The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  Peleg had just returned to the ship to get some charts. His excitement at finally being able to do observations on solid ground was exhilarating, and he had wanted some more references for his base camp observations.

  Normally, he would have asked Serug to get them, but when his young friend wasn’t spending time studying with Thaxad, he was examining the plants and wildlife. Serug had also developed some good friends closer to his age, and spent a great deal of time with them. Peleg smiled to himself. The average age aboard the Urbat was about sixty-five, and it was fun watching the (now) forty-five-year-old fit in.

  Stepping out on the deck he saw the reason for the Captain’s urgency. Aligned along the shore was a group of seventeen men who were wearing the most outlandish and colorful clothing he had ever seen.

  Aside from the fact that there should be no people here at all, he was more concerned with the weaponry they seemed to be carrying.

  Captain Phaxâd was already seated in the dinghy, and motioned for Peleg to join him. He got in, and a deckhand lowered them into the water.

  As they rowed to shore, the Captain explained, “My wife and I saw a stone carving that was probably made by these people. It’s time for you to earn your keep as a diplomat and linguist. Just try and make sure they’re not angry and then get permission to use some of these grasslands so we can do some planting and bird hunting.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I don’t suppose we have time to break out our own weapons?” This was rhetorical, since he knew their best hope was to be as non-threatening as possible.

  He could see the strangers more clearly, now. They stood in an impassive line along the rocks, yet their body language clearly said, “We are waiting for an explanation for this invasion.” The fact that each man brandished a large, flat blade in front of his face did not help Peleg’s anxiety.

  Upon reaching the shore, he and the Captain climbed up the beach towards the men. Peleg extended his arms to show he was carrying no weapons, and smiled. He tried to determine who the leader was and addressed him in a clear voice.

  “Good Afternoon!”

  The man next to the ‘leader’ responded, “Your ship is not golden, and you do not bear the look of the Atua. We demand to know by what authority you have invaded our sanctuary.”

  The syllables washed over Peleg’s ears as he realized with horror that he didn’t understand a word that was spoken. This was going to take awhile.

  He looked around and in desperation took hold of Captain Phaxâd’s lovely (and valuable) solid-black command cape fashioned from a single swath of spun flax. He unfastened it and lifted it from the startled Captain’s shoulders.

  He folded it neatly and walked towards the ‘speaker’. He knelt on the ground in front of him, indicating that this was a gift, then pointed to himself and said, “I am Peleg.”

  The man stared at him, then shook his head, apparently coming to the same conclusion as Peleg. He motioned towards another man and said something incomprehensible. The second man came forward, faced Peleg and slowly said, “Pehe koe?”

  Manu picked up the folded piece of cloth, and wondered why anyone would consider such a drab piece of material something valuable enough to be a worthy gift. It had been fastened around the short man’s neck, and appeared to have no function other than to collect perspiration. Even worse, it was all one color. No sophistication. It was like giving someone a sweaty black rag.

  No matter. The gesture was understood. These intruders did not appear threatening, and perhaps they were just as lost as his men had been thirty-six years earlier. Besides, Kupé should be well able to educate these newcomers in his language. He was an excellent writer and had studied some inland dialects during his explorations prior to their banishment.

  The initial exchange continued, and soon Kupé was going through the animated motions of teaching words like ‘stand’, ‘sit’, ‘eat’, and of course the obligatory ‘My name is —’. Soon the stranger was unrolling charts of some kind, and Manu felt sure that the mystery of their new guests would soon be solved.

  The once King of Heaven and Earth had achieved complete military and political control over Uruk and Kish. And he was quickly collecting a large workforce which would soon rebuild his old city.

  He had heard from his daughter who claimed to have considerable sway over the Academicians in her city. Her letter made her seem like quite a mystic, but that could be used to his advantage. They had no military to speak off, and perhaps simply by announcing his arrival, he could annex the city with little cost or effort. And a touch of religious manipulation never hurt. He was the original author of mixing religion with politics.

  Controlling this key port city would solidify trade, and it wouldn’t hurt to be seen as a great unifying savior.

  He had given himself the title of Sar, and he gloried in the realization that the Future King of Heaven and Earth had arrived.

  Chapter 13

  Banishment

  “It is the nature of religion to violently impose subjective absolutes on others.”

  “That cape was a gift from my wife!” Captain Phaxâd was not really angry; he was simply trying to figure out if Peleg could have tried something else first.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Peleg offered. “I just reached for the finest item I could get at such short notice. I wanted to appear that we had intended a gift for them all along, and I didn’t feel it would look good to go back to the ship and give them something else.”

  “I’m sure it was well received. Perhaps next time you could offer something of your own.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Peleg deflected the subject. “I think they understand our needs, and soon they will return with their response.”

  The strangers did not appear to be concerned about appeasing any gods, unless this ‘Reu-Nathor’ was some kind of incarnate deity. Their only concern was to travel the seas and chart whatever lands they encountered. The most important thing was that they had no intention of staying. They claimed to need a small area to grow some crops, and then they would be on their way.

