The GOD Box (3 page)

Gabe said easily,
“Our civilization was far advanced. We had lots of science experiments, medicines, technology you wouldn’t understand. By a certain process and having the right materials, we could create life. Including our own… which still works after we die because of some new technology.” The pitch of Gabe’s voice was a little higher than expected for a male, and always had been, but was conscientious and intelligent.

Glancing over to the other conversation
and back to her own, May was wincing like she was in pain, but was even honestly trying to grasp something… or anything from Jonathan.

“… because of the hemoglobin in the blood, it wouldn’t have worked any other way. It was necessary for us to do so. The prototype didn’t seem to get it. Artificial intelligence my ass.” Then he kept talking… but not really to May, or to anyone… to the cold stone ceiling… drifting off in memories about things that worked and things that didn’t.

What was alarming to Gabe was that this whole situation was not very alarming to them. Obviously, they didn’t know the extremity of the situation. They didn’t know what had happen before… but also obvious was that they had expected something, even in their vaguest considerations, which would teach them about the past. The issue of dying so fast last time would unfortunately mean they left behind more of a trace than usual.
How many years had it been?

Dane
continued, insinuating too much to be healthy, “The continued progression? Does that mean this has happened more than once?”

Jonathan
stopped talking abruptly, shocked that no one was listening to him, then took in Gabe’s expression of:
really, you gave that away already
? The concern on both their minds, however, was how much information to give them… that was the hard question… could they handle the truth? Well, honesty seemed to always be the best policy. So, they might as well get to it.

“Yes, this will be number five
.” Gabe clarified. “What year are you in now?”

“
Two-hundred and twenty-eight.”

Huh
. Gabe likely made it a little too obvious that he thought that was interesting.

“Okay” h
e responded. And that was it. What it meant was that this civilization had been in progress for ninety-one years (if they really kept accurate records, which was probably not likely). What was very curious, but unnecessary to share was how late that was in their civilization, comparatively, to have come to this particular ocean, and, to have had boats out and about to stumble coincidentally upon the entrance of this cave. The time before that was fifty-five, then thirty, thirty-two, and a record of twenty the first time. Gabe imagined the time of expansion would have been opposite, but now that he thought about it, it made sense.

W
ith hands fidgety in her pockets, but a steady voice, May asked, “So in two-hundred and eighty-seven years you’ve come back to life five times?” Her voice was kind and warm, albeit skeptical.

Both hesitated this answer, knowing one would say “yes” and one would say “no”.

The silence was giving
the secrets away anyway. Already they’d given more information than usual, because these two seemed particularly trusting. Instead of an answer, Jonathan abruptly decided they should move upward.

The sil
ence shifted, as if embarrassed because no one moved.

Attempting to be helpful
and throw a bone Jonathan’s way, Gabe admitted congenially that it would be really nice to see each other in full sunlight and felt that that might help. When the stares continued he settled with not pushing the matter and answered them.

“The honest answer is yes
, but that comes with a long explanation.”

“Damn it.” Jonathan offered to the conversation.

The pair looked at him and managed to make the same very clear repugnant expression toward Jonathan’s unconcern.

“Let’s sit, shall we?” Gabe offered
like a salesman about to give his pitch. They sat - in the darkness, in the cave. He debated how to go about this. There was a lot they could know, and could even understand, but he didn’t know if he wanted them to. Or, if he’d be able to explain it well enough. Howbeit, he felt like this talking was good and he was a little more at ease. All four of them were shivering though, which seemed like a stupid punishment for unfamiliarity.

As they talked he determined a few things. According to the books, Gabe was a cultural and linguistic anthropologist. English was the only language that was saved, so naturally
that was the only thing he had to work with. That made about half of his life’s research a waste. He noted that communicative language was fine, but expressive language was probably missing a few things. Too many slang terms were part of the typical vocabulary. They generally wouldn’t have words further back than the last generation, though that was an unproved assumption. Often times what would occur is that they tried to mimic a modern idea, and for lack of vocabulary, called it the only thing they knew.

Gabe opened up to them first so they would feel comfortable,
“People have always created organization for themselves, called government, or rel - ” He cut himself off and corrected, “Well, let’s just say government. Is that a term you understand? Because that will be easiest to explain.”

“Yes” They said simultaneously.

“Okay, great,” He said it was great, although he didn’t really think it was; not yet. “So a government imposes restrictions; or limitations on people - ” He paused when they looked confused.

“What do you mean?” May asked.

“They make rules in attempt to make things equal with the people they govern; to hold order.” He watched them to make sure they understood, then continued, but May’s question suggested that they didn’t have the same type of government. He’d have to learn about that later. “Once upon a time there was this thing called morality… and, ideally, these expectations made everyone equal. But, in our time, people were still fighting against these morals which were decided by people who lived centuries – hundreds, of years before us. It was created without equality for a few reasons: (1) They just didn’t have the knowledge of what would transpire in hundreds of years; the kinds of people and cultures they would need to incorporate; the multiplicity of situations that would need a third party for (2) The people who created them were in the privileged tiers of a stratified society, sorry… a hierarchy? And so they abused the system while those under their govern were held to the ironic standard, and (3) The very idea they tried to encourage was freedom by balancing everyone’s actions, but limited freedom of choice in the attempt.

“
There were hundreds of thousands of cultures who all lived (at one point) in very different ways. All of them had some type of government, or social organization that held expectations for their members. Change was always a battle. Many people had what you might call an elitist view of freedom – they decided man’s highest achievement was this freedom;
that
represented progress and growth. Many Anthropologists – a surprising amount – had this view, which was a sight better than what the world first defined progress as, which was technological, scientific, and economic advancement. I could, but won’t, go into details about the difficulties of measuring freedom and the overarching arguments about how we could all possibly agree on what freedom could mean.

