In the Beginning: Mars Origin "I" Series Book I (22 page)

Time slowed down and started to drag.
People and things were moving in slow motion, their mouths opened yelling at
me, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I felt like I was in a
vacuum and I couldn’t get out.

The car drove home on auto pilot. Pulling
in my driveway, I saw Mase’s car. Now, I’d have to try and explain it to him.

I stared at the notebook sitting on the
seat next to me. Still. Inanimate. Yet, it mocked me. I wish I could just make
it go away.

Finally, I grabbed the notebook and got
out of the car. When I went in the house Mase was sitting at the kitchen table
eating a bowl of cereal and reading a magazine.

“Where’re the kids?” I figured I would try
this “calm” act again.

“They’re off somewhere.”

I looked over at him. He was sitting
there, eating his bowl of cereal. Not a care in the world. For some reason that
made me mad.

“Mase.” I shouted his name. He looked at
me startled. “Now, I guess when I cook you won’t be hungry.”

He attempted to protest but had a mouth
full of cereal and muffled words tumbled out. I walked over to the sink and
there were several other dishes, skillets and pots in the sink. I really didn’t
think I’d been gone that long.

“So what, Mase?” I pointed to the sink.
“The cereal is your dessert?”

“I’ll eat whatever you cook.”

“Yeah, I bet you will,” I said.

I hadn’t planned on cooking anyway.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked casually.

“I went to work. Then I just kind of drove
around for a while then went to see Greg at his office.” I tried to be causal,
too.

“Yeah, Greg called. Said you were having
some kind of nervous breakdown or something right in his office.”

“He said that?”

“Yep.”

“What’d you say?”

“Just told him I would check out our
medical coverage to make sure it covered mental health. I told him that I would
never leave you just because you had become mentally unsound, but just in case,
maybe he should draw up some papers for us before you become fully
incompetent.”

I mustered up a smile.

“So you want to tell me about this? Or do
you want to just go around flipping out in the middle of Downtown Cleveland and
keep it to yourself?”

 I looked at him. One gift my husband had
always given me was his time and understanding. He would listen to me
attentively, and he would hear what I was saying. Walking over to the kitchen
table I sat down.

“It’s about the manuscripts.” I laid the
notebook on the table and pushed it toward him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

I started to cry. Again.

“You know the notebook that I got from
Mrs. Margulies contained the copy of the manuscript that I found in Jerusalem,
right?” He nodded. “Well, once I translated it, I found that it contained some
very surprising -” I took a deep breath. “Some very disturbing information.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? Is this information that
terrible?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t think so
but I’m the only one in the world who knows this. I’m a historian and now I
know something that I don’t want to tell anyone. I want to hide it. To put it
in a cave in the middle of the desert and pray that no one finds it. Ever.” I
stood up as I talked and began to pace the floor like I had done in Greg’s
office.

Mase watched me.  “So, why can’t you tell
anyone?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Because no one would believe me. Everyone
would think I’m crazy.”

“A lot of us already do.”

“And, ridicule me.” I hoped no one had
been ridiculing me.

“Really?”

“Yes, really and we, well at least
I
,
would be the laughing stock of the century, of all eternity.” I started to cry
more. I went over in front of the kitchen sink and leaned against the counter.

“Don’t cry, Justin.” He got up and came and
stood in front of me. Wiping my tears with the palm of his hand, he put his arm
around me.

“It’s what I found out.” I looked up at
him. “They played God, Mase.”

“Who played God?”

“I can’t explain it. I couldn’t explain it
to Greg. I don’t think I can explain it to anyone. Here, you read it.” I walked
over to the kitchen table picked up the notebook and offered it to Mase.
Instead he grabbed my hand and headed out of the kitchen.

“How about if we go to your study? We can
talk more comfortably there. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

“Well, we’ll get interrupted soon enough.”
I wiped the tears out of my eyes and looked down at my watch. “The kids will
probably come in any minute. I’m surprised they’re not here already.”

“No they won’t interrupt. They won’t be
here.” I looked at him. “After Greg called and told me that you had lost all of
your marbles and was headed home, I had Claire come and get them. They’re
spending the night with her.”

