Jesus the Extraterrestrial - Origins (7 page)

Sarah got up with her hand over her eyes, walked into the living room and threw herself down on the sofa. The others followed her, concerned at how she was reacting.

‘What is it, darling?’ asked Jane, worried about her granddaughter.

‘Nothing, grandma. I´m just trying to digest all this, trying to believe. Reason tells me not to believe in this sort of stuff, but my heart is telling me the opposite. My brain’s at war.’

‘Yes, Dad,’ said Thomas, ‘I need to digest all this too and think it through. Can I take this blood to my lab to analyze it?’

‘Of course you can, but not today. I want you both to sleep here and go home tomorrow morning early. Your mother and I are going upstairs and we’ll leave you on your own to talk this over. It’s very important you don´t discuss this with anyone else, especially not with your mother, Sarah. Good night to you both.’

C
HAPTER 7

Washington DC, 22nd February 1991

At the senator´s house it was morning. By eight a.m. they had all come downstairs for breakfast. George was the last to descend, bringing two CDs with him. He had spent the night recording and encrypting the CDs with old family files, and details of the family tree, proof of everything he had told his son and granddaughter.

‘Thomas and Sarah, these CDs are for you. They are encrypted with a 2048-bit key, impossible to break without the password. The password is at the back of the family portrait I gave you last Christmas.’

The senator had given each of them an oil painting of the whole family in a group. It had been painted from a photo which had been taken the previous Christmas, when practically the whole Griffin clan was present. That was the only time it was possible to get everybody together.

‘You´ll find a lot of answers in this CD,’ George went on. ‘Thomas, take this parcel, I´ve put the cylinder in it. Please, take good care of it.’

‘Don´t worry, Dad.’

The Griffins finished breakfast and said their goodbyes. Thomas and Sarah took the highway back to New York. As they drove they talked over what had happened, about all the revelations George had made. Both of them were intrigued and pleased to have a part to play in events of such importance.

‘Daddy, I couldn´t sleep last night, thinking about all that grandpa said, and I came to a decision: I want you to make this clone and I want to give birth to it,’ said Sarah with absolute certainty.

‘But daughter, it´s very dangerous. If something went wrong I´d never forgive myself,’ answered Thomas in a worried voice, stroking his daughter´s hair.

‘Daddy, I trust you and, if the worst came to the worst, what could go wrong? You do inseminations every day at your clinic.’

Thomas was a scientist and university lecturer, as well as a consultant to businesses. And he ran a fertilization clinic where he treated women who couldn´t conceive, and carried out artificial insemination procedures.

‘Cloning is a lot more complex. I will have to take an egg of yours, or another egg, and strip the genetic material from it; then I will take a cell from the donor (which will be cloned) and join it to the egg by a process of electro fusion. In this way the embryo will be formed. However the egg may reject the donor´s genetic material and, even if there is no rejection, the child that is born will have nothing of yours, he won’t really be your son, you will merely be providing the womb. And the child could be born dead or deformed. Are you prepared to take such risks?’

‘Daddy, he’ll be my son. Bringing up a child is to be its mother just as much as giving birth to it is.’

Thomas knew he wasn’t going to be able to get this idea out of his daughter’s head; after all, she always got what she wanted. Since she was a little girl she had been very spoilt by her mother and especially by her grandparents.

‘I’ll analyze this blood. If everything´s alright with it I’ll think about what you’ve said.’

Thomas left Sarah at work and went straight to the laboratory at his clinic, which was nearby. When he got there he hurried into the building, anxious to get the analysis done, and he barely greeted the staff and patients. He locked himself in the laboratory and gave instructions not to be disturbed. He put on his white coat and his mask, and took the cylinder out of the parcel his father had made. He looked around to make sure nobody was in the lab, and then he put his finger over the crack at the top of the cylinder, which immediately lit up. With one hand holding the base, and the other the top of the object, he twisted them in opposite directions and with a little click the cylinder opened. Very carefully he tried to pour a drop of blood on to a slide, but the blood would not pour. In fact it wasn’t possible to see the blood inside the cylinder, as the duct inside it was very narrow.

