Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (21 page)

“Thank you,” said Enosh.

“And despite everything, it might
not necessarily be that way.” He noisily gulped his boiling tea and
continued. “Despite the sanctity of their common goal, individual
Gnostics still compete for prestige and become involved in
intrigues. The prestige stems from a Gnostic's piety and devotion
to the holy cause. A Gnostic's value rises with his seniority, that
is, if he was either adopted at a young age or if he is a
descendant of the original Gnosis. His prestige increases if he is
close to someone well known, someone with seniority and lineage.”
He blew several clouds of smoke and continued. “Another thing that
stands out in their internal struggles is the tendency towards
conspiracies and subterfuge. Yaldabaoth's subversion of Ishtar is
central to the Gnostic myth. Contrary to the instructions of his
mother Ishtar, Yaldabaoth fashioned man from a lump of raw material
and blew life into him. I assume you are proficient in Gnostic
mythology.”

Diotima nodded.

“Adamas' subversion of Orpheus is
no coincidence. Orpheus discovered that hidden within every minute
particle are hidden universes, and that there is a constant ratio
between the smallest particle and the universe that contains it.
This formula has physical and geometrical applications. Adamas
stole the formula for An, the creation constant. This all fits very
well with the Gnostics' tradition of subterfuge. The Gnosis was
founded on the basis of the original, mythological and historical
subversion, and that's why it's so critical to understand this: for
the Gnostics, subversion is not merely a crack in the perfect
picture; the crack is an inseparable part of the picture.”

“We have some information and we
would like to hear your opinion on it,” said Diotima.

“Please.” Sin listened
attentively.

Diotima recognized that the man was
endowed with the same rare wisdom reserved for those who are
already prepared to leave this life yet remain living. She supposed
that his experiences enabled him to discern between important and
unimportant. She told him about Terry, one of the select secret
agents of the Atheistic intelligence service. Terry was sent as an
agent to Earth and had become a supplier of communication equipment
to the Gnostics. He sold them communication devices as well as
wired and wireless equipment. The equipment was of good quality and
priced cheaply, and as an additional service, Terry wired some of
their systems with eavesdropping devices. Terry reported directly
to Dust's military chief of general staff, Bruno, who reported to
Diotima.

Bruno notified her that the
Gnostic's module would be ready within three years’ time, and
Diotima decided of her own accord to narrow the safety window to a
year. Bruno crosschecked the information about the module with
additional informers on the Gnostic fringe. Finally, she asked Sin
his opinion of the veracity of the information.

After thinking about it, he
answered. “The information sounds very convincing, and yet, the
motivation and talent of the Gnostics cannot be exaggerated. Their
cunning is not strictly reserved for their overt enemies. As I
said, it is possible that this is partial or even erroneous
information, a result of internal rivalries. It's possible that the
true information is concealed even from the very Gnostics who are
the source of your information.”

“What are the rivalries about,”
inquired Enosh, “if not for the success of the common goal?”

“I don't think you're that
innocent, Enosh,” Sin laughed openly.

Enosh smiled.

“Actually, the competition is over
the identity of the Redeemer,” explained Sin. “According to Gnostic
tradition, the Redeemer is the leader who is destined to liberate
the Gnostics, and so too the entire world. He is the one who will
extract the light from the shell, the sanctity of the holy spark
from the impure material existence. That's where the myth ends.
Anyone who does not believe, or who has ceased believing in the
Gnosis as I have, understands the significance of the Redeemer as a
political title. The Redeemer will garner enough power to become
the leader, thanks to his position in the army hierarchy, his
seniority, his lineage and his ability to craft subterfuge and
endure in the face of subversion.”

“So the Redeemer is a sort of
spiritual and political leader?” offered Enosh.

“Yes. A combination of specific
conditions allows his believers to integrate him within the hero
myth. Only then will he receive validation of his position from the
Gods. Everything will happen when tested in the moment of
crisis.”

“They are pushing themselves into a
crisis,” Diotima said worriedly.

“And we need to be involved with
them in order to try and influence the direction in which the
crisis will evolve,” added Enosh.