I smiled at him. He’s so smart. I feel so
bad that he has such a crazy wife. He really doesn’t deserve all of the grief I
pile up on him.

“Did you tell her about my little
breakdown?”

“Babe, we all
know
how you are.
Really, it’s okay.”

“Speaking of which, maybe I should call
Greg and let him know I made it home okay.”

“I already called him. I called after I
saw you sitting out in the driveway.”

“You saw me sitting out there?” He nodded.
“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Nope. Figured you’d come in the house
eventually. And, even if you didn’t, I thought I could at least let Greg know
you weren’t out there somewhere, in your car, hysterical, runnin’ over folks.”

I had acted a little bizarre.

“So, before I start reading this thing,”
he took the notebook from me, “why don’t you tell me about it first?” We walked
into my study and he pulled off my jacket, threw it across my desk and sat me
down in a chair.

“Ha, I don’t even know how or where to
begin.”

“Well, I guess the Mad Hatter said it best
-”

“Start at the beginning, go until you get
to the end and then stop. Or something like that, right?”

“Right.” He nodded, smiling.

I knew exactly what he was thinking. I was
beginning to get as corny as Mase.

Mase handed me back the notebook and sat
across from me. He didn’t ask a lot of questions like Greg, his mind wasn’t
always churning. He was more concerned with me getting out what I needed to
say.

“So, tell me about this. What is it
exactly?”

“You have to remember now, this is my
interpretation. My words. Some of the Hebrew and Aramaic words that were in the
manuscript don’t have English equivalents. And, the Latin I had to take as it
came since Claire got it translated for me. And it doesn’t sound Biblical
either.”

“What is that supposed to mean? It doesn’t
sound Biblical?”

“You know like how the Bible was written.”

“Justin, tell me about what happened, not
about the translation.”

“And, you’ll notice that the author
repeats things a lot.” He gave me a look.

“Okay. Just hold on,” I said. “I know you
wanna know what’s inside. But, first you have to realize that this is pure
science.”

“Huh? What does
that
mean?”

“Even though these manuscripts were
‘placed among the sacraments of God’ as Dr. Yeoman put it, they are not
Biblical.”

“Justin, you already said that.”

“I know, but listen. It doesn’t describe
Biblical events. This is apart from what God has done and the author makes that
clear. This is the scientific
continuation
of life, not the
creation
of life. I can’t emphasize that point enough.”

Mase was tapping his foot and waiting with
his hand outstretched for the book.

“Okay. Succinctly it -”

“Succinct? Can you be succinct?”

“Yes I can. Now just hold on.”

“Justin, stop talking to me like you’re
teaching a class. Just say it.

 “Okay. Succinctly, it answers many of
science’s questions about ancient mysteries. Futuristically, the manuscript
foretells of our planet’s destruction unless we heed the warning signs. Presently,
it mirrors how we are today and depicts our life, because their life was
exactly the same, you understand?”

“Yeah, Professor I got it. Now give me
that book.” He snatched it out of my hands, stood up and turned his back to me.
“Forget about your explanations. They are too long-winded. I’ll just read it
myself.”

“Give it back.”

“No. I need to read this for my own
curiosity. To see what made you even crazier than you already were.”

“Okay. Okay. But let me just tell you one
more thing.”

“One more thing, Justin. You can tell me
more thing then you are going to be quiet and let me read this thing.”

“It’s about the meteorite.”

“Tell me, Justin.” He sat back down.

“Remember how Michael found out the stuff
about the meteorite?”

“Yeah.”

“So, the meteorite theory hypothesizes
that proof of life on Mars may have been brought down on the meteorite, which,
of course, really stumped me because I don’t believe in evolution. How could we
have come from an organism that came down from Mars on a rock, right?

“No evolution of man in this?” He tapped
on the notebook.

“No. And, I went and did some research on
my own, before I got the notebook. I found that some people believe that the
meteorite did not contain evidence of
a true organism
because of the
lack of DNA. They agreed with me, the theory of man evolving from an organism
on a meteorite from Mars seemed far-fetched. So, I kept reading and I found out
some things about Mars and Earth that really didn’t mean a lot to me until
after I translated the manuscripts.”