He carefully inserted some cotton wool on a very thin stick into the recipient, and when he withdrew it the tip was dark red, confirming that there really was blood inside. He wiped the cotton wool on the slide – the blood was thick and dark but, amazingly, it had been conserved in that cylinder for nearly two thousand years. Since his father had told him the story, Thomas was almost sure that there was no longer any blood in the tube, since after so many centuries it could have dried out, and in this case it wouldn’t be possible to collect genetic material.

Thomas collected a little more blood. He decided he would use an electronic microscope powerful enough to see even the DNA chain. The analysis would take a little longer, but the precision would be much greater. The microscope had been donated by a billionaire friend of his father’s and cost something in the region of five million dollars, an unimaginably vast sum for Thomas and his humble clinic. After many minutes of waiting, the result of the analysis of the blood started to show up on the computer screen. While this was happening Thomas had gone out of the laboratory to get a cup of coffee. With one eye on his coffee and the other on the computer screen, which he could see from a distance through the glass, he could see that something was appearing on the screen. He swallowed his coffee in a single gulp, burning his throat as it went down, and ran back to the computer. His main objective was to compare the DNA of the blood with his own. He could see on the screen the structure of the cells, the chromosomes and, in small print, he could read the words:

DNA sequencing complete

Pairs of chromosomes = 24

Thomas was thunderstruck. His mouth grew dry. He couldn´t believe his eyes.

‘Impossible! The machine must be broken or badly adjusted!’

Naturally Thomas knew that monkeys have twenty-four pairs of chromosomes. Humans have 23 pairs. He decided to re-do the test, this time making a comparison with his own blood. He took a hypodermic needle and drew a little blood from his own arm, then placed it under the microscope and waited for the result. Eventually the result appeared:

Sequence 1 - 24 pairs of chromosomes

Sequence 2 - 23 pairs of chromosomes

DNA compatibility = 89.786%

Thomas refused to believe it and entered the result in a database which contained all the known species of animal, to find out what species the blood belonged to. But the result was negative: after hours searching the database the computer could find no species to which that DNA belonged. Everything began to become clear in Thomas’ mind. The blood didn´t belong to any race existing on this planet. The chimpanzee, with twenty-four pairs of chromosomes, exhibits approximately 97% of compatibility with human DNA. The genetic material he was testing wasn´t human, and it couldn´t be from this planet. In fact the blood was really Jesus’, and by all appearances Jesus really existed. That story his father had told was beginning to make sense. But something began to intrigue Thomas: how did Jesus successfully procreate with a human woman? Was Mary Magdalene human or a hybrid - half human and half alien?

Various suppositions and theories began to crowd into Thomas’ head. He started to weep with the strong emotions he was feeling. He was the first scientist in the world to have the chance to analyze the DNA of the greatest and most famous of all beings, Jesus Christ; and to cap it all he was a member of his family! Thomas was beside himself, he couldn´t keep this information to himself, he felt he must share it with someone. He was euphoric; but he realized that the information was too dangerous, nobody must know.

Now everything made sense, the stories about Jesus, the way Mary became pregnant while still a virgin - of course it must have been by artificial insemination: hence the legend of the Virgin Mary. Jesus’ powers were explained. It was clear that he belonged to a race which was mentally very advanced, with total control over his own mind and, thereby, able to perform the “miracles” which everyone talks about.

Without a second thought, Thomas took the samples out of the microscope, recorded on a diskette the results of the blood tests and instructed the computer to delete the research he had done, as someone could come across it. He hurried to the phone, picked up and dialed the number of his father’s house.

‘Hi, at the moment we can´t come to the phone. Please leave a message and we´ll get back to you soon. Thanks,’ said his father’s voice recorded on the answering machine.

