The Days of Peleg (50 page)

In a quiet, non-confrontational voice, Peleg asked, “What exactly is this
Zeh-ra
you speak of?” He kept his demeanor very subservient, waiting for another onslaught.

Shem’s eyes gleamed.

“The
Zeh-ra
!” he hissed. “The only hope for all of humanity.”

He pointed to the brownish-red, tear-shaped tattoo on his cheek.

“The
Zeh-ra
,” he repeated.

“A drop of blood?” asked Peleg.

Shem stopped short.

“No, of course not.” He paused and then laughed slightly. “At least, not yet.”

He quickly resumed his frenzied delivery.

“The
Zeh-ra
is the Seed!
This
,” he continued to point to the tattoo, “is a simple depiction of a seed which symbolizes the greatest promise the
Creator
ever made!”

He dropped his finger and bent close to Peleg, who had just about absorbed as much nonsense as he could handle.

“Someday the
Creator
has promised that he will visit the Earth in human form! We know this from our earliest revelation. It prophesies that He will be born, this
Zeh-ra
or Seed of a woman,
with no man
, and will grow up to destroy all wrong and corruption, bring peace, plus…”

Shem paused, not for effect, but to somehow get his own emotions under control.

“Plus,” he repeated with great passion, suddenly opening his arms as if speaking to a large hall full of rapt listeners, “He will completely reverse the Curse that is currently upon us all!”

But Peleg had stopped listening. He could try and tolerate a belief that wished to better mankind, or even ‘destroy all wrong’ (whatever that meant) but he had to draw the line at a child being conceived without a man.

He looked around the room at the stone walls, the closed door, and the pebble mosaic ‘garden’, and suddenly felt the weight of many meters of rock above him.

Somehow he had to convince Shem that he was
not
a part of this grand mental scheme, that he was simply an innocent, accidental traveler who needed to get on his way. He would assure Shem that this place would remain secret, and that they were safe.

He was jolted back to attention when Shem rose, walked around the table, and stood over the seated Peleg. Shem continued in a terse, confiding voice, his intense eyes burrowing into Peleg’s face.

“It was revealed to me that the lineage through which the
Zeh-ra
would one day arrive was mine. And for many years, I followed my offspring—hoping that each one would be
the
one. But as our message was attacked and the numbers of those who foresee the coming
Zeh-ra
dwindled or were imprisoned, I began to worry that, when the time came, there would be no one left who even
knew
the promise.”

Shem apparently believed his family line was special, and he had concocted an entire sacred belief system around it. Peleg realized now more than ever how important it was to replace family-based learning with proper state-run education. It was less likely for an entire family to succumb to such delusions.

Shem crouched down slightly to explain.

“You see—if no one knows the promise, there will be no one who knows what to seek. The signs will not be identified.”

He stood again.

“You can imagine my dismay when the
Creator
revealed to me that Joktan, son of the fleeing Eber was
not
to be in the lineage. Eber had been wounded in a construction accident after the birth of Joktan, and it was believed that he could have no more children. Most men have thirty or forty children, and for Eber (who was in the chosen line) to have only one child—and for
that
child to
not
be selected—was very hard on our faith. And then, after many years, Eber had healed sufficiently to father once again, but
that
child was lost to the ‘orphanages’ after the death of its mother.

“Our only hope was that Eber would someday re-appear with a
third
child that would restore the lineage. We had never hoped that the second child, the weak one from the Time of the Confusion, would be found—or that he had even survived.”

Peleg instinctively disliked
anyone
who claimed to have ‘revealed’ knowledge. He was also very uncomfortable to realize that, if Shem’s story were accurate, this crazy Mentor must be much older that him. He squirmed in his chair, looking around the room again, when suddenly Shem returned to his seat behind the table, closed his eyes, and, in an instant, became motionless.

Puzzled, Peleg stared at the suddenly inanimate Mentor, started to rise, and then sat back down. He looked at the door behind him and thought about simply leaving. He sat for an indeterminable time in indecision, willing himself to leave, but never fully commanding his muscles to follow through. Finally he resigned himself to staring at the still Shem, until a motion behind the motionless Mentor caught his eye.

A stone panel, which had blended invisibly into the surrounding rock behind Shem, slid sideways, and a pale man with heavy eyebrows stepped through. He was wearing a one-piece bearskin kilt with a half shirt, and a helmet and boots made of leather.

Instantly, Shem’s eyes opened and he whirled around, standing at the same time. A short sword appeared in his hand and he lunged towards the intruder.

At the last second, Shem appeared to recognize the man and his thrust stopped in mid-stride. His sword disappeared; apparently sheathed in the same hidden fold it had come from.

The man made no reaction and immediately began speaking softly to Shem. Shem listened for a moment, nodded, and then dismissed the man, who left through the same opening he had appeared in.

The stone slid shut, leaving no hint as to where it had opened.

Shem reached for a small, square outcropping above his head and pressed. The protuberance sank into the wall until it was flush, and immediately the doorway behind Peleg opened, and the same two guards who had accompanied him entered—apparently responding to some hidden signal associated with Shem’s action.

Shem barked something at them in their own language, and they immediately reached for Peleg.

“What is happening?” demanded Peleg.

The men stopped for a moment as Shem spoke.

“Biological warfare,” he said to Peleg. “Sargon’s troops have poisoned one of our water reservoirs. They often throw the dead bodies of fallen troops into the wells to contaminate the ground water, but this time they have added distilled prussic acid and poured this into our supply.”

Even Peleg knew this simple recipe for cyanide, ground from peach-kernels, but was appalled that anyone would use it to attack a large population.