“There is another thing that might
concretize the position of the Redeemer,” Sin added. He cleared the
table, folded the tablecloth and walked the slow amble of an old
man over to the corner of the room. After rummaging around in a
closet, he withdrew a number of boxes and pieces of clothing,
placing them on the carpet. The crackling of the fire in the
fireplace mingled with the whistling of the wind outside the window
and the drumming of the rain on the roof. Sin tightened the scarf
around his neck and continued searching. Finally, he gingerly
removed a package wrapped in coarsely woven brown material. He
handled it gently, almost as if it were holy. He pressed the parcel
against his body and made his way back to the crate that served as
a table. He placed the parcel on the crate. Diotima and Enosh
watched the old man's emaciated fingers as they untied the knots.
Under the folds of the material peeked a sheet of paper and a
bundle of linen fibers. From within the bundle, Sin removed a dry
and scorched clay tablet, about the size of a man's palm, at the
top of which was a hole, bearing an inscription in cuneiform
script.

“This is Atar's letter,” said Sin
regarding the yellowing sheet of paper as he handed it to
Enosh.

“And that's the Uruk Tablet!”
gasped Diotima in astonishment.

“That's right,” said Sin
softly.

“It really exists!”

Sin nodded. Enosh looked at them
questioningly.

“This is the Uruk Tablet. Some call
it the Uruk Amulet or the Tablet of the Redeemer. It was kept in
the temple in the Uruk compound. The module was stored in the same
temple. I took it before the explosion. Because I am no longer
Gnostic, and as far as they're concerned, I am a condemned man
whose name has been obliterated, it has no spiritual meaning to me.
And yet it carries great sentimental value. This is all that
remains of my life, my past on Earth".

“It also has great historical
significance,” added Diotima. “This was one of the earliest tablets
that were plundered from the Mesopotamian museum in Iraq at the end
of the previous millennium. It bears the most ancient alphabetic
writing ever discovered. The Uruk Tablet was regarded by the
Gnostics as an ancient Gnostic document.”

“Why is it important to the
Gnostics?” asked Enosh.

“Because the Gnostics view
themselves as descendants of the oldest civilization in history,
the Sumerian civilization,” replied Sin.

“That is correct. Archaeologists
agree that the tablet is from the era of Meskiagasher's kingdom,”
continued Diotima.

“Who?” asked Enosh.

“Meskiagasher was one of the first
postdiluvian kings of Uruk. There are some who claim that he was
the founder of Uruk. Meskiagasher's son, Enmerkar, is the
mythological Nimrod, who appears in the Old Testament, better known
by his Babylonian name, Gilgamesh,” Diotima said with restrained
enthusiasm.

The old man began to wrap the
tablet back in the bundle of linen. Enosh returned the yellowed
paper to him. He wrapped them both in the material.

“Take them with you.” He tied the
parcel and placed it in Diotima's hands. She clutched it to herself
anxiously, as if it were a baby.

“I wish you luck. You'd better be
on your way. It would not be wise to get lost in the storm at night
in the mountains. I just ask one thing from you.” His tone grew
grave.

“Whatever you ask,” assured
Diotima.

“Speak to Filan. I don't have many
years or even days left. I don't want to die here in this jail,” he
said sorrowfully.

“I'll do my best,” promised
Diotima.

“I appreciate your efforts,” Sin
replied, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“How do you manage to stay happy in
such isolation?” asked Enosh with the same curiosity bordering on
intrusiveness that is typical of consciousness experts.

“The heart has no wrinkles,” said
Sin, looking toward the room where his wife was. “She is my
joy.”

Enosh and Diotima thanked him
profusely for his advice and for the Uruk Tablet as well as Simone
for the delicious meal and the fragrant tea. They followed him to
the gate. A moment before they departed, Simone hurried to the gate
after them with a bundle of herbs in her hands.

“Take these. The tea is made from
mountain herbs.”

They thanked them both and went on
their way.

“A message has arrived from
President Filan, Madam Minister,” the driver of the hovercraft
informed her.

“It was with a heavy heart that I
agreed to take on the position of minister of defense after you
assured me that I would be granted full freedom to utilize my
knowledge as a deviser of cultures in order to bridge the gaps
between the civilizations. Isn't that right?”

