visit some of the neighborhood, they would have seen nothing through the windows but gloom and misery.
The district below seemed dim and dark and blue. Frozen in time. It reminded some of the images of Pompeii, dug up after so many centuries swallowed whole by the lava flows of Mount Vesuvius. Yet this was no ancient archeological site, all silt-ridden and rotting. This was a city that was still vibrant. A city whose very essence had been preserved in the ice.
This was a city in stasis. Quite literally—in cryogenic freeze. A city in waiting, that still deserved to have people walk her streets.
The team got moving, off toward the main gigantic thoroughfare that was the size of a football field in width and led in a perfectly straight line directly into the heart of the city. A heart that was plugged directly into the plasma twister that had plowed its way down from space and which they had all witnessed boring into the ice when they were up at the surface.
 
The scale of this place was so vast, so enthrallingly immense that it took the team half an hour to actually reach the entrance to the thoroughfare. And it was as they made their way over that they were able to truly capture the vista before them.
The glittering towers of Atlantis had a backdrop of glowing orange, a vibrant, shimmering heat haze as though the entire city stood on the edge of a forever sunset. The fiery ice was lit up and made incandescent by an active volcano that was spewing forth lava some distance off, perhaps many kilometers further imbedded in Antarctic ice. Frighteningly alive, the light that had refracted all the way to this
cavern flickered and brightened as the volcano continued to erupt.
Coupled with the beams of light were scalding vents of steam which blasted through cracks in the cavern walls, filling the air with sulfurous fumes that formed layers in the air. Some descended upon the city in the form of a fine mist and fog, while the rest pumped directly into the warmer upper layers of this mini-atmosphere and appeared almost like low cloud cover around the tops of the central skyscrapers.
But the show did not end there.
 
Imagine the Empire State Building was a lightning rod. And imagine it had six counterparts. Imagine that together they stood in a circle surrounding a structure not unlike the Great Pyramid of Giza which in itself was also raised off the ground since it sat atop four supporting pylons the size of Liberty herself, and each shaped in the guise of four Herculean creatures.
Imagination would have recreated a vision something akin to what the central portion of the City of Atlantis actually looked like.
Through the massive hole in the middle of the cavern roof, the tremendous vortex of swirling green ions that had been sucked down from space had expanded, and shifted in ferocity and scale. The whole thing had transformed into a writhing mass of furious energy sparkles that acted almost like some gigantic serpent in its movement. Yet at its tip, the energy twister was torn ragged. Frayed, like so many strands of a rope that had come untangled.
Seven strands in all lashed out. Each tendril connecting with one of the massive obelisks which seemed to act as lightning conductors, guiding the energy away for some other purpose.
In turn, every single crystalline structure in the city crackled and pulsated with electricity, from the outer wall of Atlantis to the more distant inner walls, the main thoroughfare and every building beyond. The whole place was alive with richocheting energy and revealed in the process that these structures had served a dual purpose in their pasts. For they showed clear indications of windows and doorways and a multitude of rooms beyond.
Yes, this place had been designed to be lived in. It had served as a real city, even though it was intended to ultimately serve a much higher purpose.
It was only as the team made its way down the thoroughfare that they gained any true comprehension of the sheer vastness of this place. For no matter how long they walked, their ultimate destination seemed to be getting no bigger.
It was one thing to be told that Atlantis showed up on satellite imagery the size of Manhattan. It was another to actually witness it.
 
“‘Flashes of lightning were coming from the throne,'”
November quoted contemplatively,
“‘and the sound of peals of thunder, and in front of the throne there were seven flaming lamps burning, the seven spirits of God. In front of the throne there was a sea as transparent as crystal. In the middle of the throne and around it were four living creatures all studded with eyes, in front and behind …'”
Scott knew the passage well and indicated the vast creatures supporting the pyramid.
“‘And the first living creature was like a lion, the second a bull, the third living creature had a human face, and the fourth living creature was like a flying eagle,'”
he added. “Very good, November. The Book of Revelation, Chapter Four.”
Sure enough, the supporting statues matched each description. November indicated the seven-headed energy twister. “And I guess that represents the seven-headed serpent,” she concluded.
Leviathan. In Hebrew, Livyatan. In Sumerian, Tiamat. The seven-headed primordial sea serpent and symbol of God's power of creation.
Pearce licked his parched lips nervously as they continued to walk the length of the main road in toward the city center. “What else does the Good Book have to say on the subject?” he asked.
Pearce expected either November or Scott to answer him. He was surprised when it turned out to be Gant.
“‘And the seventh angel emptied his bowl into the air, and a great voice boomed out from the sanctuary:”The end has come.” Then there were flashes of lightning and peals of thunder and a violent earthquake, unparalleled since humanity
first came into existence. The Great City was split into three parts and the cities of the world collapsed.'”
The marine shrugged sheepishly. “You ain't the only ones who read the Bible,” he said.
They marched onward, weapons ready.
 
