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The Movement was a critical moment in human history as it led to the Great Enlightenment, an effort which ripped power from the steely clutches of the tyrants overseeing Earth's final Modern Dark Age. History books described a monumental effort by an enslaved population struggling against the backwards teachings of an eons-old book, fighting the pain of jagged binding collars to bring down a corrupt and powerful theocracy despite overwhelming odds and ushering in an age of logical thought and education. Millions were thought to have perished in the wars but as yet, not a bone had been found.
This ground, dug some fifteen feet below the valley floor, was thought to have been the site of the resistance headquarters and later, after victory, it was supposed to have become a museum housing all the technology from earlier ages, successfully hidden from repeated theocratic destruction sweeps. Many pieces had been found so far; most were smoothly rounded boxes of various palm-sized shapes encased in that same unbreakable amber material, and until a method could be discovered for removing them safely from it, none had been examined. Eager anticipation was pervasive.
Leland waved his hand rapidly, using the circular 'Found Something!' signal that he had been taught. Would this be the sought-after solution, or just another impenetrable secret that would end up covered, deep and dusty, on some remote warehouse shelf? The lead archaeologist Ginther hurried over, peering at the cylinder through oversized spectacles. With a smile he communicated the news-- this piece was different! Not a small box, and not sealed in amber! A crowd of volunteers stopped working and gathered to watch the unveiling.
Ginther clapped him on the shoulder, encouragingly. Leland smiled back and returned to uncovering the cylinder. Soon the ends were in full view; he outlined top and bottom with the brush, revealing ever more circumference. Ginther motioned to a few volunteers, who took up either side of the artifact, ready for its inevitable release. Leland brushed, quickly and carefully, avoiding any contact with the piece. Soon he had crested the cylinder's top arc; Ginther and the volunteers applied gentle downward pressure as Leland swept, then blew away the rear dust with a bubble syringe. Brush, brush, blow; brush brush blow.
The artifact released; with the gentlest of turns, it fell into their waiting hands. It was surprisingly light, completely cylindrical. They walked it over to a transport, which moved it smoothly to the pattern establishment area, depositing it gently into a waiting tray. Moments later, information about its every nuance began appearing, cross referenced with every one of the other remnants from the dig. A match would indicate a high probability that any pieces somehow belonged together.
There was a match! The Discoveries clerk, Mout, ran into the dim warehouse and returned minutes later with the potential mate; Leland looked closely in the man's hand and was surprised to see the metal sliver he had uncovered months earlier! He was about to identify it when a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him; Ginther shook his head slightly and returned to watching history being made, as did Leland.
Mout now placed the cylinder in the observation chamber. All sides were magnified and brightened; he began the search with many eyes upon him. Beginning at one end, he turned the cylinder over and over, scrutinizing every bit, moving slowly towards the other. Exactly halfway through his search, he stopped. Something was different. In the otherwise featureless cylinder's face was a mark, a kind of squiggly line, of a smooth and hard material different than the cylinder. Leland thought it looked like the hardened honey. Mout brought the encased metal sliver up for inspection, and held it up to to magnifier, turning it slowly.
"Aha!" He beamed with pride of discovery, pointing the sliver directly at the magnifier. Leland saw it too but was denied first announcement when Mout said, "this edge pattern matches the crooked line, in reverse! I think it fits in there!" and he pressed the sliver's end onto the line. It did not slide in.
But something remarkable did happen. A square section of the artifact, several inches on a side, with the crooked line at its center, glowed a pale blue! Symbols appeared within the blue field that were finely crafted and neatly placed, nine in all; five on top and four below. Leland recognized the symbols as language phonemes from the culture but had no idea what it meant. Ginther had more experience with the language and offered a translation. "This top one is a directive. It says 'Enter'."
"Enter? Enter here? How can we enter?" Mout protested. "It's too small! And, there is no way in!"
"The second word," Ginther continued, somewhat irked, "is 'Code'. Enter Code." He looked at the audience of intrigued faces and asked, "Does anybody know what that could possibly mean?" He was met with vacant stares. Mout ran back to the warehouse.
One man offered, "Could it be 'cold'? Enter cold?"
Ginther thought seriously. "Hmm. I don't see how we could 'enter cold'. You mean chill it and try it again?"
"Maybe."
"No, the words would likely not be similar in this language the way they are in ours. Good try, er..."
"Safton."
