“But you know better,” Quentin said. “You know the world isn’t ending, so what difference does it make?”
Samuel held his gaze without answering.
“Don’t tell me you believe him.”
“Perhaps not. But if the people of this tribe decide that their world will end, then I fear not only for them, but for all the peoples of this world.”
Samuel began walking, and Quentin followed.
“Why?” Quentin asked. “The substance you’ve found here will help people beyond anything I can imagine.”
Samuel cleared his throat as if preparing to say something important. “Quentin, are you familiar with the consequences of introducing uncivilized peoples to the civilized world?”
This took Quentin aback. “There are few people who understand it better than I do.”
Samuel gazed at him for a moment with raised brows. “Is that so?”
“My parents were anthropologists. They studied indigenous people here in New Guinea, and I know exactly what you’re referring to. People know of poverty because they have learned about personal possessions and money. People know shame because they were shown clothing. They live in fear because they were given modern weapons.”
Samuel nodded. “Consider the acts of missionaries. Their mission, so to speak, is to bring uncivilized peoples into the light of God and the civilized world. In doing so, such peoples are changed, never to be the same again. Some would argue this is for the savages’ own good. But I have come to realize that this is good only if one accepts that the indigenous state is inherently bad. Do you understand?”
Perhaps Samuel’s ideas were not so outdated. Quentin nodded. “As I said, better than most.”
“Suppose that we turn the situation about. Suppose that we—you and I, and the civilized peoples of this world—are the poor subjects of the missionaries. Suppose that we live our lives in such a way that suits us quite well, praying to our Gods, adopting rules by which to live in harmony, improving ourselves with scientific pursuits. And we are most content with this existence. In fact, there are some of us who would sacrifice much to preserve it.”
Quentin felt a tightness building in his throat. “You think the medicine you’ve discovered is meant to change us?”
Samuel nodded. “It is a gift.”
“A gift from who? God? I thought you said God had nothing to do with this place.”
“It is not a gift from God. God provides us with limits, and with humility. With the Lamotelokhai, there are no limits.”
Quentin stared at him. “No limits?”
Samuel nodded, his face grim. “Quentin, you must never leave this place, even if the indigenes decide you are the one to do so.”
The sensation started in Bobby’s gut. It wasn’t painful. It was more like the tingles you get when your foot falls asleep and then slowly wakes up. The sensation crept to his chest and up to his neck before he became frightened.
“What’d you give me?” he said to Mbaiso. The feeling entered his face, prickling his lips and warming his eyes. “What is it?” he nearly yelled.
As the feeling rose to his scalp, Bobby pressed his hands to his face. And then the wave of tingles stopped. He peeked through his fingers. The tree kangaroos were still there, watching him. Mbaiso raised one foreleg, moved it as if drawing the letter L in the air, and then repeated the action with the other foreleg, but like a reverse L.
This was a sign Mbaiso had shown him already. But this time, as the gesture ended Bobby saw something strange. The lines of Mbaiso’s body melted away, and an image of the kangaroo pulled free from his own body, rose from the ground, and hung in the air just in front of Bobby. It happened quickly. Mbaiso’s image floated there briefly, and then faded away.
“What the hell?”
Mbaiso signed again. Both arms moved at once, one of them drawing a letter L, the other drawing what looked more like a J with an extra coil at the bottom. Immediately Bobby saw another hallucination. This time one of the kangaroos behind Mbaiso popped up and floated before his face, then vanished. Suddenly it made sense. They were introducing themselves.
“No freakin’ way!” With shaking hands, Bobby copied the two opposite Ls and pointed at Mbaiso. He made the other sign and pointed at the second kangaroo. Finally, he pointed at the third kangaroo and waited.
Mbaiso’s forepaws drew another pair of signs in the air, this time a letter L and a circle with a squiggle through it. A likeness of the third tree kangaroo popped up and then vanished.
“I get it,” Bobby whispered.
The kangaroo named L and curly-J hopped forward and made a new sign. It ended with the two paws together, as if praying, and then slowly moving them apart several inches. As soon as the paws stopped, another hallucination appeared. The tree kangaroo’s likeness moved away from Bobby a few meters. The kangaroo repeated the sign, but separated his paws even farther. The creature’s likeness hopped away again, but farther than before.
Bobby copied it, but he spread his hands apart until there was a foot of space between them. There was no hallucination, but all three of the kangaroos hopped away into the brush and stopped about ten meters out. On a hunch, Bobby made the gesture again, but this time he passed his hands over each other and reversed the direction of separation. The tree kangaroos obediently returned to him.
Bobby smiled. He was learning their language.
Quentin and Samuel made their way around enormous sago and eucalyptus trees. The immense trees must have been why the Papuans had chosen this location for their village.
“Samuel, how did you end up in this place, anyway? If you started your life with these villagers as long ago as you say—what, back in eighteen sixty or something like that?”
“Eighteen hundred and sixty-eight, actually.”
