Voyage to Alpha Centauri: A Novel (57 page)

We talked throughout the morning and into the afternoon, by which point, my friend was finally overcome with fatigue, and I sensed it was time to leave him so that he could take some rest. We agreed to meet again in the evening. I returned to my own room, sat down on the bed, and tried to digest it all.

“We are not alone in the universe”, Paul had said that day at the tower when we first discovered evidence of intelligent life on the planet. Yes, we are not alone, and now it seems that our close encounter with an alien race is not what it appeared to be. We are like a man wandering from room to room in an empty house, turning a corner in a hallway, and suddenly seeing another man standing there, gazing back at him. And then he realizes it is a mirror and he is looking at himself.

Day 323
:

That evening, Dariush and I met at the bistro. Both of us picked at our meal, saying nothing, staring at the food, at the table top, at our own non-thoughts. By wordless agreement, we went for a walk along the concourse, back and forth, from one end of the ship to the other.

To break the silence, I asked him about the contents of the third gold codex.

“Instructions for rituals,” he solemnly replied, “dictated by their god.”

“A sacred document”, I said.

“A sacred document from hell”, he murmured.

Before we parted, he told me that he and the chief of Archaeology have reported the decryptions to DSI and also to the expedition’s archivist, who will file it in the ship’s main computer. According to the executive’s instructions, those who know about the successful breaking of the “aliens’ ” code are to keep their findings to themselves. The matter is “under further investigation”.

Day 324
:

I have felt little interest in reading the Bible since my middle teens. The only copy I ever saw in the open was the one Fray Ramon used at Mass, and it disappeared along with him sometime during the years I was away at college. My mother owned a Spanish-language edition, disguised as a cookbook, and after her death, I gave it away to a neighbor in our village. Searching through the
Kosmos
’ main computer, I discovered that there is no complete text available, only fragments quoted in the countless articles demythologizing or debunking the book.

But, as I was to learn, our ship does indeed carry copies of the Bible, all of which were smuggled on board:

I asked Dariush if he owned one. He admitted he had an edition in Persian Farsi, and another in Armenian. He showed them to me in his room. They are disguised as philological texts with fake titles on the covers.

Xue owns a Mandarin edition, disguised as a treatise on quantum mechanics.

Pagnol owns one in the French language, disguised as a compendium of “recent” (now ten years old) discoveries in microbiology.

Paul Yusupov does not have a copy, but he informed me during our late-night swimming session that he has memorized the Gospel of St. John—in Russian. I asked if he had perchance memorized the book of Genesis. Regrettably, he had not. He offered to write out a translation of John into English, warning me that it would probably be a clumsy one. I declined, explaining that I wanted to begin at the beginning.

Finally, it was Maria Kempton who came to the rescue. She owned an English-language edition, published in the year 2040 by the “bishops’ conference” (whatever that is) of Sri Lanka. Holding it reverently, she hesitated a moment, then put it into my hands.

“It’s not disguised”, I exclaimed. “How did you get it on board?”

She smiled. “Neil, you do not understand women’s purses. No man has ever got to the bottom of them.”

“I know they exist”, I shrugged. “I’ve seen them. My mother owned one. But
why
they exist is another question entirely.”

“It’s our little secret
—our
, meaning the other half of the human race. I’m afraid I’m duty-bound not to explain it to you.”

She agreed to lend me the book after extracting a solemn promise that I would guard it with my life. I’m reading it.

Day 327
:

Paul tells me that the
Kosmos
will remain in orbit around Nova for another 108 days, our stay extended to make up for the first month when we were unable to land, plus an additional month due to our projected schedule for investigating the ship.

“How is Pia?” I asked.

“Very beautiful. Very big.”

“Are people on KC deck sympathetic? Any problems?”

“Some are happy. Some are silent. They look at her belly when they see her, but I do not know what they think.”

“This is the dangerous time”, I said. “There are a lot of people in the flight crew. Not everyone is like you.”

He patted his pocket. “I know this. I am ready.”

Day 328
:

I learned from Dariush that the archives in the Temple of the Ship have all been opened, scanned, and auto-translated. His small team of linguistic experts, ten philologists and ten assistants, will be fully occupied between departure from Nova and arrival on Earth—nine very interesting years of study—and doubtless the archives will be examined by scholars for centuries to come.

Dariush said: “You realize, Neil, that several hundred thousand bronze tablets have been scanned. It is impossible to read more than a fraction of them. Thus, we selected codices primarily for the purpose of obtaining an overall chronology. We searched for phrases such as “one hundred years since the Coming”, “one thousand years”, “two thousand years”, and in this way we were able to isolate sections of text that gave us the general outline of their history. We now know that the records were written over a period of 6,900 to 7,000 years, and were archived chronologically from the front right wall beside the ship’s nose, backward to its tail, then across the rear wall of the chamber, then proceeding along the left-hand wall toward the front of the ship.”

He explained that the texts taken from this counter-clockwise route through the past reveal that the aliens’ dating system was based on the longer Nova year. For example, many documents are headed with passages such as, “ Three hundred years after the Coming, in the month of three moons” or “Eleven hundred years after arrival in the heaven in the heavens”, etc. The figures below have been adjusted to represent Earth-years. Dariush emphasized that the dates closer to our own time (within four thousand years) are the most accurate, but dates become increasingly more inexact the farther back they go. As far as we know at this point, the history of the “aliens” on this planet is roughly as follows. [Insert]:

Chronology compiled by Dr. Dariush I. Mirza

ca. 9200 years
B.P.
^a

Departure from Earth (+/- 100 years).

Uncertain

Transit time to Nova.

9160 to 9150
B.P.
(+/-)

Landing on Nova (also uncertain, estimated).

ca. 9150
B.P.
(+/-)

Naming of planet for their deity and their continent for the “beast that is sacred to the Lord of the Night-gods”.