"Good try, Safton. Anybody else?"
An older woman spoke up. "Lynet. Could a 'code' be something we have to give it? Like a food?"
Ginther's lips fought to hide the smile. "You think the cylinder might be hungry, Lynet?"
Seriously she responded, "Well, it's spent a lot of years underground, right?"
"But it isn't alive."
"But doesn't the blue glow mean life? We have insects and animals that glow."
"Well, yes, but..." the lead archaeologist searched for the appropriate phrasing but was interrupted by the again-returning Mout, out of breath and lugging a large tome.
"A dictionary. It was found on a shelf in a sealed, airtight stone room. It's suffered no degradation at all!" He brought it to Ginther, who flipped through the pages and eventually landed on the correct word, then read for a long time, silently. Restless murmurings had begun when he held up his hand; it became quiet again. He began to read aloud.
"A 'Code' is a series of symbols designed to keep access of something limited to the holders of the code. It works by unlocking an enclosure containing the information when the correct code is input." Ginther whispered to Mout, "Unlocking? What does that mean?"
"Look it up. You're using a dictionary."
"Oh, of course." Moments later he said, "Oh! Unlocking. Opening with a key or some other mechanism to make what is on the other side of it accessible." He sighed. "And what's a key? This could take awhile." He looked up the new word and straightened. "Well, look at this! There's a picture of a key in this book... and it looks the same as this metal sliver!" He held up the artifact, but then scowled. "This is a conundrum! We need a 'code' which is like a 'key' to 'unlock' this cylinder... but we tried unlocking the cylinder before... and the key didn't work!"
Leland excused his way to the artifacts. He looked at the blue screen and noticed something at the bottom: a series of five evenly dashed segments in a line, evenly spaced, parallel to the bottom of the screen. Additionally, there was one finer line over the leftmost segment, perpendicular to it, disappearing regularly and then reappearing moments later, over and over. He stared at it for a long time, transfixed, but then suddenly remembered something and shouted, "I have it!"
Ginther started and looked up from the dictionary, which had begun to occupy a lot of his time. "What do you have, Leland?"
"The code! I have the code!" He was almost hopping now, his toes flexing inside his boots.
"You do?"
"Yes!"
"What is it?"
"Not what, where! It's in the warehouse! It's the stone object I found with the... the key! The object had five symbols on it! I bet they will work!"
Enthusiastically Ginther turned to instruct the clerk, but Mout had already left, this time returning much more quickly. He was holding the small stone and placed it in the center of the blue field, over the jagged line. The tent held its collective breath.
Nothing happened. He turned it several times, but there was no change. Leland had an idea and asked, "Permit me?" Ginther nodded and Mout handed Leland the stone.
Leland inspected it, turned it in a way he felt was face up, and placed it onto the first dash segment. His finger brushed against the field, over the leftmost line. A symbol appeared, replacing the dash! There were shouts of surprise. Leland noticed the symbol was not the same as the first one on the stone. Experimentally, he touched the screen with his finger again... and the symbol changed! But it still wasn't the same, so he pressed again. And again. He worried that he might have mistaken the symbol when, with his next press, it showed up! It was a pair of piled circles; the upper one slightly smaller than the bottom. But it wasn't exact; he looked closely and determined it was upside down from the symbol on the stone. In a flash of inspiration he realized it was the stone which was upside down and flipped it. Now there was an entirely different symbol on the left. Leland was fearful that he had already passed it, but kept pressing anyway. Then he noticed the first symbol come up again, and with relief he knew that the designer of this pad had wisely allowed the symbols to cycle. He found the mark and stopped.
Applause broke out and Leland grinned. He pressed the second dash and the first symbol changed to red. He was not concerned, and kept pressing until he saw the correct second symbol; then he began the third. Now the second turned red, joining the first. At the fifth symbol he stopped and said, "Ginther, this is your dig. You must be the one to enter the last symbol."
No sooner did he pull his hand back than the screen went dark. However, the picture glowed brightly beneath the key, and as they watched a change began to occur. The honey was melting! But rather than pool under the key the amber goo simply disappeared. In a moment it was gone. Then the cylinder became inert, and dark.
Ginther looked around as if searching for a next step, and Leland supplied one. "Pick up the key." Heeding his advice Ginther did just that, holding it up in the air. Everyone's eyes were trained on the gleaming metal; all except for Leland, who had only wanted to see the crooked line beneath it. Just as he had suspected, it was now a slot, no amber in the way. He tugged on the older man's sleeve and pointed. "Hm? Hm?"