‘Dad, you´ve no idea what I´ve found out! I analyzed the blood in the cylinder and I found something sensational. It doesn´t belong to any species known on this planet. As a matter of fact the DNA of this blood has 48 chromosomes, while human blood has 46. Isn´t it fantastic? By the way, I´ve decided to try and create the clone. Call me as soon as you get this message. Bye.’

C
HAPTER 8

Brazil, 12th September 2001

Francisco and Maria were saying goodbye to their children and grandchildren. They had just buried their youngest son at the back of the house - he had died the day before in the reservoir which surrounded the couple´s farm. The farm was in the interior of the state of São Paulo, in a small town called Assis.

The boy, whose name was Davi and who was only eleven, had gone swimming in the reservoir as he often did, being an excellent swimmer. But on that day, the 11th September 2001, his father found him lifeless, lying on the bank of the reservoir. He had drowned. He usually went swimming alone, late in the afternoon, when dusk was falling. The family was distressed and hadn´t come to terms with the boy´s death.

In that part of Brazil, principally in the country areas, it was usual for the wake and the burial to take place on the family´s land. Some of the poorer families weren´t even aware of the requirement to inform the authorities of the death of a relation and to obtain a death certificate; others, in their despair, simply forgot about it.

After saying their goodbyes to the family members who had come for the wake, the couple took a bath and went to bed.

A few hours later, around two a.m., a car could be heard arriving. Maria woke up thinking that one of her sons had come back. The car stopped in front of the veranda. Two men in black suits got out and started slowly ascending the steps of the veranda. It was 12th September 2001. The men were tall and blond and they knocked at the door of the Giroto family. Maria was already in the living room. Without hesitation she went to the door, thinking it was one of her sons. When she opened the door she felt afraid because the men were so tall, and because they looked nothing like her sons. Maria´s husband, hearing sounds of movement, went to the front door with his rusty shotgun in his hands.

‘Be calm, husband, them be pastors from the church.’ Maria thought this was who they were, and that they had heard of the son’s death and come for the wake.

‘What the hell do they want at this hour?’

And then the men explained:

‘Lady, we aren´t pastors, but we´re here to talk about your son. We heard that he passed away and we´d like to offer our condolences,’ said one of the men.

‘We´re here because there is a very delicate matter we have to discuss,’ said the other man, talking quietly and surely, which gave the elderly couple confidence and they asked them in.

‘Sit down, please, gentlemen. I´ll get yer some coffee,’ said Maria with her country accent, typical of that part of Brazil.

‘Lady, that won´t be necessary, we won´t take up much of your time.’

‘Tell us then, please, how can we be of help?’

‘Lady, we´re Americans, we work for an American agency known as the CIA.’

The man showed them his badge.

‘Ah, I´ve heard of yer, you´re famous, always turning up in the movies. Yer must be very sad at what happened to those buildings, what a terrible thing, for God´s sake.’

‘Yes, lady, we´re all shocked. It was a great loss for humanity.’

‘But we´re here for another reason. My partner will explain.’

‘Lady, a very important American family is being hunted. Yesterday two members of the family were killed by very bad people. The only one of the family who survived is a boy who, as it happens, has the same name as your late son and almost the same age, just a year’s difference.’

‘But how do yer know about our son? He passed away yesterday and we ain´t even been to the registry office yet,’ said the woman with an astonished look.

‘Didn´t you call your family in Italy yesterday, to tell them? Well, we intercepted your call.’

Francisco leapt out of his chair.

‘You been snooping on us?’ the old man roared.

‘No, sir, please, calm down. All international calls are monitored for security purposes. We have software which identifies certain patterns, records them and sends them to us.’

‘Well, alright then, but just tell us what yer want. Can´t yer see we´re not up to coping with visitors? We´ve only just put our son in his grave.’

‘Right, then, as I was saying, two members of this American family were killed yesterday, and only their son survived. We need a place to hide the child. He needs a new name and a new family: if they find him he’ll be killed too. We´re here in the name of the American government to ask for your help.’