“All is well, though.” He broke into a large smile. “In my brief meditation, the
Creator
revealed that you are indeed the one—and that, through your offspring, shall come the
Zeh-ra
!” He frowned suddenly.

“You do have children, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Peleg offered hesitantly.

The huge smile returned.

“Wonderful!” Shem suddenly looked straight up into the round stone ceiling.

“For over one hundred years I have waited for
You
to reveal your plan, and now in my three-hundred and tenth year,
You
have once again shown Yourself to be true!”

Peleg was looking up into the craggy ceiling, trying to determine whom Shem was addressing, when suddenly six more men, dressed as the man from behind the panel, pushed into the room. Shem immediately adjusted his mood, barking crisp orders in his language to the new arrivals. He gave quick, separate commands to each, and then looked at Peleg’s two guards without pausing and gave them their instructions, with a wave.

The two guards took Peleg’s shoulders (gently this time) and soon he was being hurried out of the room, pulled through the other men who were rushing out to obey their orders, and then escorted back up the ramps and steps and finally returned to his cell.

Of all of the bewildering and incredible things he had just heard and witnessed, nothing had shocked him like Shem’s parting statement—apparently made to some local deity.

Peleg remembered his conversation with Serug before departing on the Great Discovery when they had realized that no one had ever met an actual survivor of the Great Calamity. If Shem’s statement were to be taken seriously, (and not just the ravings of an insane caveman), this tall, young-
looking
Mentor had actually been ninety-eight years old at the time of the Great Calamity!

Regardless of Shem’s superstitious beliefs and probable delusions, Peleg realized that somehow he
had
to talk with him again—if only to try and glean some information concerning the circumstances of the Great Calamity.

It also meant that, as a survivor, much of the world’s current population must be direct descendants of Shem. That would include Eber, and (if Shem’s story were true) himself.

It would also explain the use of the word ‘Founder’.

Chapter 33

Intent

“The observed cosmos requires a minimum of three components: Matter, Energy, and Organization.”

H
e had not seen the flute player this time when he entered his cell, and during the several hours since, he had not heard the flute play. Again, he had the irrational fear that he had been abandoned here, far below the surface, but he had one hopeful thought that he had not enjoyed previously.

He was sure that this Founder, Shem, wanted to see him again. Almost as much as Peleg wanted to see him. There were many questions he wished to ask Shem, and he hoped he could filter out the local myths from the facts.

Peleg had been practically raised by Reu-Nathor (and his mother) and had also spent nearly sixty years studying and teaching the highest forms of objective thinking and reason the modern world had to offer.

A meal arrived, and he bit into the extremely tough venison.
Why did these people give him food that was so difficult to chew?
Maybe it was standard prisoner-of-war rations. Soon his jaw and temple began to hurt as he forced his teeth through the stiff meat. He mixed some water from the wall (hoping it wasn’t contaminated) into his plate to try and soften the fibers somewhat. For a moment he was envious of the youth across the hall with his sharp teeth.

His mind drifted back to the years spent preparing and building the
Citadel
. And of the years spent studying there and being trained by the greatest minds since the Great Awakening.

The
Citadel
was built as the first and finest center for teaching and promulgating pure
Knowledge
, balanced, of course, by reason and research. Astronomy, chemistry and mathematics were the foundational arts, and all other disciplines came from them. He had been assigned cartography as his major course of study, and his elective studies in linguistics had allowed him to develop many of the transformational grammar principles which were now taught to newcomers at the
Citadel
.

Of course there were other monuments of learning in the modern world, but they were founded much later and were not as established. Many of them were nothing more than libraries that often contained much of the writings and research from the
Citadel
. Unfortunately, every other center of learning that Peleg knew of also incorporated much of the local mysticism and religious politics into its curriculum, completely undermining the value and purpose of education.

He would need his training in future encounters with Shem. He was well equipped to remain objective and maintain a rational outlook, but this Founder seemed to have a very powerful personality. He was prepared to allow a semblance of acquiescence if it gave him the freedom he needed to return home. Plus, additional information from an actual pre-Calamity survivor would be a great bonus for him and the
Citadel
—if it could be trusted.

One thought still created an uneasy discrepancy within him. The tattoo (which he now knew represented a seed) was the same tattoo worn by Mentor Thaxad. Did this mean that the Chief Chemist of the
Urbat
, with whom he had spent twelve years of his life, shared the same beliefs as this Founder? Thaxad had always been most secretive about his personal philosophies; only implying that his background was more esoteric and less formalized than the disciplines of the
Citadel
. A cold feeling crept through him as he contemplated the possibility that Thaxad had held the same views as Shem.

He shook his head.

It didn’t matter. Either way, his objective was to learn as much as he could, gain as much trust and confidence as possible, and ultimately find his way out of here and back home. Also, he now knew his most critical charts and maps were intact (although they had been left behind on Shem’s table when he was hurriedly escorted out) so he would have to find a way to collect them before he left.

“
Stand aside!
”

It was Shem’s voice!

Peleg stood up and backed away from the door. The great stone rose, and Peleg could see Shem in the dim blue-green light.

“I would like to show you more of our home,” he said. “We call our underground community
Haganah
, and we have lived here, raising our families, for many decades.”

He beckoned for Peleg to follow.

“We have expanded a great deal since we first settled in these natural limestone caverns.”

Peleg walked towards him as Shem turned down the corridor in the direction opposite that which Peleg had gone the two previous times. Peleg followed cautiously, and then, with an uncharacteristic boldness, moved to walk beside the Founder. He was determined that Shem regard him as an equal; that he was not to be intimidated. As he did so, he noticed the two obligatory guards who stepped in behind them and followed in the darkness.