Ginther slid the key in without a moment's hesitation. Nothing. "What next, Leland?"
Leland looked closely at the point of entry and thought he could see a fine circular seam circumnavigate the keyway. Basic engineering kicked in and he said, "Try turning the key."
Ginther did. A small click was heard from inside the cylinder... and then the end swiveled open with a hiss of air! A roar of victory came from the tent which could be heard all throughout the valley, and Leland's shoulders were gratefully thumped by a dozen hands. He blushed shyly and nodded.
Light was trained into the cylinder's opening gloom and after checking for explosive traps (one had been found, once, may the volunteer rest in peace), Ginther reached in and pulled out a large thick envelope, crisp and crackling. It could have been packed away yesterday and not thousands of years ago, so pristine was the paper.
Inside the envelope was another, smaller envelope, and a smoothly rounded box of a palm-sized shape about as thick as a hand, much like so many others which had been found at this site, but with one important difference: It was not covered in amber, which meant that its secrets were close to being revealed. So far, the key was the only amber which had ever been removed, and they had as yet no idea how that had been accomplished. Had it been the brightly glowing light? Whatever the mechanism, his was a fantastic find, and quite possibly held the answers they had been searching for! Leland was ecstatic... if it were true, his name would be forever linked to this discovery. He could not have felt more proud.
Ginther opened the smaller envelope and pulled out a notebook of sorts; two hardbound covers which, when opened, sprang forth a thick sheath of handwritten pages. On top of the front page was a heading. Ginther could make it out and translated: "To the Future Inhabitants of Earth."
"That's us!" One excited voice stated the obvious, and amused titters ran through the tent.
Ginther laughed with the rest and then announced, "And with that comment we can see how tired we've all become. I think it's time to head back to our encampment, have a good meal and get some rest. We'll begin anew in the morning." Disappointed groans mixed with hungry banter and the crowd thinned quickly. Ginther went back to his tent, notebook in hand, to begin the arduous process of translation. Before he started there was a rustle at the tent flap. "Yes?"
Leland stuck his head in. "I was wondering if I could stay with you as you work."
Ginther shook his head. "Thanks, but this is really the kind of work I prefer to do alone."
"I actually have a little experience with this language. I took several courses at university preparing for this dig."
"Well, that's commendable, but still..."
"Ginther, please. It was my discovery and I had a lot to do with the cylinder even being open. I won't make a sound, I promise. It would be the highest of honors for me."
Gither mumbled, "More like the highest of horrors."
"What was that, sir? I didn't hear you."
The older man sighed. "I seriously doubt that it would... but if I can't dissuade you, then please, have a seat." He looked seriously at Leland and finished, "But don't blame me if the outcome is not what you anticipated."
"I don't see how that could be possible, Ginther. Thanks for letting me do this."
"Don't thank me."
Leland had a question. "Shouldn't we also have brought the black box along?"
"Experience has taught me that the box will be useless until it feels the morning sun. Another box like this was discovered in a cave years ago, and it sprang to life quite by accident when a ray of light coming through a window played across it."
"Solar powered?"
"Yes."
"Even back then?" Leland mused. But Ginther was already poring over the first page; soon, he began reciting:
To the Future Inhabitants of Earth:
I, the last free man of my age, have taken the solemn duty to leave you this record, hidden beneath the soil, as a factual rendering of the events of this time. Regardless of what your history books may now say, know that what you are about to read has been witnessed by my eyes. As further evidence I leave you a device which displays moving images, a copy of events as they unfolded. It is not magical; it is simply a product of science. Leave it in the sun to grow strong, then press the light which appears when the device is ready. It will not hurt you. But first read this accounting.
"Who did he think would find this... cave men?" Ginther chuckled. "'It is not magical'... that is funny! But see what I mean about the box?"
"I do. So I guess it's like a holoengrammatic emitter?"
