The Prophesy: Book 4 - Armageddon

 

Harold decided it was more then due he had a look at the Pterodactyls. He paid them a visit and was astounded by the change in their appearance: from their dull, rather uniform colours, they had grown into a diverse group, with the males clearly showing pre-nuptial colours. Harp, Sitar and the other members of the family not outside the Kingdom were watching the activity from an observation promontory that was composed of a long tunnel allowing for one-way observation without being observed in return.

"Why did you do that?" asked Harold, as he looked at the intense activity below.

"I noticed our presence was getting on the Pterodactyls. I changed the configuration slowly over the past month along the planned migratory route. We can now walk all the way from one end to the other unseen and observe the Pterodactyls."

"When do you think they will begin their virtual migration?"

"Any day now, dad. Their anxiety level is rising, and they are probably waiting for a wind pattern. I programmed for a dominant south-east wind today, so it should be good."

"What do you expect?" asked Violin.

"I think they are waiting for dawn. The virtual sun should be up in three minutes. Their level of activity is increasing by the second."

The observers, which included quite a few members of the Ark project and curious onlookers, waited with as much impatience as the Pterodactyls the Sun's first rays. As it made its appearance over the virtual horizon, the Pterodactyls began taking flight, as they had been doing every morning ever since they had been moved into their own tessaract. First the females took off and climbed slowly, circling the colony, then the males took off and joined them in a dance that seemed to search for something; as the sun heated the earth below, the birth of thermal drafts attracted the Pterodactyls, which used them to climb up ever higher.

"What is the virtual height of the tessaract?" asked Enron.

"Sixty thousand feet, compressed to six feet; the horizontal compression ratio is even more important, as you will see when we walk along the migratory path," replied Harp.

The Pterodactyls began organizing themselves in huge V formations comprising several thousand dinosaurs layered in stages before resolutely turning south and engaging the migration.

"It's a go! I was worried I had made an error!" said Harp as the leading Pterodactyls began following the visual guides that mimicked the coastlines of their original homeland. By then, the entire colony was flying at a steady three hundred and fifty miles per hour air speed, meeting with varied crosswinds and weather conditions. Below them, the 'Earth' changed, mimicking the natural pattern while a face wind kept the Pterodactyls at relatively the same place relative to the Tessaract.

"How is this migration corridor organised?"

"Mom, I made it so that the Pterodactyls have the impression of flying over the coast of Australia. It is all an illusion. They will live the stress of migration but have covered less then two miles in reality to their nesting site. But since the compression ratio is one thousand to one or thereabouts, for them it's a two thousand mile flight. Whatever they try, it will always feel like two thousand miles."

"That still makes for a giant tessaract."

"Oh well, there are even bigger ones; the Oceanic one is even worse."

"I don't understand how this works."

"Piano, the principle is based on string theory. By manipulating the strings, I can adjust the compression ratio to whatever value I wish. We have more space in the tessaracts then there is area on the entire planet. We just did not move everything, because it is impractical. Nonetheless the more stuff we displace, the more stable the transplanted ecosystems will be."

"Have you ever considered doing the opposite, that is expand rather then compress?"

"It is possible, as is proven by the expansion of the universe, Violin. However, there is no reason for me to do so."

"Not even to know the intimate structure of matter?"

"I already know the intimate structure of matter, sis. How else could I safely manipulate magic without blowing everything up? I close my eyes, and I see the dance of matter and anti-matter as it pushes on the fabric of space, driving the expansion of the Universe, pulling on the strings that keep this Universe tied together like we pull on an elastic band. I see atoms resonate with each other, bind and unbind; the glue of the Universe pulling the atoms together while other forces try to tear them apart; particles created and annihilated in the same instant, static probability waves racing in the ever-expanding void of energy that is the essence of the Universe. I see its birth, I see its death and I, no, we, walk the line joining the Alpha and the Omega. You have seen the future in the last Pyramid while you underwent your Rite of Passage. You may not have understood what it meant, but you still must know in depth how that this Universe will meet its end when the forces that pull at the elastic of the strings breaks them."

"How long will that migration take?" asked Amethyst, as she eyed the Pterodactyls fight it with a storm Harp had concocted for their benefit.

"Some twelve hours for a distance of about four thousand miles. It's not that bad. Arctic sterns caused me a lot more trouble with their forty thousand miles migration! These damn birds follow a heart-shaped migratory path along the coasts of the old and new continents on their way south then along the Atlantic dorsal on their way north! It was a pain to design the proper tessaract pattern!"

"Let's go visit the Matriarch. It's a beautiful sight to see the Pterodactyls fly, but I don't think I'm that fascinated by them to stay here twelve hours," decided Harold.