“If you started living with them then, how did you get here, to this location? There weren’t many explorers who penetrated the interior back then.”
“At that time their village was far to the north, near the port of Hollandia where I made my residence. I first encountered them on a collecting trip. An assistant of mine, Charles Newman, accompanied me. The young man had only recently arrived from London. We had chanced to hear stories of a place the local villagers rarely entered. They told us that those who visited there never returned. As a naturalist, this interested me. I gave no thought to their superstitions. I saw an opportunity to collect specimens rare even to the locals themselves. And so we set out to enter the region. With three of my boys, whom I employed to assist in collecting and carrying, Charles and I ventured inland, making our way along the river. We traveled six days, as we were instructed to. When we approached our destination all signs of mankind gave way to a pathless wilderness. The area appeared to be uninhabited.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“Correct,” Samuel said. “Upon entering the area, we encountered creatures that were most assuredly new to science. My assistant Charles shot several aiyals: bandicoots, which seemed to hold no fear of man. And then he shot a tree kangaroo. That is when our good fortune expired. We found ourselves surrounded by indigenous Papuans, quite unlike any I had seen before, who proved to be as dangerous as they were silent. Almost immediately, they murdered poor Charles. My boys tried to run but were stabbed to death without so much as a word spoken. I feared for my life and kneeled to them, determined on appearing agreeable.
“And then something astounding happened. The mbolop, which I was certain was shot dead by Charles, awoke, and it approached me as I kneeled in the mud waiting for my death. This may seem difficult to conceive, but sure as I attribute the death of my companions to the shooting of the mbolop, I also attribute my own survival to that very creature. The tribesmen I faced were much influenced by the tree kangaroos, as they are to this day.”
“Which is why they make these figurines of them,” Quentin said, pulling the troublesome object from his pocket. “I suppose I insulted them somehow by having
one?”
“It is not that you insulted Matiinuo so much as you confused him. The talisman you hold once belonged to him. It is a possession that an Elder does not readily give up. But he did give it away, and soon after it was lost under the most unfortunate circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
Samuel hesitated. “I have told you of the poor fellow, Peter.”
“Yes. Who exactly was Peter?”
Samuel sighed. “As I have said, Peter found his way to the village of my hosts, quite by accident. He was allowed to live for some time. The villagers held hopes that Peter could understand the Lamotelokhai. Matiinuo even gave him the mbolop talisman, a sign of the highest regard.” Samuel looked at the ground. “Peter became a friend to me. But then he insisted on leaving the village.”
“The Papuans killed him, didn’t they?”
Samuel responded only with a blank stare.
“So they let you live, and you remained here for all these years? Why?”
Samuel leveled his gaze at Quentin. “I quickly learned that the indigenes possessed a substance with extraordinary medicinal qualities. When they shared it with me, I experienced the most pleasing advantages. As with Peter, they held hopes that I might understand the Lamotelokhai, and that I might communicate with it.” With these last words, Samuel gave Quentin a guarded look. “You see, the indigenes will not themselves communicate with the Lamotelokhai. Long ago they determined that to do so results in misfortune and bereavement. But they do wait for a man to come who will assume the obligation of doing so. And to some extent I could. But evidently I was not the one they had been waiting for. I faced the dilemma of becoming useful to them or suffering the same fate as the others in my party. I had no more freedom to leave this tribe than you now do. Or that Peter did. I chose to be useful, and to devote my scientific efforts to ascertaining the potentials of the Lamotelokhai. For all the answers that I uncover, however, more questions are revealed. The Lamotelokhai is most mysterious, and very dangerous.”
“What do you mean, dangerous?”
“In recent years, my questions concerning the substance’s capabilities have become more earnest, and the results of my investigations more pervasive and treacherous. I have concluded that there will be, quite literally, no limits to the capabilities of the man who unlocks the particulars of its true nature.”
“And you want to be that man. You’re helping them hide this thing, aren’t you?”
“You think me to be self-interested. But I know I am not that man. My indigene hosts believe a man will come who will converse with the Lamotelokhai in ways that I cannot, and will then take it from this place, essentially bringing their world to an end, or turning the world upside down, as they put it. They accept this as inevitable truth. I suspect that they believe you may be this man, which explains why you are alive at this moment. But I am not so convinced as they are. I mean no contempt, Quentin, but you and those in your party do not lead me to believe that society has progressed to such a state of civilization that the Lamotelokhai’s properties would be utilized safely and sensibly.”
Quentin regarded him. “You decided this after knowing us for two days?”
“As I said, I mean no contempt. When you have learned more of the Lamotelokhai, I trust you will agree that it should remain hidden from those who would suffer its temptations. So strongly do I hold this to be true that I convinced the tribe to migrate far inland to avoid inevitable encounters with civilized peoples. In the fifty years after my capture, I moved with my hosts to no less than four new home territories, each one more remote than before. At last we settled here, a place I was sure would not yield to strangers. Wandering souls of Papuan descent, yes. But for many years no civilized men, until Peter—and now your own party.”