"Not nearly as advanced, Leland. We've had a few millennia to improve on the old technology, after all. Still, it will give us a fantastic view of history. Early archaeologists have had to piece together entire civilizations from just a few chunks of broken pottery. We have it easy." He fell silent for a few minutes and Leland thought it best not to disturb the man's concentration. Soon though, Ginther began reading, smoothly, uninterrupted, as if channeling the man on those old pages:
It was not so long ago that humanity was on its way to becoming sophisticated and mature; advanced in every area of science, technology, the arts and humanities. Somehow though, religious zealotry gained a foothold and spread its influence worldwide, until every major country was ruled by one overriding theocratic body, the Government Church. Books were burned, education was criminalized, science stagnated and its practitioners were rounded up for being 'heretics of nature' and jailed, or much worse. The world is now in a civilization-killing Dark Age much like the one which shut down Europe for 800 years, reinforced by the schizophrenic application of forced prayer, and the retained technology of televised evangelism and careful Orwellian scrutiny. All citizens are forced to wear a steel collar that is painfully welded around the neck as a method of control and torture. All of humanity is opressed, as slaves in the military or the mines, in the fields or the manufacturing plants, while the young fertile women are impregnated by decree.
One morning words were found in 50 foot letters burned into the lawn at the unparalleled World Vatica Church, saying cryptically "Judgement Is Coming" with a date one year hence. Nobody witnessed how the letters had been formed; guards reported to the Church Elders on seeing but not hearing a series of lightning flashes, bright and long, occur during the shadow of night. When their eyes had readjusted the words were present, still smoldering.
The lawn was quickly uprooted before sunrise and all knowledge of this event was hurriedly covered up. The guards disappeared, never to be seen again. The ten Elders were certain down to a man that they had been contacted by God and that the end times were near. They made preparations to transition themselves into the next world, preparing their trunks of gold and fine linens and feeding their sacrificial virgins for the trip, but kept their actions secret. No point in alerting a downtrodden enslaved people that their evil church, which had strayed far from its biblical teachings, planned on leaving them all behind to suffer in the fires of destruction. Pain collars or not, there were just too many of them. Best to leave them in blissful ignorance.
But there was one person outside of the church who knew the world's fate, though. He was a heretic, a practicing scientist in deep hiding, a keeper of the flame. The last of his kind that had remained underground for centuries, he was now the sole curator of a well protected and vast underground bunker bursting with the final advances of civilization, saved from theocratic cleansing by ignorance or sheer luck, a regime which descended like an iron fist to pulverize any human knowledge which did not further their cause. He was the last hope for restoring the world to its former glory. He knew what the cryptic lawn message meant... and he also knew in advance that it would happen.
Meanwhile the Elders, who had wisely not destroyed all modern technology, directed their manufacturing plants to build formidable telescopes that reached deep into the night to warn of God's arrival, and terrible weapons of cruel design yielding awesome power should He not wish to admit the Elders into Heaven. These they distributed and pointed into the night sky all over the globe, like the buzz-cut hairs of a petrified field general.
Despite these preparations and unfortunately for the Elders, messages from above continued unabated, burned into the ground at strategic locations near large population centers, guaranteeing worldwide knowledge of coming events. 'Arriving Soon', 'Prepare Yourselves', 'Your Fate Is Nigh' and other frightening predictions blanketed the globe for a year, each accompanied by the date and time stamp '6/6/2666, 6am'. The people grew nervous and amassed at the gates of Vatica Churches worldwide, fearful of the reprisal coming from an irate and vengeful God. Undeterred, the powerful Elders and their army of indentured soldiers pointed weapons at the public, who were driven back into to their simple mud homes, preferring subjugation to a painful death, yet quaking over the expected eternity of torture.
Meanwhile, the scientist worked busily, manning machinery and continuing preparations.
The day the world feared arrived at last; humanity held its collective breath, awaiting the crushing hand of God to smite them mightily. At dawn the sun rose to a blue sky, but soon that sky filled with thick clouds that formed out of nothing, deep iron-grey billows with angry edges that hung low, pregnant and threatening; oily black clouds which obscured the telescope's vision and made useless the missiles' targeting systems. The Elders were blind, and feared for their lives.
And then the mighty sound came. Softly at first, as if arriving from some vast distance, the vibration soon became deep and throbbing, a drumbeat against cotton skins, a steadily approaching locomotive, swelling until it was all which could be heard. Televisions were drowned out in the throb; conversations were hopeless and the physically driving thump-thump-thump made it impossible to maneuver or do anything besides hold on for pitiful life. Then the thumps slowed, like a helicopter's dying whine... a moment apart, then a second; then ten. There it remained for seconds; minutes. Then, in between the slamming pounds a deep, resonant voice begun, heard round the world in the global language of the church and therefore understood by all. In the smudged pitch blackness it began:
"We are disappointed. You have been led astray. Your glorious drive to world enlightenment has been curtailed by the selfish desires of a greedy few, who would gladly doom the world for five more minutes of luxury. It may be easy to corral the masses, at first, with soft spoken lies and bright sparkling promises... but ask yourselves if the life you lead now is the one you would choose for yourselves. If the answer is 'no', remember it is within your ability to be the catalyst for change.
