“Yeah, vaguely.”
“Well, you were wrong. This is a revelation.” I held up the notebook as I walked over and sat back down in the chair.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” I took a deep breath. “Greg, I was all wrong about the meteorites.”
“Okay. We didn’t really believe that anyway, right?”
“After I translated the entire manuscript-”
“Wait.” He put up his hand and stood up. “You couldn’t even read all of the manuscripts.”
“Oh.” I grunted. My eyes followed him as he walked around the desk and sat down in the chair next to mine. I realized that now I would have to explain this whole thing about getting the notebook to him.
“I didn’t tell you. Dr. Sabir had copied the manuscript, untranslated, verbatim, in a notebook.”
“Who is Dr. Sabir?”
“Dr. Margulies’ father.”
“Hold on. I’m lost. Where is Dr. Margulies’ father?”
“He’s dead.”
“He’s dead and Dr. Margulies is dead. How did you get it? And why don’t they have the same last name?”
“Long story.”
“Okay. So, let’s hear it.”
“Dr. Margulies’ father worked on the Dead Sea Scrolls. He was the translator of the manuscripts. The one Dr. Yeoman’s journal is talking about that died.”
“The interpreter who was killed?”
“He didn’t get killed. Well, not like I thought. He was struck by lightning.” I could see the restraint in his face. He had to muster the tact not to comment on my continued insistence that the man had been murdered.
“Tell me how you got the manuscript,” he said instead.
“Mrs. Margulies gave it to me after Dr. Margulies died.”
“Dr. Margulies had this notebook of the complete manuscript all along and he never told you.”
“He didn’t know.”
“He didn’t know?” He didn’t believe that.
“No.”
“He didn’t know he had the notebook?”
“No.” I practically shouted. “He didn’t know he had the notebook.”
Trying to stay calm was not working. Greg’s questions pricked me like I had gotten tangled up in a briar patch. I wiggled up out of the chair and started walking in circles, depressing the threads of the carpet as I dragged my feet over it. The blue upholstered furniture and walls becoming a blur.
“Well, are you gonna tell me?” he asked.
I stopped. I spread out my arms and just blurted it out. “Life didn’t come to Earth from Mars on a meteorite. It came in spaceships. Life as we know it started on Mars.” I pushed the notebook in his face as if he could see the words inside.
“So, what? In the beginning men came from Mars?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you saying, Justin. God didn’t create man?”
“No. Yes, of course God created man.” I went and sat down, leaned forward and looked in his face. “He just put them on Mars.”
“So why does the Bible say, ‘God created heaven and earth?’ Earth, Justin. Earth not Mars.”
“Greg. I told you this a thousand times, earth is just a relative term, it means dirt.” I got up and started circling the floor again. I was waving my arms around in the air and straining my neck to look up at the ceiling, finding it hard not to shout the words out. “Mars has dirt, technically its earth. We gave it the name Mars. Really this doesn’t have anything to do with God. This is science.”
“Everything has to do with God, Justin” he said.
“Not this.”
“What do you mean? Aliens from Mars, who were created by God, came down and impregnated Neanderthals or Indians or something?”
Oh here he goes again. I collapsed into the chair.
“Greg. You are not listening to me.” I rubbed my temple with my fingers. “No aliens came from anywhere. Well, in a way they did. But not really.” I propped my elbows on my knees and buried my head in my hands.
I couldn’t find the words to explain.
“See you don’t even know.”
“I do know,” I said, closing my eyes. I was becoming so frustrated. My head, throbbing from crying, felt thick and sluggish, nothing connected. My brain felt like a lighter being flicked over and over that had run out of fluid. I let my body go limp, my head fell and rested on the back of the chair and my arms dropped to either side of it.
“I just don’t know how to explain it to you. Or to anyone.” I held my head up so I could see his face. He frowned at me. How could I explain this? I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. This was too much for me.
“Greg, I gotta go.” I stood up but instead of going out the door, I went and stood in a corner facing the wall. I let my forehead fall against the wall.
“Justin. What do you mean you have to go? Sit down. Let’s talk.”
“I don’t want to talk,” I said my voice quivering.
He was too impatient for me. He was making me even more upset than I was. I was wrong. I didn’t need someone to antagonize me. I needed someone to just listen.
“Justin, what is wrong with you?”
“I gotta go.” The words came out but my feet didn’t move. It felt like I was standing in sludge. And inside of me it was as if a small flame had started growing.
“Justin,” he got up from his seat and came over to me. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.” I lied. “I’m going home. I’ll call you later.” Barely able to drag my heavy feet, I started for the door.
“You want me to take you home?”
“No.”
“You want me to call Mase to come and get you?”
“No. I’m fine.” Tears were falling down my face and I was sweating. I covered my hand with the sleeve of my jacket and wiped my eyes and my forehead. Greg went over to his desk, got me a Kleenex and turning me around to face him, wiped the tears from my face and handed me the tissue. He walked back over to his desk, leaned against the edge of it, crossed his arms and watched me wipe my eyes and blow my nose.
