Mr. Kevron looked from the doctor to the Major. Maybe Major Hughes could help speed this up some, he thought, get to the part that had something to do with his job. “Jack? Where are we here?”
Major Hughes turned to the doctor, “Is that all the information?”
“Uhm, yes. I believe that’s the bulk of it.”
“Could you wait in the outer office there? I just need to speak with Mr. Kevron in private.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll just get my things.” He gathered up the reports, even the ones he passed out and hurried out the opened door where Major Hughes had stationed himself.
“Our concern here,” Major Hughes started speaking before he even got back to his seat, “is that we can’t let Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public worry that some alien being will come and destroy them with ‘nuclear ray guns’ or the like. We need to have time to find out what exactly happened up there.”
Mr. Kevron took in a breath, puffed out his cheeks and blew it out. “This is what the people want. ‘Star Trek – to go where no man has gone before,’” he said. “Personally, I think it’s a bunch of hogwash. We are far superior to any other life out there, if in fact there is other life. You want my opinion on the matter, we are the only life in the universe and always will be until we colonize it.”
Major Hughes took a more forceful approach, oddly out of character and possibly bordering on insubordination. “I know that you have your personal views, and whatever they are, are of no consequence to the matter at hand. I was ordered to relay to you, that our concern is for the public. The public is unable to handle things of this nature. We must lay it out for them and tell them how we want them to see it. And,” Major Hughes continued, “we must be in position, when we do come in contact with aliens, as not to allow outside influences to thwart the success of our defense. Precedence must be our rule of thumb. History dictates our actions. We know what must be done. The public cannot handle certain information and they must be dealt with delicately, otherwise, it could very well lead to mass mania and public hysteria. Add nuclear capabilities to an alien scare, Mr. Kevron, and we have disaster.”
“Yes, it would be a disaster.” Mr. Kevron could tell that Mr. Hughes was genuinely concerned over the threat of an encounter with aliens. He even seemed frightened. He chuckled to himself, holding back the urge to laugh out loud.
“So, is that all?” He had heard enough of this ‘space invaders’ talk. Major Hughes nodded.
“Well, in that case, I’ll walk out with you. I need more coffee.”
Major Hughes sent Dr. Phillips on his way and he and Mr. Kevron went back through the CI’s office to leave the same way Mr. Kevron had entered that morning. As Major Hughes stepped off the private elevator at the first floor, Mr. Kevron pushed “B” again for the basement. As the doors closed he heard Major Hughes remark, “Well, thank goodness we are the only ones who know.”
EPILOGUE
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
June 1, 2000
“Well, thank goodness we are the only ones who know,” I said out loud. That was a comforting thought to me. Mase and I were the only ones that knew what the manuscripts revealed.
I sat on one of the two steps that led from my French doors to my flower garden. Soon it would be dusk, but for now the sun still beamed brightly in the beautiful blue, cloudless sky. I sat with my face toward it enjoying the warmth from the sun shining down on me.
It had been three years since I discovered Dr. Yeoman’s journal, and often those days still filled my thoughts. I never found out what happened as to why the research seminar ended so abruptly. I do know, though, that it didn’t have anything to do with the manuscripts that Dr. Sabir had discovered. And, I know that the manuscripts did not hold a curse.
No one killed anyone, no one is following me, and the entire Biblical community and its beliefs are not going to crumble because of these manuscripts. It may cause a mass panic when the world finds out its beginnings, but it will not hurt our belief in God. It may, in fact, be helpful. To know that Man has believed in God, even before the formulation of this earth, can only add to the Christian’s quest to spread the Word.
It was a comforting thought for me to know that “other forces in the universe” were not at work trying to undermine my efforts of finding out the truth. But now that I knew the truth, what was my obligation?
Aristotle wrote that ‘man is a living being capable of receiving knowledge,’ but was man capable of knowing what I knew?
I doubt it.
Mase came up with an idea. Instead of me making an announcement, or holding a press conference and just blurting it all out, he said, “Just write a book.” A work of fiction. Tell, but not tell. Sort of like what the Essenes and Dr. Yeoman did. Leaving clues but making them hard to find.
So that’s what I did. I wrote a book. Fiction. For the most part. People could believe it or not. I changed some of it to make the authenticity of it all - questionable. For instance, I said that the four manuscripts with the revelation came from Cave 4 and were translated and shown to the Editor-in-Chief in 1949. Actually, Cave 4 wasn’t discovered until 1952.
And of course names and events were changed, like Ghazi’s name, certainly of Arabic origin, not likely the name of a person to be living in Jerusalem. And, Dr. Yeoman winning the Nobel Prize in Science. No such category. They only award achievements in Chemistry, Physics, Literature, Physiology, Medicine and Peace. I put in stuff that I couldn’t possibly know, too, like how much NASA really knows about Mars. And, I added conversations, like Claire said, “for the dramatic effect.”
Kind of cowardly, huh?