“But you must have known civilization was closing in on you, from all the planes flying over.” Quentin recalled again that he still hadn’t seen or heard a plane since the crash.
“I have indeed seen such things. A means of travel long anticipated by imaginative thinkers. But until now these vessels passed over us harmlessly.”
Abruptly, Samuel stopped walking. He gazed into the forest ahead of them and then spoke loudly, “Noadi, gu mbakha-lekhé wa-mol-mo?”28
Quentin followed his gaze. Noadi, the Papuan who’d pierced Quentin’s chest with his spear, stood in their path. Noadi approached them cautiously. He was not carrying his spear. Instead he held what appeared to be a cord strung with white teeth.
“Gu mbakha-lekhé wa-mol-mo, Noadi?” Samuel repeated.
“Nu if-e-kha misafi gup-tekhé fédo-p. Nokhu-yanop-tu.” As he spoke, Noadi nodded at Quentin, and then at the string of teeth in his hands.29
Samuel frowned. “He would like for you to see something he has made. This is most unusual. It is rarely moved from its place of security.”
Noadi stopped before Quentin, looking him squarely in the eye. He grinned broadly.
“Nokhu-yanop-tu,” Noadi said. His singsong voice held no threat. He pulled the string of teeth open before Quentin and spoke rapidly. The cord was long, with perhaps two hundred teeth. The teeth were quite large, probably taken from crocodiles since no other large predators were found in New Guinea. At one end of the string the teeth were much larger, some of them ten centimeters in length—too large for even the most impressive crocodiles Quentin had seen. Noadi held the string of teeth closer, and Quentin saw that they were each etched with a picture. Intrigued, he moved closer and reached for the strand.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Quentin, I wouldn’t…”
Noadi’s eyes grew wide, but then he handed it over. “Nokhu-yanop-tu.” Noadi sat on the ground and gestured for Quentin to sit across from him. As Quentin settled onto the ground, Samuel exchanged words with the Papuan.
“Noadi believes it is important to show this to you. I lived among these people for many years before I was allowed to see it.”
Quentin looked closer. The level of detail of the etched images was astonishing. “What exactly is it?”
“It is an account of the history of the tribe. Each tooth shows an event of significance.”
Noadi pointed to the larger teeth at one end of the cord and spoke rapidly. The first tooth showed three people in the forest. Beyond them was water, perhaps the ocean. They appeared to be hunting, carrying weapons and game. The image wrapped around the back of the tooth and Quentin lifted it to see underneath. The hunters were confronting a palm tree with a large bulge in the trunk.
Quentin looked at the next tooth. The image was unmistakable. It was a Papuan man, suspended against a background of stars. Quentin turned it over. There was the Earth, drawn in great detail, standing out prominently against the stars. The image even revealed continents, misshapen in the same pattern that Quentin remembered from his dream.
“The dream!” Quentin said.
“Indeed,” Samuel said. “A consequence of the Lamotelokhai.”
“I’ve never seen artistry like this, Samuel, not unless it was created with the help of microscopes and lasers. How do they do this?”
“These are a people of extraordinary patience, as they do not grow old. I have known Noadi to labor for eight years on the design of one tooth. The pictures represent hundreds of years of efforts, and the events they show occurred throughout thousands of years. I believe that the tribe discovered the Lamotelokhai on the northern shore of New Guinea ten thousand years ago, perhaps more.”
“Ten thousand years? What evidence do you have of that?”
“It could be much more. But details I have assembled from their narratives suggest this. Also, observe the crocodilian teeth before you. Notice how the teeth decrease in size from one end to the other. It is not only a record of depicted events, but also a record of the species of crocodiles available to the artist. Such significant change requires many thousands of years.”
Quentin’s mind reeled. Papuans were thought to have traveled in boats to
New Guinea at least forty thousand years ago, one of the oldest cultures isolated from the rest of the world. To think that this was a detailed pictorial history of such a span of time was beyond belief. If so, the value of the string of teeth before him would be immeasurable.
“I have scrupulously pieced together a scanty picture of historical events,” Samuel said. “But these people are very shy, often unwilling to discuss matters at length, if at all. And the elder, Matiinuo, whom you have met, is the only tribesman living today who lived when they discovered the Lamotelokhai. Matiinuo is notoriously difficult to talk to.”
Quentin stared at him. “You’re not trying to tell me Matiinuo is ten thousand years old.”
“No,” Samuel replied. “Most likely much older. Ten thousand is only a moderate guess.” He returned Quentin’s gaze without faltering.
“Jesus Christ,” Quentin muttered. He looked more closely at the teeth. There were depictions of hunting and fishing, and what might have been a marriage ritual. One image near the beginning of the string caught Quentin’s eye. It showed a frightening creature that resembled a man, but with longer arms and a stooped posture. In one hand the creature held what appeared to be a human head, and the ground around it was littered with bodies. Gazing at the tiny scene, Quentin felt a chill.
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