“What I found is that there’s this theory
that about four-and-a-half billion years ago Earth and Mars may have had almost
the same atmosphere. Mars was most likely wetter and warmer than it is now for
at least the first billion years or so. This theory hypothesizes that life
formed here on Earth and on Mars, but it only flourished on Earth. And, in
support of this theory, the photos taken in 1971 of Mars’ surface showed
volcanoes, canyons, and dried river beds.” I stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Mase said. “Does that mean
something?”

“Yeah, it means what’s in this manuscript
is true.”

“Well, I don’t know what’s in the
manuscript because I haven’t had a chance to read it,” he said flatly.

“It means that life on Mars is possible
because it had water. Then I found out that after they analyzed the meteorite,
instead of the planets being on an even keel, or having the same atmosphere at
the same time as originally thought, it was found that Mars is about a billion
years ahead of us in its development. The meteorite is about four-and-a-half
billion years old and rocks from Earth at that same stage of development are
only about three-an-a-half billion years old. Mars developed before we did. You
understand.” He nodded. “So, then what happened during the billion years when
Mars was ahead of us in development?

“I don’t know, Justin.” He sounded
confused. “What happened?”

“The manuscript.”

“The manuscript?”

“Yes. The manuscript.”

“Okay,” he said, “let me think this
through. There is about a billion years difference in each of the planets’
development, Mars being ahead of Earth.”

“Right.”

“And, there’s evidence of water on Mars,
which means it
could
have sustained life.”

“Yes.”

“Human life?”

“Yes.”

“Sooo? What?”

“So, this is what the manuscript is all
about, Mase. It tells the story of what happened during those billion years.
Without the manuscript we would not have ever known, we would have never found
out what happened on Mars when it was ahead of us in its development. When it
was a planet capable of sustaining life. That’s the story in the manuscripts.”

“Okay, Justin, I got you. Now. Shush. Let
me read.”

Mase flipped through the pages of the
notebook and settled back in the big armchair. I saw his eyes scan across the
pages and his lips move as he quietly read my writing. I closed my eyes and saw
every word. I could have recited it right along with him as he read.

I have always been too critical of my
writing. Poring over each word and every sentence trying to use the right
words, to use a vocabulary that was far beyond my common knowledge. In every
sentence wanting to write something that all would admire and praise me for,
perhaps to contribute to my futile existence. Mostly though, my writings are
scattered thoughts, perhaps to match my scattered wits and this scattered
reality. But this must be written, not for literary accolades or as the
handbook or bible of the multitudes of today or of tomorrow, maybe never to be
read, but so that it is known and written down.

I opened up my eyes, got up and walked
over and stood in front of my French doors. It was getting dark out now. The
stars in the night sky seemed to wink at me.

Gazing out into the heavens, we need not
think it vain to feel our existence is solitary, that there is no one else out
there. For we know it as true. For millions of years we have been alone. God
has told us there is no human life other than our own. And we ourselves have
searched the heavens.

Life is singularly ours.

There are stars in the blackened sky that
light our way across the earth, across the seas, across the galaxies. Let me be
that beacon to those who seek the truth, which come after me, so that they may
find their way. Their way perhaps, back home.

I turned on the floodlights to the flower
garden. Anxious about Mase reading the “little history” I dug up, I began to
pace.

I am a self-appointed historian, reciting
the foundations of human life, not its actual beginnings, but life as we have
seen fit to continue it. For now it is our duty to perpetuate this life, for we
alone possess it and we alone have destroyed it.

It had not been my designation to write of
this transformation but I felt compelled to do so. It was necessary that our
descendants have some record of their origins.

I was privy to all of the activities of
the move to the new earth. I know how it unfolded from the beginning. Complete
knowledge was given to me and only a few others. I was, of course, not there in
the beginning as it was millennia before my time. But I was there at the end,
watching as right before my eyes the end of one world and the beginning of
another unfolded.

What would I do with my knowledge? There
were no provisions to make a record. No knowledge was to be saved - not even
for the new planet. But I could not take it to my grave. Silently, I must give
it to those who will come after us. Those who would never know this earth as
their home.