Well, to ensure that that “coward” label stuck, I decided to use a pseudonym - - a nom de gare. I didn’t want to use my real name. I decided to use my grandmother’s maiden name. And, I always liked the name Abby, it means “gives joy” in Hebrew. I’d hope that this revelation would bring some sort of joy once it was out. “Abby Vandiver.” Yeah, that sounds good. No one would ever think it was me.
I hated doing it.
The book, where it’s important, tells the truth. Like there was life on Mars. That part is true. When I wrote that that life came here after they destroyed their planet. That part is true. And, when I wrote that they were not “aliens” but men and women, the same as me and you, that part is true, too. Each and every word of it.
But what is most important about these truths is that the how and whys of our ancient mysteries, thanks to the manuscripts, aren’t a mystery anymore. We now know exactly what happened.
I donated the notebook of the untranslated copy of the manuscripts to the University in Jerusalem a day after I finished the translation. I sent it to Ghazi and told him to make sure it got to the right people. That’s been a couple of years ago. I haven’t heard anything from the University about it, or from Ghazi, not even a ‘Thank You’ note. They probably never looked inside of it, just threw it in a drawer and forgot all about it.
Maybe my book will catch a following and someone will find out the truth from that.
But for right now it’s probably best no one knows. I don’t want to possibly destroy my family’s reputation and having them ridiculed for my sake. No one in the family knows the whole story. Greg knows the most. He knows that Man came from Mars. Well, at least he heard me say it. I don’t know if he really believed me. The only thing that he really believes is that I am definitely mentally deranged. I hadn’t really told Claire, either. I just told her I didn’t want to talk about it. The rest of my siblings never knew that I found the complete copy of the manuscript, so they didn’t know to ask. Everyone was so concerned about my mental well-being that they didn’t want to do anything that might send me back over the edge now that I was “doing so much better.” They all figured that just the mention of the manuscripts would probably do just that.
The book will be out before my birthday in August. I suppose I should be filled with butterflies or goose bumps knowing that I will be a published author and soon the ent
ire world will know the truth about Man’s origins.
Hmm, the truth.
I was thinking about writing a sequel. I only included the text of part of one of the four manuscripts. Maybe I’ll include the text of all four in the next book, tell the whole story. Plus, although I only imagined a big conspiracy, murder, treason and the like, those things actually happened during the planning and execution of our “migration.” Whether viewed as fiction or non-fiction (which it is), that story would be a thriller.
But could I go through that again? For so long I had been a torrent of emotions. Depression. Obsession. Paranoia. Insanity.
Yet, I don’t think this discovery would have interested me as much if there had not been that spurious void in my life. Maybe it was a good thing that I was in “such a mood.” There was no reason for the feelings that I had previous to me finding out about the manuscript, except maybe only to lead me to them.
I got up off the step and walked into the garden shed. I pulled out the garden hose, hooked it up to the faucet and turned on the water.
Maybe I had found my purpose in life. God’s plan for me.
I watered the flowers that lined the cobblestone path and thought about that for a moment.
Yeah. Maybe I would win a Nobel Prize.
There’s that arrogance again. I chuckled to myself. Like anyone will read my book as a work of history. More than likely they’ll burn it. I’ve got that same arrogance that destroyed our “Mother Planet” (the name I’ve adopted when referring to Mars, only when talking to myself or Mase of course). I suppose everyone has illusions of grandeur.
I turned off the water, kicked off my shoes and let my feet sink into the wet grass that edged my flower bed. I wiggled my toes.
I remember thinking once if we had the chance to do it all over again, live our lives, tend to our concerns – globally, we could get it right. Using the technology we have today, we ‘could create the perfect world’.”
“Create a perfect world.”
Funny. That was the same thing the author of the manuscripts had written. The thoughts of our ancestors were the same thoughts that I have today. Just like Mase said. We are all the same. No matter when and where we’re born.
I wiped each foot on the opposite pant leg of my denim Capri’s and slid them back in my pink flip flops. I left the hose lying in the grass. I’ll make Micah get it later.
I looked up at the setting sun, squinted my eyes, and stared at it for a while. I looked back down at my flowers, they glistened with the kiss of water on each petal.
I had been so concerned that I was living my life in vain, that my existence was meaningless. Now I know that it’s not. Every effort by Man leads us closer to God. And that is our purpose. It is our journey, our place in the full circle of life. The road that we as a species must all travel – from God back to God. What His purpose for putting us here was, I haven’t a clue.
But, I no longer feel as if I have some internal void, that I’m working against time and time is just running out. I have found that I was on the right path all along in trying to educate Man. It is Man’s purpose, and mine, to pass on the knowledge.
But without knowing of the manuscripts would we be, “Ever learning but never coming to the knowledge of the truth?”
I decided to put the hose back myself.
I walked back out through the grass to get the hose.