***

As Harold walked in the Nest, he reintroduced himself to the Matriarch. After some civilities, he came to the reason for his visit.

«Matriarch, I have not visited you or your nest as often as I wished I had. Is the Nest still to your liking?»

«It is very satisfactory Patriarch. I have been receiving body care I never thought possible to have; my eggs are held steadily in place, the temperature gradient is fine. Dryness is optimal. How about your nest?»

«I have no issue with the nest for now, even if the weather outside would stand for some improvements.»

«I understand you had tasks to accomplish.»

«Yes, my children are doing their best to finish the task on time. The Architect is completing the assembly of the Mother Nest, of which your nest is now part of. It should be done on time.»

«Has the one that offered shelter finished?»

«No, Ian is not back yet. It seems he is experiencing unexpected difficulties. I am not worried about it. We know what is happening.»

«I understand. I have given considerable thought to the offer of gaining the sense of sight. I do not understand how it would be done. I wish to understand before agreeing to it. And if it is possible, I would like to know if my progeny could benefit of this as well before making my final decision.»

«I will forward your concerns to my sons. After all, it is they that would do the procedure, not I.»

«Is that so? Why?»

«They have a much deeper understanding of life and how it works then I.»

«Carbon-based life forms are really strange if the younger ones know more then the older ones. I have difficulty grasping this concept.»

«Let us just say that Harp, one of my sons, brought back to life a dead hatchling, something even I cannot do still.»

«He did what?» replied the Matriarch, shock quite apparent in her mental exchange.

«I understand your shock. I was as shocked as you, especially since I was present when it occurred and he was much younger then he is now. His explanations were short at best. All he said was to the effect that he went beyond the veil to get him and bring him back.»

«He went beyond the veil and came back with an essence of life! That is indeed news of the utmost importance. In our species there is a prophecy, something which is extremely rare, in fact it is the only one. It is repeated over and over to all Matriarchs. Let me recite it for you, Patriarch of Patriarchs. Far from home, meet the Fetcher of Life, the One able to go Beyond the End and come back with the Essence of Life, for thee is the One that will bring to us what was Lost at the Beginning, the Gift freely Given and Sacrificed so we could Hide our Eggs from the Destroyers! Gift freely given, Gift freely returned, sheltered from within. Matriarchs! Follow the One, for whole you shall be again!»

After long minutes of silence, the Matriarch spoke again.

«My decision is made. I will entrust my life to the One. I cannot deny my people the Gift that was Taken.»

«Then I will inform Harp of your choice. It may not be done right away, but it shall be done.»

«Time is of little importance. We have waited for this for so long we lost count of the number of stars that died since that prophecy.»

«I must now retire to handle more mundane issues, Matriarch. Rest assured of our unconditional support.»

«I have no doubt about this, Patriarch of Patriarchs. You are the Father of the One, and that alone speaks louder then thoughts!»

Harold returned to his suite, and wondered how he would bring that prophecy to Harp's attention. He did not know how to interpret the entire titbit, but he knew for certain it had more then one meaning. And how come the Seraphrims, who, according to the Matriarch, had no capable prophets, were in possession of that one? Prophetic powers were apparently rare, and the Atlanteans were fortunate in having so many amongst their people.

***

Ian and his group had reached the source of the Napo, close to the now completely destroyed ancient city of Quito, and Ian was relieved.

"This marks the half-point of this unending expedition. We go back down and turn our attention to the Ucayali and its main affluent the Marañón. Remember, this is where Harp saw these dwarf Orcs. We need to redouble our attention. Contrary to the humans, we must first assess whether these Orcs are salvageable or not."

"What are Orcs?" asked a curious Colibri.

"Orcs are the result of genetic experiments done by the Crocodile Priests turned bad. That is one thing we have yet to see here, and that really surprises me."

"If you are talking about the green-scaled two-legged devils, they are hunted down without mercy the moment they are seen. All tribal rivalry vanishes as soon as one is seen. That is probably why you had so many problems with the tribes, since you do have green scales and you walk on two legs. You are the epitome of our ancestral enemies."

"We picked green because it gave us better camouflage! Talk about a strategic mistake!"

"No use crying on spilled milk, Hildegard. We only need to change colour. Colibri, what would be the best colour to prevent further misunderstandings?"

"I do not know how to answer that. I do not understand the meaning of the question, my lord."

"Colibri, I told you to forget the lord thing. Let me show you what I mean," replied Ian.

Ian first changed to a black dragon boy. The reaction was shock, and the fear in Colibri's eyes told him more then anything this was not the colour of choice. He then turned red, and the boy, a little less shocked, replied:

"That is a nice trick, Ian; however I doubt that fire will be a welcomed sight, even if it walks on two legs. Fire is destructive."