"Now power is being held by liars and thieves that think themselves gods, who maintain their power with the threat of pain, imprisonment and death. They keep you at the edge of despair and use you as slaves. Your distant parents could choose their own paths and make of their lives what they would... but you are not able even to choose to turn your televising devices off.
"They have stolen your lives from you, and they have done so without fear. They say they know how this world was formed, and by whom... and they claim to communicate with this creator in order to direct all your paths towards a glorious future. But this statement is a baldfaced lie. They do not know anything. They cannot speak to the creator, and they have no power that you did not give to them."
The Elders heard enough, and reacted as violent oppressors often do-- they attacked with all the power at their disposal. The violent warheads tucked into missile heads flicked into life; countdowns began. One by one they lifted skyward, filled with the aggression and ego of certainty; one by one they punched resolutely into the inky clouds... and one by one they disappeared from existence, their payloads unexploded, with nary a poof of protest. Eyes wide and conviction crushed, church leaders awaited their doom with tearful tremors as the enormous voice continued:
"Their powerful weapons you just saw being launched, themselves a holdout from the Big Destruction, have had no effect on today's outcome. They have now been rendered back into the molecules from which they were derived. The actions of your oppressors are selfish and criminal; their leaders will be severely punished. Today is the day to set you back on the path of progress and intellectual enlightenment. You cannot help yourselves do this if you are enslaved and tyrranized.
"To that end, action will soon commence. There will be no more weaponry on Earth-- it will all be eradicated. Pay close attention, those who serve the Elders. All soldiers carrying weapons and ammunition, put them into a pile and back far away. Do not retain any individual weapons. All soldiers manning larger weaponry, leave the area immediately. All plants making weapons must be emptied of all workers. Do this now. You have five minutes."
The thumping sped up until they came one second apart, and raised pitch to sound like a ticking clock. Across the globe soldiers stood confused; aware of their standing orders not to relinquish their weapons, but also faced with a power unlike any they had seen before, they were frozen in fear. Despite shouts coming through walkie talkies to ignore the mega voice, that worldwide throbbing tick countdown gave most soldiers the push they needed to toss anything remotely weaponlike into a pile-- guns, knives, pepper spray, batons, keys, bottles, belts, shoelaces... anything-- and bolt in the other direction.
Now the sound again changed, this time into a screaming siren, louder with each tick until the entire world had to cover their ears. Then, silence. Suddenly, every weapon in piles all over the globe stood at attention as if grabbed by an invisible magnet from above. A vibrating buzz like a hive of bees welled up within each pile, around each large weapon, through each factory. A mist began swirling at the buzz, around and around, faster and wider, obscuring the items within.
Several soldiers were loyal, however, and refused to relinquish their arms. When the buzzing began they looked about wildly. When the swirling cloud surrounded their weapons (and them) they began to scream, bloodcurdling and shrill... but soon fell silent.
The clouds grew thick, tall and wide, a deep brownish grey. People too close were slammed with dust and stumbled backwards, blood welling from tiny holes puncturing their skin. They watched the weapons being dismantled back to ever smaller component molecules, molecules which were being flung at high velocity around the cloud like a storm of pepper.
Then came an enormous 'pop' which sounded as though a blimp-sized balloon had burst, echoing up to the clouds and back, and the whirling dust shot skyward, spread outwards and merged with the low oily clouds. The piles of weaponry were now gone, missile launch pads devoid of even the slightest particle. The ground had been polished into smooth circles. Every weapon and machine was gone. Not a stone from any of the factory walls survived. Neither did even an atom of the few loyal soldiers that had retained their weapons... they had been dismantled as well. Friends sniffed sorrow. The booming voice returned.
"The Elders will now gather on the Church Vatica central dais."