I was compelled to write. To forewarn
those that came after us not to take the course we, their ancestors, had taken.
To give our history, alas, their history and to calm any fears that our
descendants may have on the chance they return and find the ruins of this
civilization, or rather the beginnings of their existence.

First, know that God created man and
placed him on this earth and it was the earth whose place was the fourth from
the sun.

And know it is true that God created the
heavens and earth and all that is within. We knew that we did not create life
but we are the ones that have made it continue, we have made it thrive. Was it
God’s divine intervention that made us know what to do? Or what it the god
inside of us?

Perhaps, in our minds they had become one
and the same.

God Help Us.

It was necessity that first forced our
minds to expand, and it was this expansion that built our grandiose arrogance
borne through our cherished accomplishments. We excelled in industrial
technology, quantum physics, and genetic replication - scientific advancements
that led to global obliteration.

Is such a mind one of superiority?

What will become of us?

God help us
.

“Why are some of the words in red?” Mase
looked up from his reading. I stopped pacing and came over and looked down over
his shoulder.

“Those are words that really didn’t have
an English equivalent, so I had to use context clues to figure out the word.”

He must have gotten to the words
“industrial” and “quantum physics,” I thought.

“So, you made them up?” He looked
concerned.

“No. I used context clues to determine
what the word should be.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He went back to reading.

Our vast knowledge that we once embraced
as a conquest over even God has awarded to us, the victors, a prize of
genocide. We have dealt ourselves the hand of death, yet our arrogance appears
to be unscathed.

I hovered over him for a little while. He
read intently, running his fingers under the words as he went along. I hoped he
understood what I translated.

God Help Us.

Our arrogance and negligence soon far
surpassed our compassion and even our common sense. Once we thought we
wittingly held the knowledge of the universe, the secrets to life, in our very
hands, yet, it seems, we have only outwitted ourselves.

This land, our home, is now dry and
desolate. The temperature is rapidly dropping and the absence of water has
become commonplace. There have been changes in the gases of the atmosphere that
surrounds our planet and it has changed our once blue sky to a rusty-colored
warning of our terminal existence. The arrival of our sun’s light, that once
resoundingly enveloped the horizon at sunrise, no more gives us hope for a new
day but has only become a dismal reminder of our calamity. Perhaps, it is best
that we must live out our last days underground.

God Help Us.

Oh how we have wept! Our tears could once
again fill our empty oceans. We are constantly confronted with the sadness that
our efforts to save our planet may be too late.

As I started pacing again, tears began to
well up in my eyes.

Must we wait in our ruins for God to
redeem us?

The sadness of our people, the sickness
that they have had to endure, the desolation of our land, all evidence that
this planet cannot sustain life again.

But now there have come murmurings among
the people that perhaps God, in His infinite wisdom has made provisions for us.
We had hope. He would rescue us.

Yes, we possessed the knowledge to release
ourselves from this catastrophic event. There was another home that we could
take. A planet that was able to sustain human life, to perpetuate our life. And
we reasoned that we would take it into our own hands. We will insure the
survival of the species. We will learn from our mistakes. We will have a new
home. We will continue.

Here begins the embodiment of our
fascination.

We looked again to the third planet - this
time not as the manifestation of our ego, but as the hope of our dying planet.
The hope of a dying people. We would take destiny into our own hands and with
it we would create the perfect world.

Surely this was not chance that the third
planet followed in our footsteps? We had played with the planet’s resources
before. We could without much effort make the planet suitable for us. We will
populate the planet with life. Our life.

It was decided, all were to be of one
kind, one people. For we have found that difference breeds hatred. They were
not to be given the knowledge of the ages.

We would create the perfect world . . .

Ah, we would give them all they needed to
continue, but such a small amount of what we are. We shall be silent on that
vast and infinite knowledge that we have obtained, that has led to our
destruction. They must find that on their own.

God help us.

And now our greatest fear. Would our
descendants, how many millions of years from now, fashion such technology to return
to this wasteland? Return and find that they are us, and we are them?

We cannot hide or destroy what is left,
nor can we hide the evidence left on the new planet. We contemplated on some
explanation. And for that record, this is how it all began.

This is the story of our migration.