Ian then took his golden boy look, wondering if he would have to go through the entire radiation spectrum. However, Colibri's hugs gave him a better answer then any word.

"This is so beautiful! You really are the symbol of Life, the Sun walking the Earth. No one will ever confront the Live-giver!"

"It is settled then. Gold it is. Anyway it is also my favourite colour. I was wondering if I would have to take on the colours of the rainbow, in stripes!"

"Is it possible?"

Ian did not answer but just displayed his versatility by doing it, much to the amusement of the native boy. After intense hand clapping, Colibri asked:

"Will I ever be able to do that? It seems so fun!"

"When you have learned to bond with a Dragon, it will come naturally."

"After this show from our honourable leader, how about we progress with this mission?" Edwin asked.

"Spoil sport!" replied Ian, laughing.

The boys made quick work of the ride down to the mouth of the Ucayali. As they travelled to it, carried by the stream, Colibri's reaction to the Black Dragon colour bugged Raja. Finally, he couldn't hold his question anymore.

"Colibri, why did you react so fearfully when Ian took the black colour?"

"There is a legend, repeated in our tribe from mother to child well before the Plague wiped our tribes and forced us to take refuge in the Valley of the Sacrificial Rock. That legend says there were flying Snakes, black as night, as ferocious as the jaguar, stronger then the boa, that roamed the skies and preyed on us. If you saw their red eyes at night you never saw the light of day ever again. They once nested in the mountains, but there was a Great War of the Dragons and they were pushed from their nests. For a long time, the Black Dragons tried to come back, but each time, the other dragons pushed them away."

"That legend will certainly interest Typhoon," commented Edwin.

"Why would the King of the Dragons be interested by that story?"

"I am not sure of the genealogy of the Royal family, but I think either his dad or his granddad fought in that war," replied Raja, much to the awe of Colibri.

"Raja, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"I had several bad dreams about Black Dragons over the years. Why is that so?"

"What did these dreams show you?"

"At first there was a Great War, and the Black Dragon ate the Sun Child; then there was a long time were all was dark. Later the Black Dragons were so few there were only two, that kept fighting for the land. One of the Dragons lost his protection against the Sun Father and burned for flying too close to his tongue of fire. The sole surviving Black Dragon, the one that had swallowed the Sun, thought it was immune to its purifying fire but, after fighting the Dragon Sun, it met the Fire of the Sun Father's blade that pierced it and spilled its guts. There, it had to spit the Sun out but it was too late, it died while retching the burning Sun out of its ravaged guts that were falling on a dead black land. I know, it doesn't make sense, but dreams never seem to make any."

As Colibri exposed his dreams, Ian's eyes grew ever wider. Finally, as the young boy became silent, he could not help but whistle.

"Holy shit! That is remarkable! Colibri, your dream played out both ancient, very ancient history, and contemporary history. You saw the Black Dragon female absorb a Soul-Eater that tried to escape an attempt by these monsters to regain control over humanity by using an anti-matter bomb, the Sun child. Later, much later, the only surviving male Black Dragon effectively lost his magic and was destroyed by my big brother Harp with the help of his magic blade, or more precisely his stave, Bata, which is in effect his walking stick and weapon of choice. Shortly thereafter, my brother's love used an axe to split the Black Dragon female after it had just about managed to corner the Dragon King, which, incidentally, is a Gold Dragon, the father to my bonded. The axe cut the Black Dragon's wings and slit it open lengthwise, spilling its guts all over the dead land. It did spit back what it had eaten, but that was the Soul-eater, not the Sun's son. The soul-eater got encased in a prison he will only be able to escape from in a very far future. By then it will be too weak to do harm."

After this revelation, the group kept silent, and their attention was introspective. Colibri's dream had been a shock to all the Atlanteans. They kept exchanging glances with each other and looking at Colibri. That boy had been quite a find. Colibri was well aware of the furtive glances, and the smiles the Gods gave him each time he peeked at them, but he decided to focus on their trip rather then dwell on what this all meant. Colibri was a pragmatic. What will be, will be was his way of thinking.

They reached the mouth of the Ucayali that evening and set camp on a small island in the middle of the Amazon. Well aware of the risks of nightly attack, the Atlanteans set a protective ward around camp, reminding Colibri of the absolute necessity to stay within the bounds of the camp, whatever the night might bring. The boys lit a small fire, roasted some fish and plantain before retiring for the night.

As he kept watch with Raja, Colibri was fascinated by the incessant buzz of an insect burning against that strange and invisible wall that protected their camp. The first sign that things would get interesting that night was a sudden loud buzz and a bang. It had come from well above their campfire, now reduced to low ambers. Raja looked up and shrugged.