I couldn’t keep from crying. Maybe this is how Dr. Yeoman felt when he hid and destroyed documents.
I finished blowing my nose and walked over and handed the tissue back to Greg. He took the tissue, threw it away and leaning back across his desk got another one and wiped the tears still streaming down my cheeks.
“Come on, Justin now, you’re scaring me. Tell me what this is all about.
“I’m leaving. I’ll call you when I get home.”
I hurried and got out of Greg’s office before my feet stopped working again. I tried waiting for the elevator, but it took too long. I ran down the five flights of stairs from his office and I flung the door to the outside open. The glaring sunlight hit me in my face. I found my sunglasses and stumbled my way to the car.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Time slowed down and started to drag. People and things were moving in slow motion, their mouths opened yelling at me, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I felt like I was in a vacuum and I couldn’t get out.
The car drove home on auto pilot. Pulling in my driveway, I saw Mase’s car. Now, I’d have to try and explain it to him.
I stared at the notebook sitting on the seat next to me. Still. Inanimate. Yet, it mocked me. I wish I could just make it go away.
Finally, I grabbed the notebook and got out of the car. When I went in the house Mase was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal and reading a magazine.
“Where’re the kids?” I figured I would try this “calm” act again.
“They’re off somewhere.”
I looked over at him. He was sitting there, eating his bowl of cereal. Not a care in the world. For some reason that made me mad.
“Mase.” I shouted his name. He looked at me startled. “Now, I guess when I cook you won’t be hungry.”
He attempted to protest but had a mouth full of cereal and muffled words
tumbled out. I walked over to the sink and there were several other dishes, skillets and pots in the sink. I really didn’t think I’d been gone that long.
“So what, Mase?” I pointed to the sink. “The cereal is your dessert?”
“I’ll eat whatever you cook.”
“Yeah, I bet you will,” I said.
I hadn’t planned on cooking anyway.
“Where’ve you been?” He asked casually.
“I went to work. Then I just kind of drove around for a while then went to see Greg at his office.” I tried to be causal, too.
“Yeah, Greg called. Said you were having some kind of nervous breakdown or something right in his office.”
“He said that?”
“Yep.”
“What’d you say?”
“Just told him I would check out our medical coverage to make sure it covered mental health. I told him that I would never leave you just because you had become mentally unsound, but just in case, maybe he should draw up some papers for us before you become fully incompetent.”
I mustered up a smile.
“So you want to tell me about this? Or do you want to just go around flipping out in the middle of Downtown Cleveland and keep it to yourself?”
I looked at him. One gift my husband had always given me was his time and understanding. He would listen to me attentively, and he would hear what I was saying. Walking over to the kitchen table I sat down.
“It’s about the manuscripts.” I laid the notebook on the table and pushed it toward him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening.”
I started to cry. Again.
“You know the notebook that I got from Mrs. Margulies contained the copy of the manuscript that I found in Jerusalem, right?” He nodded. “Well, once I translated it, I found that it contained some very surprising -” I took a deep breath. “Some very disturbing information.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.”
“Scared of what? Is this information that terrible?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t think so but I’m the only one in the world who knows this. I’m a historian and now I know something that I don’t want to tell anyone. I want to hide it. To put it in a cave in the middle of the desert and pray that no one finds it. Ever.” I stood up as I talked and began to pace the floor like I had done in Greg’s office.
Mase watched me. “So, why can’t you tell anyone?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“Because no one would believe me. Everyone would think I’m crazy.”
“A lot of us already do.”
“And, ridicule me.” I hoped no one had been ridiculing me.
“Really?”
“Yes, really and we, well at least I, would be the laughing stock of the century, of all eternity.” I started to cry more. I went over in front of the kitchen sink and leaned against the counter.
“Don’t cry, Justin.” He got up and came and stood in front of me. Wiping my tears with the palm of his hand, he put his arm around me.
“It’s what I found out.” I looked up at him. “They played God, Mase.”
“Who played God?”
“I can’t explain it. I couldn’t explain it to Greg. I don’t think I can explain it to anyone. Here, you read it.” I walked over to the kitchen table picked up the notebook and offered it to Mase. Instead he grabbed my hand and headed out of the kitchen.
“How about if we go to your study? We can talk more comfortably there. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
“Well, we’ll get interrupted soon enough.” I wiped the tears out of my eyes and looked down at my watch. “The kids will probably come in any minute. I’m surprised they’re not here already.”
“No they won’t interrupt. They won’t be here.” I looked at him. “After Greg called and told me that you had lost all of your marbles and was headed home, I had Claire come and get them. They’re spending the night with her.”
I smiled at him. He’s so smart. I feel so bad that he has such a crazy wife. He really doesn’t deserve all of the grief I pile up on him.
“Did you tell her about my little breakdown?”