Assembling before automated cameras on the platform, urged in place by a throng of glowering, silent citizens, the Elders filtered onto the Church Vatica platform, sitting heavily in their arc of thrones, heads bowed and bodies slumped, defeat telegraphing across their faces. Undeterred, the Great Lead Elder now asserted his command and approached the raised speaking mound. In typical Saintly fashion, with a confident scowl, he spread his hands and took a breath to speak... and disappeared in a flash of cruel lightning, a wisp of smoke all that remained. Moments later the other Elders received the same fate, shock to a man splashed across their faces, and they too dissolved into nothingness, thrones cleaved and smoking.
Mouths gaping, television viewers worldwide tried to make sense of the violent images, tried to explain it to their confused children. But many more were smiling, reacting to the sudden notion of freedom and the bliss of gleeful unencumbrance. The booming voice began again.
"Good riddance. Soldiers, put on your street clothes and return to your families. Jailers, release all prisoners. The rest of you, tear down all signs honoring the Elders and their beliefs. A bonfire in the center of every town will make a fitting re-entry into your lives of freedom. Celebrate with your neighbors and friends."With this final act we return you to your world before theocracy. Soon a plan will emerge-- your plan-- for returning to, and surpassing, your former glory. We leave you with one gift so that future generations will know what has happened here on this day."
Televisions switched at once to a view of Elder Rock, the world's largest religious icon. Visible for 600 miles were enormous busts of a thousand holy Elders through time, a thousand holy oppressors of the people, emblazoned on a perfectly cleaved mountain one mile tall. It was an impressive feat of man that had claimed the lives of thousands of enslaved stonemasons in the hundred years of its making.
Abruptly a glaring white light seared the picture on every television screen; nothing at all could be made out. When the dazzle diminished, all the world could see that the gargantuan stone monument had been scrubbed free of iconic carvings and was now smooth as glass! Not a crooked face remained, not an evil leer, not a glaring eye. It was a literal blank slate.
As quickly as they had come, the clouds now dissolved into blue skies. Popping into insubstantiality, not a trace of them could be seen. The sun warmed the ground and bathed Elder Mountain in a loving caress. As it did, a thin blue-white line of bright light shot through the sky, directed at the top of that glassy-flat monument. Rock burst away at the point of intersection, hurtling to the ground a mile below in a cacophony of chuckling crashes. The bright line moved, then flickered and moved again. Then without a sound, without a fuss, it disappeared. Globally transfixed observers viewed the result with awe. A title had been carved finely into the highly polished vertical face, in clear, calligraphed, hundred-foot-tall letters. It chillingly read:
-≈«∞§• Heed Us! •§∞«≈-
The blue-white carving light returned, moving faster this time, completing its message in no more time than it would take to hand-write the same words. Again it stopped, allowing the dust time to clear. When it had, what remained was nothing less vital than The Answers to the World's Largest Questions:
-≈«∞§• We Are People Like Yourselves •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• You Are The Same As Us •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• You Can BECOME Us •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Therefore Believe In No God •§∞«≈-
Again it stopped, glowing hot carve lines cooling into glassy smooth outlines. But the amazement of creation dulled beneath the shock of those final five words. The planetary oxygen dropped momentarily with the sharp intake of fifteen billion breaths... no god? Blasphemy! Then realizing this information was coming from people who knew the truth, incredulity spread faster than sunlight and a release approaching bliss escaped their lips as one.
Once more the intense thin light began carving, leaving a gap this time between sections. This group had a different tone; though there was no title, the font etched deeply into the stone commanded obedience:
-≈«∞§• Hurt No One •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Maintain Respect For All People •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Do Not Overpopulate •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Learn New Facts And Teach Them To All •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Remain Transparent •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Treat Stories And Fantasy With Caution •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Limit Power of Leadership •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Keep The Planet Clean •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Decide As A People •§∞«≈-
-≈«∞§• Share All Resources Equally •§∞«≈-
Near the bottom, in smallish letters but thicker, important, there came an addendum:
-≈«∞§• We Will Return On Occasion And Desire Progress •§∞«≈-
When the final flourish was completed and the last bit of dust had blown away, all contact by the saviors from above ceased. The camera panned the monument slowly from the top, taking in every answer, stopping on every commandment. Then it faded and for the first time in centuries, viewscreens worldwide showed no religious material of any type. Instead, on every channel, kind and smiling people were teaching the knowledge of the world, knowledge which had been kept from the planet's people for centuries. Science of every stripe, the arts, humanism, social structure and ten thousand more subjects, complete in breadth and pellucid by design instead filled every home, commanding attention by their very unfamiliarity, absorbing into eager thirsty minds. In days to come, armed with new knowledge and following to the letter the immense guidelines from above, society reformed.
