In the Beginning: Mars Origin "I" Series Book I (26 page)

“Our concern here,” Major Hughes started
speaking before he even got back to his seat, “is that we can’t let Mr. and
Mrs. John Q. Public worry that some alien being will come and destroy them with
‘nuclear ray guns’ or the like. We need to have time to find out what exactly
happened up there.”

Mr. Kevron took in a breath, puffed out
his cheeks and blew it out. “This is what the people want. ‘Star Trek – to go
where no man has gone before,’” he said. “Personally, I think it’s a bunch of
hogwash. We are far superior to any other life out there, if in fact there is
other life. You want my opinion on the matter, we are the only life in the
universe and always will be until we colonize it.”

Major Hughes took a more forceful
approach, oddly out of character and possibly bordering on insubordination. “I
know that you have your personal views, and whatever they are, are of no
consequence to the matter at hand. I was ordered to relay to you, that our
concern is for the public. The public is unable to handle things of this
nature. We must lay it out for them and tell them how we want them to see it.
And,” Major Hughes continued, “we must be in position, when we do come in
contact with aliens, as not to allow outside influences to thwart the success
of our defense. Precedence must be our rule of thumb. History dictates our actions.
We know what must be done. The public cannot handle certain information and
they must be dealt with delicately, otherwise, it could very well lead to mass
mania and public hysteria. Add nuclear capabilities to an alien scare, Mr.
Kevron, and we have disaster.”

“Yes, it would be a disaster.” Mr. Kevron
could tell that Mr. Hughes was genuinely concerned over the threat of an
encounter with aliens. He even seemed frightened. He chuckled to himself, holding
back the urge to laugh out loud.

“So, is that all?” He had heard enough of
this ‘space invaders’ talk. Major Hughes nodded.

“Well, in that case, I’ll walk out with
you. I need more coffee.”

Major Hughes sent Dr. Phillips on his way
and he and Mr. Kevron went back through the CI’s office to leave the same way
Mr. Kevron had entered that morning. As Major Hughes stepped off the private
elevator at the first floor, Mr. Kevron pushed “B” again for the basement. As
the doors closed he heard Major Hughes remark, “Well, thank goodness we are the
only ones who know.”

Cleveland
Heights, Ohio

June
1, 2000

“Well, thank goodness we are the only ones
who know,” I said out loud. That was a comforting thought to me. Mase and I
were the only ones that knew what the manuscripts revealed.

I sat on one of the two steps that led
from my French doors to my flower garden.  Soon it would be dusk, but for now
the sun still beamed brightly in the beautiful blue, cloudless sky. I sat with
my face toward it enjoying the warmth from the sun shining down on me.

It had been three years since I discovered
Dr. Yeoman’s journal, and often those days still filled my thoughts. I never
found out what happened as to why the research seminar ended so abruptly. I do
know, though, that it didn’t have anything to do with the manuscripts that Dr.
Sabir had discovered. And, I know that the manuscripts did not hold a curse.

No one killed anyone, no one is following
me, and the entire Biblical community and its beliefs are not going to crumble
because of these manuscripts. It may cause a mass panic when the world finds
out its beginnings, but it will not hurt our belief in God. It may, in fact, be
helpful. To know that Man has believed in God, even before the formulation of
this earth, can only add to the Christian’s quest to spread the Word.

It was a comforting thought for me to know
that “other forces in the universe” were not at work trying to undermine my
efforts of finding out the truth. But now that I knew the truth, what was my
obligation?

Aristotle wrote that ‘
man is a living
being capable of receiving knowledge
,’ but was man capable of knowing what
I knew?

I doubt it.

Mase came up with an idea. Instead of me
making an announcement, or holding a press conference and just blurting it all
out, he said, “Just write a book.” A work of fiction. Tell, but not tell. Sort
of like what the Essenes and Dr. Yeoman did. Leaving clues but making them hard
to find.

So that’s what I did. I wrote a book.
Fiction. For the most part. People could believe it or not. I changed some of
it to make the authenticity of it all - questionable. For instance, I said that
the four manuscripts with the revelation came from Cave 4 and were translated
and shown to the Editor-in-Chief in 1949. Actually, Cave 4 wasn’t discovered
until 1952.