  Manu had expressed concern that the Atua might look down and see the unbelievers, and be less likely to descend, but Commander Irawaru disagreed. He stated that they were extending mercy, just as they had received it, and that Mara’ma would be pleased and would provide intercession if needed.

  Irawaru listed the conditions whereby the strangers would be allowed to remain, and Kupé was sent to relay them.

  Peleg had been shocked as he slowly realized that this new language was unlike anything he had ever studied or heard. He was familiar with the agglutinative constructs among the peoples back home in the mountains of the northeast, but it took him some time to realize that the same word in this strange language could have multiple meanings depending on the pitch or tone with which it was said. They sat for several hours under some trees next to the beach, drawing in the sand and exchanging vocabulary. The man, whose name was Kupé, had gradually explained what they expected of the new arrivals. The Urbat must move eastward along the northern coastline where there was a decent beach for the ship to anchor and a large grassy plain. There they could plant their crops and hunt freely. When they had finished harvesting, they must then continue their voyage.

  Their leader went by the name of Irawaru, but Kupé would not disclose where on the island their village was located. The men of the Urbat were free to utilize the areas of the north as they saw fit, but they must stay clear of the areas surrounding the large southwestern mountain, and must make no attempt to discover their village. Some creatures they called ‘Atua’ would not be pleased. Peleg didn’t want to run into any wild animals, so he agreed to all of the conditions.

  The Urbat pulled up anchor, and moved around the northern coastline where it set up a permanent camp. A small patch of grassland was burned away to be tilled for grain and flax, while some trees were harvested to repair and reinforce the ship. Small gathering parties went in search of berries and bark while others went to
hunt for birds.

  Peleg established a new observatory, and looked forward to making some long-term charting with his gearbox planetarium now that he was on fixed soil. He could now set up a proper sundial stick and accurately determine azimuth. He had an exact latitude and declination, and would soon be able to plug in the rest of his numbers. By comparing his almanac from home, he would be able to mark his position on the globe as accurately as if he were looking down from Suen. He had memorized the formula as a boy, but he still liked to look at it:

  ctg(A) = cos(lat)tg(dec) / sin(LHA) - sin(lat)tg (LHA)

  It was sheer beauty. Now by using his sextant as a protractor, he could mark off absolute north and finally get a new, accurate magnetic variation. Hopefully, they wouldn’t wander so far off course next time.

  “You haven’t seen anything like this?” Phaxâd teased the tall Mentor. Thaxad meekly towered over the diminutive Captain. No one ever mentioned that fact that Captain Phaxâd was the shortest man on the ship. Standing next to Thaxad merely accentuated the difference.

  “I’m sure I haven’t seen everything,” Thaxad admitted. “You’re saying you saw evidence of asymmetrical geo-polymerization?”

  “Absolutely! In fact, many of the bricks were rounded, as if a foaming sheet of different sized bubbles were suddenly solidified into a solid wall.” He paused for effect. “Without mortar.”

  Thaxad pondered this. He tried to imagine multiple casting molds with merging edges that could be removed once the bricks were in place. Perhaps some kind of thin ceramic that could be washed away with acid once the stone had set. He must be allowed to examine this.

  “I should like to observe this,” he finally acknowledged.

  “I’m sorry,” said Phaxâd. “The locals won’t allow us to explore that portion of the island. It upsets one of their special animals or environment or something. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  Thaxad spoke in a voice more earnest than usual. This was as close as he got to expressing excitement or determination. “I should like to visit this platform.” Only his eyes betrayed his desire. “Discretely, of course.”

  Phaxâd had already decided. “No. We can’t risk upsetting our hosts. It wouldn’t do to anger them and lose our supplies and crops.”

  “I see,” Thaxad submitted, at least verbally. “As you say. I’m sure it was as you describe. I will take your word for it.”

  On the second, fourth, and sixth day of each week, Peleg had a lengthy meeting with Kupé, who was an excellent student. One thing had always puzzled him. All known cultures and people groups surveyed the heavens and performed all math and geometry in multiples of sixty. Dividing and multiplying by six seemed intuitive to him, yet somehow, every culture divided their calendar into seven-day weeks. There were different ways of determining months, and adjusting the method by which the year matched the seasons, but he could think of no geometric or astronomical basis for this peculiar seven-day cycle. Who had decided to use a prime number to subdivide time?

  Now, when they were scheduling days to convene, Peleg had assumed without thinking that Kupé would understand this cycle. Realizing the error of this assumption, he then expected Kupé to be completely confused. To his astonishment, Irawaru’s men also maintained this inexplicable seven-day cycle, and Peleg’s puzzlement grew. What natural order of things brought about such a pattern?

  The islanders had given special names to each of the days, instead of the simple numbers that Peleg was used to; but Kupé also seemed unaware that a different arrangement was possible. In fact, Kupé and his associates set aside the seventh day to meditate on these strange ‘Atua’ creatures. Strangely, back home, day seven was usually set aside for rest and recreation.

  As the weeks progressed, he discovered that Kupé’s community was comprised only of men, and that they had traveled under harsh conditions from a large continent much further to the east. This greatly relieved Peleg to discover that there were land masses between where they were now and home. He looked forward to hearing more about this, and perhaps obtaining some maps or other details of what to expect when they set sail again.