“That is true,” replied Filan with
a warm, calm artificial smile, his grey eyes settling above her
head.

“You declared that I would have
full freedom of operation in order to minimize confrontation and
promote discourse between the main civilizations, with a goal
toward peace,” Diotima carried on angrily.

“I must say that your great talent
is clear and immeasurable,” he flattered her.

“Despite the great danger involved,
you approved an intelligence mission to obtain a Pythagorean single
passenger ship. You did all of this, despite your revulsion with
us, in order to recruit the Socratics to the mission and send their
representative to Samos.”

“That is true, Diotima.” His wide
nostrils flared and thick eyebrows quivered, betraying his lie.
“But things have changed. I'm afraid I can no longer grant your
request. After contemplating it and making consultations, I have
reached the conclusion that while there is indeed a threat to the
Pythagoreans, there is no danger for the galaxy. It is not our job
to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the Pythagorean
mission.”

Filan rose to his feet and stood
over the seated Diotima in order to underscore his superiority.
Diotima did not believe a word of it. She understood the real
reason for the change in Filan's stance. 'He secretly wants to
steal the processor from the Pythagoreans in the shadow of the
coming events. He has a year to do this, but Enosh's mission would
thwart his scheme.' She replied, “I have no intention of arguing
with you because I know your decision is final. Therefore, I hereby
resign from my position.”

Filan was surprised; he had not
expected that.

“I do not accept your resignation.”
He returned to the chair behind the large desk.

“I don't need your approval; from
this moment forth I am no longer minister of defense and I am not
committed to the confidentiality derived therein. I am willing to
pay the personal price as long as I know that I did my best to save
the galaxy," said Diotima coldly and indifferently. “This
conversation is being recorded and instantaneously transmitted to
my personal assistant. Tomorrow there will be quotes from it all
over the audiovisual media throughout Dust. On the morning news
you'll be able to hear about President Filan who kidnapped Sin,
holding him captive for years, while barring humanity from the
opportunity to defend itself against the obliteration of the
galaxy. It will also be reported that in his private bank account,
Filan is holding enormous sums of money apparently received from
capitalists on Dust in exchange for sharing access to the
Pythagorean processor.”

“My dear Diotima…” he tried to stop
her.

“Former Minister of Defense.”

“Diotima, Minister of Defense,” he
tried again as beads of sweat broke out above his upper lip, “we
have three more years to find a solution to this problem. Why are
you rushing to ruin your career?”

She began walking towards the
door.

“Wait!” he called to her.

She did not turn around.

“Wait, give me a chance to
reconsider,” he shouted towards her.

Diotima turned around, removed a
document from her pocket and placed it on the desk.

“This document gives me full
authority to continue with the plans and make all decisions
independently, at every stage, without approval from you. Sign
here!” she commanded, her blazing green eyes fixed on him. He
looked at her in silence and finally lowered his gaze.

“I know you well enough to know
what you're thinking.”

“And what would that be?” he
asked.

“That the morning headlines will
announce the untimely death of the Minister of Defense.”

“Diotima, now you've gone too far.
Me?” he asked with unnatural bewilderment and insult. “I couldn't
even imagine something like that.”

“That's right. Especially not when
copies of this conversation are being saved by my assistant as we
speak,” she said, handing him the pen.

“Don't forget to sign here too,”
she said, placing a second document in front of him.

“And what is this?” he asked
angrily.

“Something you should have done a
long time ago. This is an order for Sin's release.”

Enosh strolled slowly through the
garden while waiting for his meeting with Diotima. He had been
tense since the moment she had recruited him for this mission. He
crossed a small carved wooden bridge over a narrow rushing brook
whose banks were adorned with bushes and reeds. Afterward he passed
by trees laden with fruit in of a plethora of different colors and
clouds of sweet-scented blossoms. The strong smell of the tree sap
and the lush scent of the ripe fruit tickled his nose. He crossed a
gate covered in ivy with tiny white flowers descending from it,
full of honeybees, and continued on to the open, stone-paved
square.