And of course names and events were
changed, like Ghazi’s name, certainly of Arabic origin, not likely the name of a
person to be living in Jerusalem. And, Dr. Yeoman winning the Nobel Prize in
Science. No such category. They only award achievements in
Chemistry,
Physics, Literature, Physiology, Medicine and Peace
. I put in stuff that I
couldn’t possibly know, too, like how much NASA really knows about Mars. And, I
added conversations, like Claire said, “for the dramatic effect.”

Kind of cowardly, huh?

Well, to ensure that that “coward” label
stuck, I decided to use a pseudonym - - a
nom de gare
. I didn’t want to
use my real name. I decided to use my grandmother’s maiden name. And, I always
liked the name Abby, it means “gives joy” in Hebrew. I’d hope that this
revelation would bring some sort of joy once it was out. “
Abby Vandiver
.”
Yeah, that sounds good. No one would ever think it was me.

I hated doing it.

The book, where it’s important, tells the
truth. Like there was life on Mars. That part is true. When I wrote that that
life came here after they destroyed their planet. That part is true. And, when
I wrote that they were not “aliens” but men and women, the same as me and you,
that part is true, too.
Each and every word of it.

 
But what is most important about these
truths is that the how and whys of our ancient mysteries, thanks to the
manuscripts, aren’t a mystery anymore. We now know exactly what happened.

 I donated the notebook of the
untranslated copy of the manuscripts to the University in Jerusalem a day after
I finished the translation. I sent it to Ghazi and told him to make sure it got
to the right people. That’s been a couple of years ago. I haven’t heard
anything from the University about it, or from Ghazi, not even a ‘Thank You’
note. They probably never looked inside of it, just threw it in a drawer and
forgot all about it.

Maybe my book will catch a following and
someone will find out the truth from that.

But for right now it’s probably best no
one knows. I don’t want to possibly destroy my family’s reputation and having
them ridiculed for my sake. No one in the family knows the whole story. Greg
knows the most. He knows that Man came from Mars. Well, at least he heard me
say it. I don’t know if he really believed me. The only thing that he really
believes is that I am definitely mentally deranged. I hadn’t really told Claire,
either. I just told her I didn’t want to talk about it. The rest of my siblings
never knew that I found the complete copy of the manuscript, so they didn’t
know to ask. Everyone was so concerned about my mental well-being that they didn’t
want to do anything that might send me back over the edge now that I was “doing
so much better.” They all figured that just the mention of the manuscripts
would probably do just that.

 The book will be out before my birthday
in August. I suppose I should be filled with butterflies or goose bumps knowing
that I will be a published author and soon the entire world will know the truth
about Man’s origins.

Hmm, the truth.

I was thinking about writing a sequel. I only
included the text of part of one of the four manuscripts. Maybe I’ll include
the text of all four in the next book, tell the whole story. Plus, although I
only imagined a big conspiracy, murder, treason and the like, those things
actually happened during the planning and execution of our “migration.” Whether
viewed as fiction or non-fiction (which it is), that story would be a thriller.

But could I go through that again? For so
long I had been a torrent of emotions. Depression. Obsession. Paranoia. Insanity.

Yet, I don’t think this discovery would
have interested me as much if there had not been that spurious void in my life.
Maybe it was a good thing that I was in “such a mood.” There was no reason for
the feelings that I had previous to me finding out about the manuscript, except
maybe only to lead me to them.

I got up off the step and walked into the
garden shed. I pulled out the garden hose, hooked it up to the faucet and
turned on the water.

Maybe I had found my purpose in life.
God’s plan for me.

I watered the flowers that lined the
cobblestone path and thought about that for a moment.

Yeah. Maybe I would win a Nobel Prize.

There’s that arrogance again. I chuckled
to myself. Like anyone will read my book as a work of history. More than likely
they’ll burn it. I’ve got that same arrogance that destroyed our “Mother
Planet” (the name I’ve adopted when referring to Mars, only when talking to
myself or Mase of course). I suppose everyone has illusions of grandeur.

I turned off the water, kicked off my shoes
and let my feet sink into the wet grass that edged my flower bed. I wiggled my
toes.

I remember thinking once if we had the
chance to do it all over again, live our lives, tend to our concerns –
globally, we could get it right. Using the technology we have today, we ‘could
create the perfect world’.”

“Create a perfect world.”

Funny. That was the same thing the author
of the manuscripts had written. The thoughts of our ancestors were the same
thoughts that I have today. Just like Mase said. We are all the same. No matter
when and where we’re born.