"Bats. I hope they don't insist. I may have to change the wards to port them elsewhere. We do not mind destroying insects, but bats are another matter. Anyway, a cascade of loud bangs would attract attention."

"How did you see it was a bat?"

"I'm a Dragon, remember? The red eyes in the dark are not the sole apanage of the Black Dragon, Colibri. The Black Dragon could see in the dark as clearly as you can in daylight. When you could see his red eyes, it was really too late to escape. I have the same capacity."

Just then another bang occurred, followed by several others. Raja stood up and eyed the nuisance.

"I'll let one fly through the ward. I need to capture it to get its signature. Stay down. I'll put a shield around you for a minute or two. Do not move."

Colibri did as was told and watched Raja stand still. Suddenly he saw Raja move so fast he thought his eyes had tricked him. After a few minutes Raja sat beside him, holding the bat firmly in his hand.

"I've adjusted the wards. They will bounce off but never be able to enter. I've also made the ward visible to their echo-locator. That should reduce the number of hurt bats."

Colibri was staying as far as possible from the bat as he could, given his confinement in a ward.

"What's the problem? You seem scared?"

"That is a vampire bat. They drink the blood of sleeping travellers until they are drier then a dead tree!"

"Oh. Is that why it tried to bite me repeatedly? Sorry little bat, but your batting average just dropped considerably. You might as well try to suck blood from a tree, you would have a better chance!"

"What will you do with it?"

"Send it to the Ark. It will be safe and contribute its share to the ecosystem rescue mission." A flick of the hand and the bat disappeared, much to the comfort of Colibri.

"I need to do a small adjustment to the ward still. I'm going to send one out of one thousand of these bats to the Ark so we have a basic viable population with a wide enough genetic variability for a sustainable population."

Raja stood again, and quickly made a fine adjustment to the ward. Now, each time a bat disappeared it did so silently, with a flash of light that could be taken for a falling star from a distance.

"There we are. Now, let's rest. Colibri, sleep a bit, tomorrow may be difficult."

The night continued unperturbed, with Hildegard replacing Raja as matins began. The night was accompanied by a cooling which provoked a rather persistent rain, but Colibri slept right through it, protected by the portable hut that amazed him. As the sun peeked over the horizon, Ian shook the boy awake, and gave him a hot meal.

"It's going to be a wet day. Rain has been rare lately; I think this will be a wake-up call for all manners of stinging insects. As soon as you are finished eating, go to the temporary banana leaf hut we made last night and do your morning duties. Dump, piss, and then wash up your penis, your butt, your hands and your face with the water in the basin using the washcloth. It will vanish as soon as you throw it on the floor to be replaced with a new one, so be sure to change washcloth as you change body region. The water itself contains soap and is instantly replaced the moment you take the washcloth out to use it. Then go to the pirogue to wait for us. You will be protected from insects for the duration. Do not bother about anything. Everything will vanish as soon as it leaves your body. We could do it directly, but you might worry needlessly so we prefer letting you do it naturally."

Colibri did not understand the ritual, but he had learned to obey all his life, and that was a God talking to him after all. He had to admit it felt good to wake up with fresh water and to wash away the sleep out of his eyes. He had done the ritual every morning ever since they had taken him with them, and it was not today he would be stubborn. And then, they also supplied water that did not taste like mud, or carried bugs or insects in it as he had been used to before. It was so clear he could not even see it! What had he been drinking all his life if that was the true colour of water? He knew the Gods would dive in the river, and eat their fill of piranhas but it was not something he was interested in sharing with them! That morning, he watched with fascination as, after literally clearing the area of piranhas, the Gods took turns diving from hanging lianas, At one point, a forty-foot boa tried to attack the smallest God, which promptly took it by the head and tail and began using it as a rope to jump. The other Gods were laughing at the antics of their youngest member. Tired of playing with the snake, Ian banished it to wherever he banished all animals, that place he called Ark. Another dive in the river to refresh himself and the young God gave the signal of departure. The portable hut had already been promptly dismantled and packed, and was now stored in the bottom of that very strange pirogue.

***

The Yamato expedition, as it was now called, progressed slowly in the thick equatorial forest. It kept finding a wide variety of life. It seemed orcs had yet to reach its cover, and that kept the conversation lively. Everyone knew there were hordes of orcs in the open savannah, as the number of contacts between Spider patrols and orc patrols kept increasing daily. The Orcs never made it back to report these contacts, but Yamato was sure that their commanders were trying to piece the picture together. It was apparent that some reasoning was being put into the problem as the number of Orcs in each patrol also kept increasing.

"I wish we could find their nesting grounds. At least we could be proactive rather then wait for their next move!" said Williams, as they sat around the fire one evening.