All those months I was running around chasing the meaning of those manuscripts and the meaning was right in front of my face. All the homeless people sleeping over manhole covers in the streets of downtown Cleveland. Teenagers, graduating from high school and can’t read. Families without enough to eat.
After Dr. Margulies’ death, I found that there were so many things that I hadn’t known about him. I had practically told him everything about myself, my problems and my dreams, yet I never took the time out to listen to him. I never knew that he wasn’t close to his mother or that his father died when he was young. I guess I was more like Ty than I ever realized or cared to admit. Consumed with my own problems and not taking the time to find out about other people’s problems.
My mother always says, “There was a man who was sad because he didn’t have any shoes until he met a man who didn’t have any feet.”
I never appreciated what I had. Always thinking I needed more. Just like those men on Mars.
Blind to my surroundings.
Just so involved with me.
Not anymore. I don’t take for granted that I have a good life. The things that are important. I have a good relationship with God and I have a good relationship with my family. A good, no, a very good - - absolutely the best, husband.
Sometimes when I read back over the things I wrote in the notebooks I had filled during my days of depression, I laugh. I mean really laugh. But my writings show me my strengths, my ability to persevere, and how I let the little incidents in my life envelope me and become a part of me. So, I learn from them.
I put the hose back in my old, rickety wooden garden shed and closed the door. I tried to secure it with the homemade lock that Mase made but I couldn’t get it. I left it unlocked. I’d make Mase come and fix it later.
I turned and headed back toward the house and I heard the slow, creaking sound of the shed door as it came back open. I went and sat on the stoop, looking up to the darkening sky.
I find that I pray much more than I used to, and I care more about world concerns. I recycle. I find time to volunteer as much as I can. I try to do just the little things. I’ve joined various humane groups and have dragged, initially kicking and screaming, my children, husband, parents and siblings with me. But they have ‘evolved’ into my way of things. I definitely don’t support any space missions and speak out against them whenever the opportunity arises. Because what? Are we just going to keep moving from planet to planet? We just need to fix the one we’re on.
On a larger scale, Claire and I decided to really help with the ills in our own backyard. There were several elementary schools in our area that closed and the buildings were unoccupied and wasting away. By twisting Greg’s arm we were able to come up with the financing to buy one of the buildings from the City and make it a homeless shelter. Claire is our resident doctor. Michael and Callie volunteer their time helping some of our ‘guests’ get their GED. Sean refurbished old computers for the shelter, and Doobie and Gerald did an excellent job of readying the place. And all of our children work there during school breaks. We have, of course, have not given up our regular jobs, and will eventually have to find someone to run it full-time. We’ve applied for government grants. Hopefully we can get some help. We plan on opening another center next spring.
We have all been so misinformed. Maybe that’s why we are destroying ourselves.
I remember Michael saying that through my work, I could make a contribution to a greater understanding of our beliefs today, and what the world will believe tomorrow. I hope the book would do that. Hopefully after learning of my discovery men will re-evaluate themselves. Rethink their control over their fate and learn the value of their planet, their home. I want man to realize that through hatred, ignorance and greed we are destroying our planet and this race, the one race we all share, the human race.
It was getting dark. The colors of my flower garden had completely faded in the enveloping night. I looked over at the opened garden shed door.
Why couldn’t Mase just buy a regular lock for the door? He thinks he’s so handy.
I called the book In the Beginning because it tells the truth of our beginnings. It’s only meant to complement the story of creation in the Bible. Not to take away from it. Like we all know, God did create Man, but the book clarifies that “in the beginning” He put them on Mars.
I stood up from the step and brushed the dirt off the back of my pants. I walked into my study through the French doors. I could hear the television on in the living room. I walked in there to see who was watching it. As usual it was playing to an empty room. As
I started to turn it off, a news broadcast caught my attention. It was a story on the second space vehicle sent to Mars for this series of planned missions by NASA. The newscast showed the launching of the probe and in a voice-over the newscaster explained that the probe was taking pictures of the surface of the planet, searching for signs of life and sending back more soil samples. It had been launched just this morning. It was being sent much earlier than planned.
Why were they sending up a probe for more soil samples? Dirt is dirt. What a waste of money, I thought.
The newscaster continued, “On the local front . . .”
Yes, the local news. Planet Earth. I know that they should spend money that they used on space travel for the preservation of life on this planet. Maybe, they will figure out my book is true and keep what happened on Mars from happening on Earth.
I know that they would not find life up there on that desolate red planet because “Martian life” now resides on Earth. Our ancestors were lucky. The planet next door was available. Another home for us may be light years away.
“Global warming,” the newscaster said, “is having an alarming effect on our atmosphere. In the worst case scenario, geologists predict that the poles, covered with glacial ice, could melt, causing flooding over the entire globe with pandemic ramifications for this planet. While this may be an event that won’t occur until sometime in the remote future . . .”
“God help us,” I said out loud. I reached over and turned off the TV.
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In the Beginning: Mars Origin I Series Book I Page 24