“
Those with this opinion started going around trying to convince, or coerce this freedom among different groups. America, the country we lived in, had done this for years, with little success, but these groups of anthropologists were trying new ways. Good ways… safe ways that wouldn’t overwhelm a culture with changes. The last thing they wanted to do was destroy culture. But, it happened anyway. It stopped becoming a covert operation by experts, to everyone trying to change everyone and the superpowers of the world wouldn’t have it.

“
I could go on forever about why that didn’t work. However, the point is that we were hoping for freedom. That is what we still want, but we realized we had to start with people who didn’t have bias, or culturally inherent morals or habits. Does that make sense?”

“Sure” They agreed
together. It was a little creepy that they responded so frequently at the same time, with the same tone. While the last miniature part of childishness that Gabe possessed  was tempted to say, ‘jynx’, he realized his very unchild-like face, instead, made a strange expression at them, which he tried to quickly correct.

Whether they really understood remained to be seen.
The conversation continued with their clarifying questions. Jonathan made a few mediocre comments, and Gabe came in and out, sometimes asking for clarification for things on their end, and sometimes explaining his perspective.

During the entirety of their conversation, Gabe was reminded of an old quote.
It was said once that it wasn’t a matter whether men worshipped, but who or what was the object of their devotions.* He’d always found this a worthwhile phrase, but not for God. Still, what did these people worship? Success and power based on knowledge and skill? Dominance? Fear? Technological advances (whatever they might be)? Organization and control? Relationships? Wealth? Ease and comfort? Societal well-being? Happiness?

While
his thoughts were in a continuous, spiraling flow, his words were brief, and informative, but not decorative, nor inspiring, nor did they tell them much about him at all. For the next few hours, they talked. Politics ended up being the main part of the conversation. The tradition of democracy and of soliciting self and ideas were far too ingrained to have been unlearned yet. But they explained that until recently, the idea of soliciting ideas was more for the literary public and not the politics.

Gabe roamed about fastidiously in his memories as they spoke.
Foolishly, he and Jonathan had imagined a successful, unbiased society was going to be accomplished more quickly – that survival needs would have determined a de-evolution of sorts. They had hoped they wouldn’t have had to restart twice, let alone five times. Yet here they were.

Facial expressions were utterly blank
after the few hours of talking. Jonathan had said very little in the end, participating in both his mental, private conversation and once and a while throwing in an abrasive verbal comment. No matter. Gabe preferred Jonathan’s silence. Seeing their blankness and hearing the growl of stomachs, Gabe knew that now was probably a better time to suggest heading to open air. Funny how exhaustion and starvation will make you forget that your enemy may be next to you.

However, as they began walking out of the cave
they separated – Gabe and Jonathan leading the way and the other two lagging behind intentionally. He saw the way Dane had signaled to May by grabbing her elbow lightly and pulling back to talk more privately. It wasn’t a big deal. Jonathan was ready to get out of the cave and Gabe was more concerned letting Jonathan too far out of his sight, then their new friends.

As they were walking, Gabe tried to imagine what things they had observed about he and Jonathan. It was clear they were astute and aware, and details about Gabe and Jonathan weren’t getting away unnoticed. First he considered his own appearance. Wi
thout much background or collegiate study, they really didn’t have much to go on except appearance. So, an honest look at himself was about like this – balding – and maybe that was first because it was the one he was most bitter about. Old would be the next descriptor, as anticipated. He wore the baggy, cargo pants to the top of his sturdy, black, no-slip grip work shoes. The pockets of those pants were filled with all sorts of things preparatory for the end of the world.

Though Dane and May
couldn’t see what was in the pockets, eventually they might ask and so he went over them in his head. He went back about a month before he died – the day they realized what was truly going to transpire. At his city high-rise apartment, he gathered the necessities. Crisp images of a well-furnished, one-bedroom flat eased his mind momentarily. The black furnishings and the organization of it all reminded him what life used to be; comfortable. Most everything he really needed was in the two drawers next to his bed that was topped with a silver lamp. The first thing he pulled from the bottom drawer, and the most obvious to him now, was a pair of small handguns – one of which was the heavy thing attached to his leg under the cargo pants. The other, was regrettably left behind in their haste last time. Avoiding sharing the gun, or the information about last time, with them was ideal. Grabbing it was a desperate – a really desperate measure.

Besides that were
your typical needs: a flashlight, beef jerky (and lots of it), wool socks, steel wool… if you’re trying to start a civilization over, there’s a lot of things it’s just not pertinent to bring, or else you give the new people you meet too many ideas. Cards was next on the list, he didn’t mind sharing with them that menial entertainment.

At his bedside table, h
e had considered risking a camera to document… but then he thought… document for what? And he remembered how uncomfortably he stared at himself and almost laughed in the reflection of the lamp as he left it in his night stand.

He was wearing a white V-neck t-shirt that fit close enough to realiz
e how thin and frail his aged body was. Hopefully, the wrinkles in his face showed that at least some kind of happiness had existed once upon a time in his life. Complete with square frames on the bend of his nose he was certainly not much of a spectacle.
Ha
. A regular old retired college professor and grumpy, failed, researcher. Being friendly for him was for a purpose, not for a joy. Not for a meaningful, heartfelt experience, not for anything meeting new people should be for, not even for attention, but for learning, and most importantly for the personal success of knowing what had to be done to help the human race.