"We would need an army of mages to scan every hole, and you know it."

"Not necessarily, Dunbar. I'm looking at how the orcs behaved during their offensive in the Kingdom, and I think I may have a solution."

"What is it?" asked Nestor, who had returned to their camp some days earlier, after checking on the College of Magic.

"You remember they tried to penetrate our defences by using the least resistance route. The moment they felt a defence was weak, they would pour their troops against that weak point and force us to either reinforce it or back away."

"Yes. It was apparent from the start, but where are you going with this?"

"Nestor, let's reverse their logic. We want to attack them at the core right?"

"Yes, but I fail to understand where you are going with this line of reasoning."

"Where did we offer the most resistance when they assaulted us?"

"Where we thought a gain might give them a too big strategic advantage?" replied Dunbar.

"Exactly. Let's assume that the Orcs do the same. What would be their most strategic asset?"

"Their nests, since they do not have cities or other infrastructures?"

"You are on the dot, Williams. They will throw everything they have in protecting the nests, and the access to them. My idea is to fan out Spiders and test their strongest resistance point. The stronger the resistance, the closer to the nesting grounds we are."

"That is an interesting proposition, but do we have enough Spiders for the task? Africa is vast."

"Dunbar, what did we learn from the nesting habits of the orcs in America?"

"Let's see. They nest underground; they nest in rocky areas with cliffs so they can climb up and enter, making direct ground assault of the entrances difficult; they hide these entrances remarkably well. And their nests are very deep, well out of the heat or, in the case of America, the cold of the atmosphere."

"So what do you conclude from this very succinct but remarkably accurate list?"

"We need to search for cliffs of a minimum size, made of solid rock," said Nestor.

"Yes. That and the fact that they will see us coming from their vintage point on the cliffs will help us pinpoint the nests. The closer we will get to one of these cliffs, the more likely we will encounter stiff resistance."

"And what do we do when we find one?" asked Williams. "I doubt rocks or even C4 plastic bombs will do much damage."

"I know that. It's here that Nestor comes into play. Have you mastered the technique used by the Royal family to see through rock?"

"Yes, but I get tired quickly."

"It doesn't matter, Nestor. Once we have a cliff in our sight, you will be dropped on the top after the dragons have torched it, and you will scan the cliff from the top as silently as possible. You will mark the tunnels from the top and indicate the nesting area. Once this is done, you get picked up, and we reduce the tunnels and the nest to collapsed cavities by precision bombing of the targets you have marked beforehand. Since this certainly will not be a day-long operation, you will have all the time required to rest before we can pinpoint another cliff for analysis by your magic."

"What if they have a topside exit and pop up out of the ground?"

"Nestor, damn it, use defensive wards. You are supposed to be a mage after all, old as dirt as you are!"

"I see that Harp has been giving you lessons in niceties!"

"Yes, and I find his string of swear words refreshing. I never laughed so much as the day he cornered a legate and let him have it for making a strategic mistake during an exercise. He has such vivid imagination!"

"Sometimes, Yamato, I wonder if it really is imagination. Remember he has access to our individual history at the tip of his unfathomable mind. I've also seen him dress down a mage once, and the reference to some, let's say, extracurricular activity to stay within acceptable language, was more then graphic, and clearly the mage in question remembered these events vividly."

"Anyway, how do you plan to implement that strategy?"

"We got eight legions of Spiders. That is more then enough to cover a wide ark. North of us is the desert belt, and we have not yet seen a single orc there. I can guess that either the sand is an insurmountable obstacle to them or the vast, very dry areas that lead to the Sahara are. There are cliffs, but they are probably not of sufficient size to fit the need of the orcs. That too might explain their lack of involvement in the area. I plan to displace all the centuries now stationed in that area to join the ones in the south, save one, which will move closer to insure close proximity protection to our camp."

"When?"

"Tonight. It is always preferable to make strategic moves under the cover of darkness, just in case there might be unfriendly eyes watching."

"The armoured officers won't be pleased."

"The hell if I care, Dunbar! All they need to do is sleep, tied in their hammock, while the Spiders do their run. If they aren't happy, I can always send them back to Thebes to run in the snow! I'm sure running in cold wet cinders with sandals will bring their temper's temperature down! I have enough candidates fighting for a chance to sit their butts in a Spider to supply a hundred legions!"

***

The next morning, Harold made his way to the Pterodactyls' tessaract segment, accompanied by Jefferson and Enron.

"I thought you were studying under Harp's stiff rod?" he enquired.

"Oh, he has a stiff rod all right between the legs, every morning! Thorsten and Harp moaned all night. I thought they were sick, but they told me they were having fun. I don't understand why being sick can be fun?"