  “I tell you, he looked just like one of the Atua!” Kupé exclaimed.

  Manu cut him off before he could continue.

  “Not in that beat-up ship,” he said. “The Atua travel in golden skyships.”

  “I’m not saying he is a god,” Kupé retorted. “Besides, their ship is nicer than any you’ve ever been on.”

  Manu grunted and glanced at Irawaru.

  Kupé continued.

  “All I’m saying is that he looks like what I would expect. He’s taller with a long face, and appears a little older than the others. He reminded me of my first Mara’ma.”

  Manu laughed. “So now you’re saying he’s the Watcher-in-the-moon.”

  Commander Irawaru interrupted, irritated. “Manu, let’s not have any irreverent remarks. Mara’ma guided us safely here, and here we’ll stay until the Atua choose to come for us. If not, someday we will each ascend the golden chord to their realm, and receive our reward then.”

  He turned to Kupé. “Invite your student, Peleg and their leader for dinner. Ask also for the tall man you described to accompany them.”

  “His name is Thaxad,” Kupé offered.

  “Excellent.” Irawaru smiled at them both, and the surrounding men. “It will be interesting to witness the one the Kupé claims looks like a god.”

  Kupé drew back a little. “I said, I didn’t say he was a god. In fact, he had very white skin. He also had a marking or tattoo on his cheek. Everyone knows that the Atua are very dark and splendid with no markings or blemishes of any kind.”

  Irawaru laughed lightly. “When the strangers leave, we will look forward to your next Mara’ma to see if you make it paler.” The surrounding men chuckled.

  He became serious again. “Now, at your next lesson, please deliver our invitation. I believe we can now trust them with our location.”

  They set out for the islander’s encampment, led by Kupé, later that afternoon. He was distressed at the absence of Thaxad. When they had left the ship, Peleg and Captain Phaxâd could find him nowhere. Kupé was decidedly agitated; he had wanted to present Thaxad to his compatriots. Kupé explained that he was the sculptor of the carving discovered by Captain Phaxâd, and apparently, their ship’s chemist bore a strong resemblance to his creation.

  Upon entering the village, Peleg noticed that all of the huts were arranged to create an outline of three elongated ellipses. Also, each of the dwellings was made in the same stretched oval shape and lined up with the larger arc.

  Peleg asked their guide what significance this elongated elliptical shape carried.

  “That is the path which the wandering star of the Atua takes through the heavens,” was Kupé’s nonchalant reply.

  Peleg was taken aback. All he could think of was the animosities between those at home who argued over Nibiru’s ultimate fate. The Atua must be some kind of spirit beings or gods in their local myths, not an unknown animal. He was sure that wild creatures didn’t fly to other worlds.

  Kupé noticed the look on his face, and mistook it for a lack of comprehension.

  “We re-discovered their sign in the sky three years ago, and rebuilt our community to honor them. They will come for us someday, and we want them to recognize our faithfulness and devotion.”

  Peleg realized with a start that Kupé was referring to the reappearance of Nibiru, but was surprised to find this degree of superstition among these men. He was also somewhat alarmed by the similarities with the views of Mentor Salah.

  Kupé had already moved on, and was now discussing the settlement. They had arrived here thirty-six years ago, and had devoted their lives to meditation and music. He was the lone sculptor, but there were several good mathematicians and astronomers, and Manu was their chemist. In fact, Manu had developed the procedure which was used to form the platform for his statues.

  Peleg wasn’t sure he
understood everything, since the language barrier wasn’t completely bridged, but he felt he was starting to get a comprehensive picture of these men.

  Kupé then promised that the full saga of their arrival would be presented this evening.

  The dinner was excellent, consisting of broiled albatross and spicy, sliced owl meat. A large variety of unknown fruits were offered, along with a salad of nuts and finely chopped bark.

  A small orchestra of tuned percussion began to play. The sound was most distressing to Peleg until he realized he was listening to a monophonic scale of forty-three notes to the octave. He then began to enjoy the gradual rise and fall of the music and noticed the sparkle when perfect-thirds and perfect fifths burst out as passing tones in the thick polyrhythmic texture which swelled and faded within the larger thematic structure.

  He asked Kupé about the significance of forty-three.

  Kupé shrugged. “Any more and the intervals would not be discernible,” was the earnest, obvious answer. “And the intervals are completely symmetric. Whether one starts from the top or the bottom of the scale, he will discover the same intervals between the 4/3 and the 3/2 ratio, forming a complimentary inversion from the opposite ends of the octave. We spent many years trying to find a perfect scale before we succeeded.”

  Kupé finished with a smile, obviously pleased with their discovery.

  Peleg shook his head and wished Serug were here. Musical tuning systems had been another of Serug’s numerous short-lived obsessions. He had always insisted that proper intervals should be based on the ratios found in planetary cycles, and that only non-divisible harmonics should be allowed to define consonances. Or something like that. He had called it Serug’s Harmony of the Heavens.

  On second thought, though, Peleg decided it was better that he was not here. Serug would probably chuckle and make rude jokes at the sight of an all-male percussion ensemble.