I wiped each foot on the opposite pant leg
of my denim Capri’s and slid them back in my pink flip flops. I left the hose
lying in the grass. I’ll make Micah get it later.

I looked up at the setting sun, squinted
my eyes, and stared at it for a while. I looked back down at my flowers, they
glistened with the kiss of water on each petal.

I had been so concerned that I was living
my life in vain, that my existence was meaningless. Now I know that it’s not.
Every effort by Man leads us closer to God. And that is our purpose. It is our
journey, our place in the full circle of life. The road that we as a species
must all travel – from God back to God. What His purpose for putting us here
was, I haven’t a clue.

But, I no longer feel as if I have some
internal void, that I’m working against time and time is just running out. I
have found that I was on the right path all along in trying to educate Man. It
is Man’s purpose, and mine, to pass on the knowledge.

But without knowing of the manuscripts
would we be,
“Ever learning but never coming to the knowledge of the truth?”

I decided to put the hose back myself.

I walked back out through the grass to get
the hose.

All those months I was running around
chasing the meaning of those manuscripts and the meaning was right in front of
my face. All the homeless people sleeping over manhole covers in the streets of
downtown Cleveland. Teenagers, graduating from high school and can’t read.
Families without enough to eat.

After Dr. Margulies’ death, I found that
there were so many things that I hadn’t known about him. I had practically told
him everything about myself, my problems and my dreams, yet I never took the
time out to listen to him. I never knew that he wasn’t close to his mother or
that his father died when he was young. I guess I was more like Ty than I ever
realized or cared to admit. Consumed with my own problems and not taking the
time to find out about other people’s problems.

My mother always says, “There was a man
who was sad because he didn’t have any shoes until he met a man who didn’t have
any feet.”

I never appreciated what I had. Always
thinking I needed more. Just like those men on Mars.

Blind to my surroundings.

Just so involved with me.

Not anymore. I don’t take for granted that
I have a good life. The things that are important. I have a good relationship
with God and I have a good relationship with my family. A good, no, a
very
good
- - absolutely the best, husband.

Sometimes when I read back over the things
I wrote in the notebooks I had filled during my days of depression, I laugh. I
mean really laugh. But my writings show me my strengths, my ability to
persevere, and how I let the little incidents in my life envelope me and become
a part of me. So, I learn from them.

I put the hose back in my old, rickety
wooden garden shed and closed the door. I tried to secure it with the homemade
lock that Mase made but I couldn’t get it. I left it unlocked. I’d make Mase
come and fix it later.

I turned and headed back toward the house
and I heard the slow, creaking sound of the shed door as it came back open. I
went and sat on the stoop, looking up to the darkening sky.

I find that I pray much more than I used
to, and I care more about world concerns. I recycle. I find time to volunteer
as much as I can. I try to do just the little things. I’ve joined various
humane groups and have dragged, initially kicking and screaming, my children,
husband, parents and siblings with me. But they have ‘evolved’ into my way of
things. I definitely don’t support any space missions and speak out against
them whenever the opportunity arises. Because what? Are we just going to keep
moving from planet to planet? We just need to fix the one we’re on.

On a larger scale, Claire and I decided to
really help with the ills in our own backyard. There were several elementary
schools in our area that closed and the buildings were unoccupied and wasting
away. By twisting Greg’s arm we were able to come up with the financing to buy
one of the buildings from the City and make it a homeless shelter. Claire is
our resident doctor. Michael and Callie volunteer their time helping some of
our ‘guests’ get their GED. Sean refurbished old computers for the shelter, and
Doobie and Gerald did an excellent job of readying the place. And all of our
children work there during school breaks. We have, of course, have not given up
our regular jobs, and will eventually have to find someone to run it full-time.
We’ve applied for government grants. Hopefully we can get some help. We plan on
opening another center next spring.

We have all been so misinformed. Maybe
that’s why we are destroying ourselves.

I remember Michael saying that through my
work, I could make a contribution to a greater understanding of our beliefs
today, and what the world will believe tomorrow. I hope the book would do that.
Hopefully after learning of my discovery men will re-evaluate themselves.
Rethink their control over their fate and learn the value of their planet,
their home. I want man to realize that through hatred, ignorance and greed we
are destroying our planet and this race, the one race we all share, the human
race.

It was getting dark. The colors of my
flower garden had completely faded in the enveloping night. I looked over at
the opened garden shed door.