Enron and Harold laughed so hard at Jefferson's comment, Enron had to port to his suite to get new clothes. Jefferson was worried he had offended the nice boy who kept creating all these nice things for him out of thin air, and he began to cry. Harold picked Jefferson up and began wiping the tears.

"What's wrong, son?"

"Did I say something wrong?" Jefferson said, sniffling.

"What makes you think so?"

"Enron never goes away without hugging me first and saying goodbye."

"No, you did nothing wrong, Jefferson. I could smell that Enron went to the bathroom in his clothes because he was laughing too hard."

"Just like when I get tickled?"

"Yes."

"But I did not tickle him!"

"No, but your comment tickled his funny bone so much he peed."

"I don't understand. How can words tickle his funny bone, it's stored away in his pants?"

"Is that how he calls his penis?"

"Is that its real name?"

"Yes, Jefferson, that is its real name."

Harold suddenly realised how innocent Jefferson still really was, even with all that was going on around him, even if he had already spent several months in the nest and had probably witnessed a lot of things going on. For the boy, things were still games and he had not yet realised that there was more to these activities then just a good feeling for his body and his mind. He also realised that his boys had protected Jefferson a lot more then he had initially thought. The sordid aspects of sexuality Jefferson knew for having been abused during his detention, but he had yet to reconcile this with what was occurring around him; they were two different worlds, a dichotomy that was currently irreconcilable. Harold explored Jefferson's mind and discovered how careful the boys had been. They had worked a marvel of psychotherapy that distanced Jefferson from the immediate suffering of his memories yet allowed him to delve in them at his own rhythm to gain whatever lesson needed to strengthen his character. As he reviewed Jefferson's experiences since he had been in contact with the other princes, he noticed that they had made sure to positively reinforce every progress made, and to support Jefferson whenever something threatened his sanity and his gains. They were there all the time, relaying each other to keep an eye on Jefferson's mental state, even at this moment, as Harold noticed the gentle monitoring of Typhoon in the background. Harold retired from his latest son's mind like a ghost leaves a room, and took a deep breath before kissing him on the nose.

"Wipe those tears, Jefferson, I am sure Enron will be back shortly."

"What was so funny?"

"They were strengthening their love for each other and that activity makes for a lot of noise, Jefferson. They were enjoying each other's body, not hurting each other."

"They were tickling their funny bones? Why didn't they laugh then? It sounded so much like pain to me!"

Harold took a deep breath. How in hell did he paint himself in that corner?

"Jefferson, why don't you ask them about it?"

«Nice going, dad! Dump the hot potato in our hands, as always!» said Harp.

«Be more discreet next time you enjoy Thorsten, and I won't need to do so!»

Oblivious to the exchange, Jefferson continued his interrogation.

"Are you sure they won't get mad at me?"

"No, they won't. They have a responsibility to explain their actions to your satisfaction if you are aware of these actions. So, just ask them next time you see them in the nest."

"All right!"

Just as this exchange came to a close, Enron returned. He had changed completely, and also brought tissues to wipe Jefferson's eyes, and let him clear his nose of the snot. Once that was done, the soggy tissue was disposed of, and the three Atlanteans walked on to the Pterodactyls' tessaract entry.

Apparently the day was breaking in the tessaract, clearly revealing the difference between its time frame and Thebes' clock.

"I'll have to ask Harp about that," said Harold.

"You don't need to. We discussed the issue, and decided to keep them on their original circadian biological clock when we moved them here, but to install a drift of three minutes a day within the tessaract. They are still four hours off our time. So far they do not seem to have noticed that the day begins and ends three minute off each day, while keeping the astronomical duration properly aligned." replied Enron. "They were nine hours behind us, and we have been shifting them for one hundred days, or slightly more then three months with no apparent ill effects. They should be aligned to Thebes' time in eighty days. We have no idea of incubation time for Pterodactyls, but it must be less then three months, since their chicks must be able to fly north in time for their winter migration. It will be tight, but I think everything will be right so the winter migration is done within a stable time frame."

"Ok. They seem to have settled in their nesting area?"

"Yes, from what I see. There is intensive rivalry for the best nesting sites, as you can see from the fight going on between the two males closest to our observation point. The females are watching the events without intervening, but I would wager they are judging which male they like best from both looks and willingness to fight to protect his little bit of dirt. Notice that the colours are now very bright and varied. Females have the pick of the males and will determine who mates and who does not."

"Not all males are fighting! Some seem to have been picked already."

"Well observed, Jefferson. In fact quite a few couples persist year after year, and identify each other by voice in birds. I think we are observing the same phenomenon in the Pterodactyls. It is advantageous to proceed that way, because they do not need to fight other males alone to establish dominance, and the couple, fighting together to protect a nesting place stands a better chance then a lone male that not only must ward off his competitors but conquer the heart of a female."