The scientist, deep in his lair of banned scientific devices, shut off the machinery he had been using for the past year. It had been difficult to hide the solar panels that had created enough needed energy to perform his world-saving plan, but he managed by using disguised panel design and surreptitious placement. The fact that most parts of the planet were off-limits helped as well. He was thankful that the Elders had not bothered to destroy the dense network of satellites circling the globe, preferring to find and destroy the land-based controls instead. This they had done... with the exception of one instrument bank, which was fortunately in the hands of the scientist. Powerful laser defense and gamma bombardment satellites, and precision planning, had done the rest.
Convincing an illiterate world they had just received freedom from above was not difficult, but killing the men responsible for allowing centuries of human enslavement was a painful duty for a moral man. What was hard as well was the knowledge that he was now an old man and could not guide the world much longer. He would need to find and train a student, a Keeper of the Secret, to carry on the charade after his death... and do so before he died. He could observe learners at their televisions; computers could determine the most knowledgeable candidate. But would he or she have the right temperament? He knew that the temptation of power was difficult to resist; he, as an impassive experimenter for much of his life, disliked power but saw the need and method for change and did what demanded doing. Could he find another him?
I assert that the preceding passages are true by my word, and by the evidence contained in the player. I am privy to all this information because of one reason: I am that scientist. It is my fervent hope, whenever this is found, that a new and better world has emerged as a result of my actions.
--Thaddeus T Thackery
Ginther had been speaking nonstop for over an hour and now exhaled noisily, leaning back in his chair, an indecipherable look on his face betraying an unknowable emotion. Leland emitted a low whistle, and then another. Finally he said, "Our society was built on a scam."
Ginther replied simply. "It would appear so."
"There was never any big battle."
"There was none mentioned."
"No millions of deaths?" Leland understood now why no bones of the slaughtered had ever been found.
"Only a few, by this accounting."
"And the intervention by benevolent aliens..."
"Was an intervention by a benevolent scientist."
"Whew. That's a big piece of news."
"Maybe too big."
Leland considered the other man's thought and then posited, "So there IS a god, then?"
"No..."
"Then there ISN'T a god."
"No... err... yes. I mean, all our knowledge in that area has just been uprooted. We've believed from the carvings on Elder Rock that an advanced society gave us absolute truths to follow, as a whole and down to a man."
"And now we find these are only the words of a single man."
"Well, yes... but apparently, a very well-educated man. We've followed these words for millennia and look at what they've done for us! Our advancement! Our peace! The reverent way we treat our planet! Surely it doesn't take genius beyond our own reckoning to design an infallible system?"
"Well see how infallible our system really is when this information gets out..."
Ginther grabbed his arm and held it in a surprisingly viselike grip. "Leland, I'm not sure if this should ever get out. Ever."
"But... Ginther... one of our chief provisions requires us to 'remain transparent'. I can't be a party to this kind of--" Leland slumped over on Ginther's bunk, look of shocked incredulity on his face, dead. Ginther removed the glassine syringe of poison injected into the younger man's ear canal and crushed it underfoot, into dust. He covered Leland with his blanket and waited until the camp was quiet and moved the man next to the cylindrical artifact, with the notebook. With a rapid motion he ignited a hot charge and ducked behind the metal table to protect himself against the initial burst of white-hot flame that turned everything, even steel, into smoke, then made his way back to his tent. It would be his sad duty to inform the camp of the tragic discovery of a new kind of booby trap, one which incinerated itself and anything nearby, and the loss of a valued member of the team along with his findings, but it was understood that this was one of the perils of modern archaeology.
Like the scientist, Ginther hated having to kill an innocent, yet again, to maintain society... but it was his sworn duty as 94th Keeper of the Secret, a duty he enforced with deadly serious intent. He got to work on the official translation, which he will have 'fortunately' made during the night, which confirmed all the information generally known about the Termination of Tyranny Movement. Leland would of course receive full honors posthumously and his story would be told in museums worldwide, how he tried to ressurrect the black box, only to trigger its destructive fail-safe, and how he gave his life for crucial information from that time.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when the first volunteer discovered the carnage.
Copyright 2011 Bruce I Friedman
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