The thoroughfare was like a bridge, or an overpass. And it was not the only one of its kind.
As they tracked forward, Hillman took the opportunity to use his binoculars and assess the layout of the city. From what he could determine, it really did match, to a startling degree, the satellite images and the description given by Plato.
The city was bisected into quarters by a vast crossroads of which they were traversing merely one part. The actual intersection occurred under the pyramid in the center, no doubt, though that was out of sight from their position and had to remain an assumption. Far off in the distance, to the left and right, Hillman could pick out both sides of the perpendicular thoroughfare which led into the same point where they were headed. It meant there were three visible access roads into the center with a fourth presumably on the other side.
As they drew closer to the center, the buildings flanking the roads grew steadily taller. Not proportionately, not stepped up as if governed by some mathematical process, but rather in an irregular, haphazard process that mimicked a real city. In general the closer to the center, the taller the buildings became.
As a result it was an eerie feeling to start passing between tall buildings, their windows dark and lifeless, yet their crystal frames coursing with sparkling energy.
It started to feel like they were the only traffic on an eight-lane interstate.
Hackett glanced up at one of the many towering buildings and nudged November. “Ever wondered who's stood behind one of those windows staring down at us?”
“Stop it,” November shuddered. “This place is creepy enough.”
And she was right. In fact Bob Pearce was saying the same thing, and under his breath began spouting all sorts of
disjointed thoughts, perhaps in an effort to calm his nerves.
Something about the design of a city reinforced the notion of people, he kept saying. Buildings without people spoke of death, loneliness and isolation. Buildings without people were frightening things. Places to fear. Few people spoke of ghosts at rock concerts or on freeways, in bars or in parkland and beaches. Ghosts were in the purview of attics and back rooms, halls and underused bedrooms. Ghosts and their domains said a lot about the human need to fill a void. The deeply rooted psychology of a species that could not tolerate nothingness.
To attribute a ghost to a place said a lot about the architecture of that place too, for it spoke of a building that was not fulfilling the purpose for which it was intended. Through simple lines and geometric patterns, many buildings simply cried out for human contact. And inasmuch as that theory could be applied to Atlantis—here was a city screaming out for human contact on an unbelievable scale.
Hackett took in everything Pearce had to say before commenting. “Yes,” he said, “I'm sure the ghosts back in the Var would agree with you.”
Bob Pearce would have replied, but the whole team drew to a halt. For the way ahead was blocked.
 
It was like some gigantic bucket of vanilla sorbet had toppled over and oozed down Fifth Avenue. The passage between the buildings to the right of the thoroughfare was choked with thick, smooth-flowing glacier ice which had spilled over the road before continuing on down between the buildings to the left.
Luckily for the team however, there was evidence that this ice was aerated. That holes had melted through as hot water had dripped down from above and eroded entire sections throughout the blockage.
Gant pulled back from assessing the situation, pick in hand. Its metal tip was wet from where the glacial ice was in the advanced stages of decay. “It's okay,” he said. “I think I can figure us a way through.”
“That's good,” Hackett commented, checking his watch, “because we just don't have much time left.”
Gant laid into the thin ice. “Tell me something I don't know.” He beckoned impatiently to Yun and the others. “Well, c'mere! Gimme a hand with this!”
The passage twisted and turned and at intervals where the way forward was simply a dead end, it was cleared by either smashing through with a pick, or simply leaning into the ice with brute force and body strength. The ice was so weak and brittle, it was amazing it could sustain its own weight.
“Be careful,” Sarah warned. “There's every possibility this entire cavern's going to collapse.”
They broke free at last and burst out onto the continuation of the main boulevard ahead. A place where the view was as spectacular as it had first been, but revealed yet more details about the city. For branching out before them in a huge arc lay the outer of what Plato had described as two concentric canals, the first of which was so massive that Atlantis was said to harbor her entire fleet within it.

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