"What are these two doing? It's a male and female but they seem to fight?"

"Maybe they are preparing a divorce?" replied Harold.

"No. They are not fighting. It is their nuptial dance. The two have recognized each other, and are reaffirming their bond before coupling. The nuptial dance is pre-programmed in many species, and it is derived from the same pattern as the fighting ritual; nature never throws away something that can be reused. Also notice that there are few real bloody fights. Mostly it is posturing to intimidate the opponent into backing off. It is the same posturing that constitutes the mating dance, with some variants. Look at the female: she is being dominant, while the male shows off his colours and is submissive. Now watch their attitude change as that youngster tries to overrule the older Pterodactyl. See? The couple has turned on the interloper, and the submissive male has now taken a very aggressive posture, hitting the invader furiously with the beak while the female does the same from the other side. They are saying to the youngster to go get laid elsewhere."

"What will happen to the young one?" wondered Jefferson.

"He will nest in the periphery of the colony, the most exposed part of it, and try to convince a female not yet paired up to join him in that nest. Next year they will move further inside the colony, and if they both live long enough, they will reach the pinnacle of Pterodactyl society, that is, the nesting grounds found at the centre of the colony."

"And if he can't convince a female?"

"His chances of survival until next year are slim, but if he does, he will have to fight his way again and try to get a female. He might stand a better chance of getting one because he will be bigger and next year's yearlings will be at a disadvantage in the fight for nesting."

"And what happens to a couple that loses a member?"

"Jefferson, that depends on when the loss occurs. If it is during migration the surviving member may find a new partner, but if it occurs during incubation, the surviving partner will continue to incubate and try to feed the young on its own. It will be at a disadvantage because while it fishes, the young will be vulnerable to predators. Sometimes, an individual can't find a new partner and lives at the periphery of the rookery for a while, before falling prey to a predator."

"That is sad."

"Yes it is, but it also insures that only those who are the most apt at transferring their genes do so. In the long run, it pays off. Nature does not give a damn about individuals nor does it care about species. Notice that Pterodactyls show the onset of genetic drift: By being selective, the females are driving a wedge between males and creating new species, recognizable by their colours, their differing mating dance, and, ultimately by differing nesting behaviours. In time, there will be distinct species, unable to mate between each other because they are kept separate by their differing behaviour, or feeding habits or any number of other characteristics. Since this tessaract is barely used, I suspect we could drive the emergence of new Pterodactyls by creating differing conditions, such as geographic obstacles, new migratory paths, or new nesting grounds. It may be that the current nesting ground, by being too small in the long run, will drive the Pterodactyls to new areas, and this in turn will drive the emergence of a new species because the hatchlings will not mix with those that hatch here."

"Will we see that?"

"It depends on what Harp has planned for this tessaract, little brother. We will live a very long time, and if Harp decides to speed time within this tessaract, we may see evolution speeded up and assist to the emergence of new Pterodactyl species. Time and evolutionary pressure is of the essence here. When you have titanic evolutionary pressures, or openings in new niches, you see rapid evolution as life forms compete to survive or occupy the new openings. The only issue is that if changes occur too fast for a species to evolve and adapt, it dies out. This has happened billion upon billions of times over the history of this Universe. Anyway, fast or slow, all species are doomed to extinction. The real issue is this: will there be a new species derived from the now extinct one to replace it or will the lineage really become extinct?"

"I don't want to become extinct!"

"We represent an anomaly in that regard, Jefferson."

"How so?"

"We are the only species that has foresight, or if you prefer, pre-cognitive capabilities; we therefore have the capability to govern our own Destiny, and make sure that we evolve in such a way as not only to survive, but thrive in this Universe. Ian has shown dad what we will become if we do the right thing in time. We are on our way to surviving this Universe itself."

"What about the Pterodactyls?"

"They are still prisoners of their evolutionary path, little brother. Maybe, one day, they too will join us in the sentient world, but for that to occur, the current Pterodactyl species must become extinct to be replaced by countless other intermediate species. By the time they do emerge out of the Dark Age of instinctually driven behaviour and gain full knowledge of their self-identity, they may not even recognize these dinosaurs as their ancestors, and be rather shocked at the idea, or even be in denial. The humans, the so powerful Ancients themselves, were in denial of their own evolution. That the Soul-Eaters and the Atlanteans had a role to play in the emergence of the Homo Sapiens does not in any way invalidate the truth of Evolution itself. Neither the Soul-Eaters nor us can play against Nature's laws; we can only use them for our benefit, not deny their existence. This is why we are so involved in the Ark and Eden projects, and do our best to map genetic material in an effort to first preserve what is left, and second, recreate from samples what was lost."