9050 to 9000
B.P.
(+/-)

Building of first city (City 1).

Inscription of gold codex-1.

8900 to 8000
B.P.

Era of expansion and rapid population growth; establishment of City 2 (north) and City 3 (east).

8700
B.P.

First mention of declining longevity of individual lives

8000 to 7980
B.P.

Population demographics peak and begin slow decline. Social unrest. Punitive measures.

7980 to 7960*
B.P.

Building of road and causeway. *Estimated completion date.

Establishment of City 4 (south), excavation of mountain for Temple of the Ship.

Inscription of gold codex-2.

7960 to 7955
B.P.

Transportation and internment of Ship.

ca. 7955
B.P.

Institution of Temple Rites, inscription of gold codex-3.

7940 to ca. 6800
B.P.

Era of slow population recovery, renewed demographic growth, regulated sacrifices, wealth.

6800 to 6500
B.P.

Second era of gradual population decline, but still above replacement rate.

6500
B.P.

Deity demands increased number of sacrifices.

6500 to 6100
B.P.

Era of recovery, relative stability.

6100 to 5580
B.P.

Breaking of civilization into city-states, regional alliances, betrayals, minor wars.

ca. 5580
B.P.

Reimposition of continental control, one state, one religion, strictest regulation of language, culture, social behavior.

ca. 5580 to ca. 4200
B.P.

Era of stabilized demographics, civil order maintained by force, ongoing purges of all innovative corruptions of original language and culture; sustained totalitarian theocracy (with minor outbreaks of rebellion).

4200 to 4185
B.P.

A major war, followed by genocide of populace of rebellious city and its administrative region.

4185 to 3400
B.P.

Era of imposed relative stability, accompanied by slow population recovery.

3400 to 2700
B.P.

Declining demographics.

2700 to 2600
B.P.

The “gods” declare temporary reduction of human sacrifice, stimulating a century of recovery.

2600 to 2250
B.P.

Resumption of sacrifices, followed by longer, gradual decline of demographics.

2250 to 2140
B.P.

Demographics falling below replacement rate.

2140
B.P.

“Plague” first reported.

2125
B.P.

Universal plague, population decimated.

ca. 2100
B.P.

Second universal plague, massive reduction of population due to combined plague deaths and increased sacrifices demanded by the “gods”.

ca. 2064 to 2061
B.P.
(+/- 10 E-y)

Records end, the final Sealing of the Temple to protect the ship from “fires in the heavens”. Road ceases to be used (depth of soil cover and dating of human remains in temple). Deaths of last living persons of the final generation (dating of human remains, Cities 1 through 4).

In summation, they lived on this planet for approximately seven thousand Earth-years. Their civilization ended twenty-one hundred E-years ago, give or take a decade.

Day 329
:

I slept poorly and awoke in an irritable mood.

After I had knocked back my placebo in the B clinic this morning, Dr. Nagakawa asked me, “Do you like art, Dr. Hoyos?”

“Not really”, I mumbled, wondering if he were going to mess with my cover.

“You really must see Hokusai”, he went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “There is an excellent print on our very own deck B, precisely three alcoves forward of the Asian restaurant.”

“I can never figure out the front end from the back end.”

“I do recommend you take a look at it. Very soothing for the nervous system. If you wish, I could show it to you when I am off duty at 1700 hours. Would you like to see it?”

“Okay”, I murmured, not enthusiastic. Doubtless he would introduce me to something zennish like a drop of water falling into a placid pool of water, or the sound of one hand clapping. Just what I didn’t need.

Promptly at 5:05, I stationed myself at the entrance of the Asian restaurant, and a few minutes later, Nagakawa came serenely walking down the concourse. Without saying a word, he bestowed an obscure look upon me and led me to an alcove farther along the route.

Inside, I saw an exquisitely oriental image of a gigantic ocean wave about to crash down on slender, open-topped boats filled with Japanese fishermen.

“This isn’t soothing my nervous system”, I said.

“Its title is
Tsunami
.”

I nodded to affirm that I got it. The image had caught my attention, and I didn’t want to clutter the experience with chatter.

As I stood there absorbing it, he mumbled something in Japanese that sounded like
genshy back oo dam
.

“Pardon me?” I asked.

In reply, he handed me a little slip of paper. “Good-bye, Dr. Hoyos.” And he was gone.

After another deep look at the print, I sighed and read the slip of paper.

He had written:

     
Waga yado to

     
iu bakari de mo

     
suzushisa yo

     “Our home”

     in these words

     already freshness

—Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828)

What on earth is this about? What’s Nagakawa trying to tell me? Let’s go home, but let’s pass through a gorgeous tsunami to get there? Life is dangerous but beautiful? Or is it, Life is beautiful but dangerous?

On the way home, I decided to make a flying visit to a library computer terminal. There I accessed an omni-translation program, keyed Japanese to English, and typed
genshy back oo dam
. No results. Then I tried variations on the phonetics, and suddenly there appeared on the screen:

Genshi bakudan
: “Original Child Bomb”.

No explanation. Just words dangling in space. At first, I thought it was a meaningless fluke. Of course, as a physicist and a neighbor of Alamogordo and Los Alamos, I knew the phrase very well. And then I wondered if it wasn’t a fluke after all. If not, why had the good doctor mumbled it in that place at that moment? I deaccessed and returned to my room.

Is the whole world going cryptic on me? It’s hard enough figuring out the true history of the universe, and now I must deal with the true history of late civilization, not to mention the society I’ve been living in for the past ten years. I thought the ship was mainly populated by scientists. Now I find it’s populated by apostles of art and religion. And they all—all of them—keep handing me documents. Why do they do it?