“Babe, we all know how you are. Really, it’s okay.”
“Speaking of which, maybe I should call Greg and let him know I made it home okay.”
“I already called him. I called after I saw you sitting out in the driveway.”
“You saw me sitting out there?” He nodded. “And you didn’t say anything?”
“Nope. Figured you’d come in the house eventually. And, even if you didn’t, I thought I could at least let Greg know you weren’t out there somewhere, in your car, hysterical, runnin’ over folks.”
I had acted a little bizarre.
“So, before I start reading this thing,” he took the notebook from me, “why don’t you tell me about it first?” We walked into my study and he pulled off my jacket, threw it across my desk and sat me down in a chair.
“Ha, I don’t even know how or where to begin.”
“Well, I guess the Mad Hatter said it best -”
“Start at the beginning, go until you get to the end and then stop. Or something like that, right?”
“Right.” He nodded, smiling.
I knew exactly what he was thinking. I was beginning to get as corny as Mase.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Mase handed me back the notebook and sat across from me. He didn’t ask a lot of questions like Greg, his mind wasn’t always churning. He was more concerned with me getting out what I needed to say.
“So, tell me about this. What is it exactly?”
“You have to remember now, this is my interpretation. My words. Some of the Hebrew and Aramaic words that were in the manuscript don’t have English equivalents. And, the Latin I had to take as it came since Claire got it translated for me. And it doesn’t sound Biblical either.”
“What is that supposed to mean? It doesn’t sound Biblical?”
“You know like how the Bible was written.”
“Justin, tell me about what happened, not about the translation.”
“And, you’ll notice that the author repeats things a lot.” He gave me a look.
“Okay. Just hold on,” I said. “I know you wanna know what’s inside. But, first you have to realize that this is pure science.”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“Even though these manuscripts were ‘placed among the sacraments of God’ as Dr. Yeoman put it, they are not Biblical.”
“Justin, you already said that.”
“I know, but listen. It doesn’t describe Biblical events. This is apart from what God has done and the author makes that clear. This is the scientific continuation of life, not the creation of life. I can’t emphasize that point enough.”
Mase was tapping his foot and waiting with his hand outstretched for the book.
“Okay. Succinctly it -”
“Succinct? Can you be succinct?”
“Yes I can. Now just hold on.”
“Justin, stop talking to me like you’re teaching a class. Just say it.
“Okay. Succinctly, it answers many of science’s questions about ancient mysteries. Futuristically, the manuscript foretells of our planet’s destruction unless we heed the warning signs. Presently, it mirrors how we are today and depicts our life, because their life was exactly the same, you understand?”
“Yeah, Professor I got it. Now give me that book.” He snatched it out of my hands, stood up and turned his back to me. “Forget about your explanations. They are too long-winded. I’ll just read it myself.”
“Give it back.”
“No. I need to read this for my own curiosity. To see what made you even crazier than you already were.”
“Okay. Okay. But let me just tell you one more thing.”
“One more thing, Justin. You can tell me more thing then you are going to be
quiet and let me read this thing.”
“It’s about the meteorite.”
“Tell me, Justin.” He sat back down.
“Remember how Michael found out the stuff about the meteorite?”
“Yeah.”
“So, the meteorite theory hypothesizes that proof of life on Mars may have been brought down on the meteorite, which, of course, really stumped me because I don’t believe in evolution. How could we have come from an organism that came down from Mars on a rock, right?
“No evolution of man in this?” He tapped on the notebook.
“No. And, I went and did some research on my own, before I got the notebook. I found that some people believe that the meteorite did not contain evidence of a true organism because of the lack of DNA. They agreed with me, the theory of man evolving from an organism on a meteorite from Mars seemed far-fetched. So, I kept reading and I found out some things about Mars and Earth that really didn’t mean a lot to me until after I translated the manuscripts.”
“What I found is that there’s this theory that about four-and-a-half billion years ago Earth and Mars may have had almost the same atmosphere. Mars was most likely wetter and warmer than it is now for at least the first billion years or so. This theory hypothesizes that life formed here on Earth and on Mars, but it only flourished on Earth. And, in support of this theory, the photos taken in 1971 of Mars’ surface showed volcanoes, canyons, and dried river beds.” I stopped and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Mase said. “Does that mean something?”
“Yeah, it means what’s in this manuscript is true.”
“Well, I don’t know what’s in the manuscript because I haven’t had a chance to read it,” he said flatly.
“It means that life on Mars is possible because it had water. Then I found out that after they analyzed the meteorite, instead of the planets being on an even keel, or having the same atmosphere at the same time as originally thought, it was found that Mars is about a billion years ahead of us in its development. The meteorite is about four-and-a-half billion years old and rocks from Earth at that same stage of development are only about three-an-a-half billion years old. Mars developed before we did. You understand.” He nodded. “So, then what happened during the billion years when Mars was ahead of us in development?
In the Beginning: Mars Origin I Series Book I Page 20