‘Yer want us to take on a child that isn´t ourn and that on top of that is being hunted? That´s not just illegal, it´s dangerous. Suppose those bad people find him here and kill us all!’ said the woman fearfully, but at the same time with compassion.

‘You won’t be taking a risk. We’ll watch you twenty-four hours a day and no one will find the boy here in Brazil. These bad people think the boy is dead too, that´s why he needs a new name and a new family.’

‘But what are we goin’ to tell our family and our friends and neighbors?’ asked the man.

‘As far as we know, only your family in Italy was told; your friends and neighbors don´t yet know your son is dead. All you have to do is not say anything more to anyone. Keep the boy hidden for a few years and no one will suspect. They´re not that different.’

‘Can we see the boy?’ asked the woman.

‘Of course! I’ll fetch him.’

The man brought David into the house. His face was all creased with the marks of the car’s upholstery and he was yawning like someone who hadn´t liked being woken like that.

When the couple saw David they felt happy and emotional.

‘Goodness me what a good-looking boy! He looks like an angel,’ said Maria, and began to weep as she remembered her own
dead son.

‘Just a moment, sir, I need to talk to me husband, I´ll be right back,’ said the old lady in a fearful tone of voice, as if she had something very important to say to him. The two of them went into the kitchen.

‘Husband, does yer remember once I told you I saw an angel?’

‘I remember, but that be some thirty years ago.’

‘And does yer remember what I told yer the angel said to me?’

Her husband’s face took on a look of amazement as he remembered how, thirty years before, his wife had woken in the middle of the night weeping bitterly, and had told him that she had seen an angel. The angel told her that one day men would come to her door and bring her a child, and that the child should stay with them and they should look after it well. Naturally none of the family believed what Maria said. Of course it had been a dream, real though it seemed to Maria. As time went by, she too became convinced that it was just a dream - after all, it was unimaginable.

‘So it weren’t a dream after all!’ exclaimed her husband, still shaken.

‘No, it weren´t. At the time I told yer it was too real to be a dream, but yer all talked me into believing it was a dream and I just kept quiet. It can´t be just coincidence. Let´s keep the boy.’

‘Alright, you´re the boss,’ said her husband, knowing that nothing he could do would make her change her mind.

They went back to the living room.

‘Alright, we’ll keep him, for sure,’ said Maria, taking David by the arm and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you, lady, we knew we could count on you.’

‘Hello, David, how yer feeling?’ asked the woman, putting her hand under David’s chin.

David looked at one of the men, not understanding.

‘Lady, he doesn´t understand your language. But in a few months he’ll be talking fluently. Don´t worry about it.’

‘David, this is your new family. Look after them well and they’ll look after you,’ said the man in English, and said goodbye to David.

‘Goodbye, lady, here are our contact numbers. If there´s anything you need, just call. And as I said, please don’t tell anyone.’

The men went back to their car, started it up and disappeared up the dirt road.

David took over Davi´s room, his documents, his clothes and everything else of his. Only they couldn’t send him to the same school, since there they would realize it wasn´t Davi. The family had to put him into a different school in another town.

David became part of the family. Only the older sons and the grandchildren knew his story and they all promised to keep the secret. The boy always insisted on being called David, and his wish was respected.

Some days after David arrived at the farm, Francisco went into town to do some shopping and pay some bills at the bank. When he looked at his bank statement he saw that five million Reals had been put into his account. Francisco couldn´t believe it and went home and told his wife. He didn´t understand: could it be that the bank had made a mistake? His wife calmed him down and said it could be to do with the men who brought David. So the man told the bank he had inherited the money, paid off his many debts and never mentioned the matter to anyone again.

A year went by. David was speaking Portuguese fluently, like a native; it had taken him less than six months to become fluent. His facility for learning the language and his above-average intelligence astonished his adoptive parents and the whole family. David started helping his father in the day-to-day running of the farm, which was a coffee plantation. At last he was safe and happy.