Turning to Harold, Enron continued.

"I have asked Paschal to extend his special project to include other elements. He was interested in inanimate objects, from books to sculptures; I asked he include a sampling of every life form that populated the Earth since life came into being. He said he would consider, but that he would not, under any consideration, recover a mating Black Dragon pair or a Megalodon. I wonder why he is so afraid of the later?"

"Did you ever explore the Conscience while indexing for Paschal?"

"No."

"He was a mariner in many lives, and, like many mariners, got eaten by sharks a fair share of times as his ship floundered. For him, the Megalodon is a nightmare come true."

"I see. As for the Black Dragon, I agree with his refusal. We will get a genetic mapping of the species through time to study its genetic drift, but it will not go further. I asked he do the same with the sharks and he has agreed."

"How far does he plan to go?"

"Four point five billion years back. I suspect he will usually concentrate in getting genetic mappings, not actual specimens. After all, we do not need pathogens dating to the Jurassic! And there is a plus to this: we will finally get a clear picture of what the damn Soul-Eaters did. They could prevent us from seeing their action during Atlantis II, but I doubt they can hide from the prying eyes of time itself!"

"And it would be nice to know if life was seeded or actually evolved from an inert soup of organic compounds."

"Yes, that is a bonus."

Jefferson had been lost some time back. These numbers meant absolutely nothing to him, but one thing was clear: they were embarked in a project that would span his entire life and then some! He promised inwardly to do all he could to help his family succeed.

"Let's go home, Jefferson. It is almost sext, and I'm sure your bottomless pit is trying to digest the tessaract!" said Harold.

Just then, a loud growl was heard from inside Jefferson, and he became red.

"Hey, now I know where Spare Ribs is hiding. It's in your tummy, eating everything you gobble up. No wonder you do not add an ounce of weight even if you eat like three legionnaires combined!"

"I do not!"

"Anyway, it still is sext, and I'm hungry too."

***

Paschal had spent the morning examining the reports given by the sensors in Thebes. The cleanup crews had been tripled overnight on the insistence of Paschal the previous day. He had paid a visit to the supervisory team and met with the managers.

"I assure you, Prince Paschal, that we have enough teams at work currently to do the work."

"No, you do not. You still have eighty percent of Thebes to clean up, and the task must be finished on short notice!"

"What timetable are you talking about?"

"A year and some months! You would take ten years to do the job at the current speed! I want it done within six months so I can fix what needs to be fixed. Is that clear?"

"How can you say it will take that long? You have no idea of the size of this place or how much we have worked!"

"What? Who do you think designed it? As for how much work you have done, I know exactly how much work you did! That is why I say you are very late on the timetable and that I will triple your numbers, like it or not. If I were sure you could manage the proper workforce, you idiot, I would multiply it by twenty! But from what I see here, tripling is the maximum you can take. I'll zone the city maintenance and create other teams from top to bottom! We imperatively must be ready on time, and I will not put up with any more foot-dragging or turf wars!"

"But "

"No but if you want to keep your butt at room temperature! You are assigned the D wing, from top to bottom. I will create as many groups as there are wings! Got it? Stop spreading haphazardly around Thebes doing as you wish! You have your orders!"

The man was opening his mouth when he suddenly found he was breathing water, before coming back to Thebes with a pilot fish tied to his robe.

"I mean business. You may think you are the king of the hill, the pasha of the Janitors, or for that matter, an irreplaceable potentate, but it is far from the case. Continue like that and you will be scrubbing water closets with your toothbrush! I have sacked quite a few overinflated egos in my short life, arsehole. Do not push me further, or I'll sic Enron on you! He's been biting at the bits to skin a jerk alive! It might be you!"

Paschal left the offices, slamming the door so hard it turned to dust on impact.

"I think Harp was right: the higher a clerk climbs in the administrative ladder, the less oxygen his brain gets, until he reaches a point where he can't even grip the next rung! I got to cool off somewhere or I'll roast the guy on a spit!"

The reply coming from the fox that had come with the prince did not reach the man, but it did not matter. He had been ridiculed in front of his subordinates, and he was not going to let that go. He would get his revenge and sabotage the efforts.

As soon as the thought germinated in his mind, he vanished from his office, much to the awe of the observing subordinates. A letter, signed by Prince Paschal Imhophet, Great Grand Architect of Atlantis made the fate of the potentate clear: For having planned to sabotage, and forfeit his Oath of Fealty to the Crown of Atlantis, said potentate had been executed this very instant. He was to be replaced by his immediate deputy on a provisional period, to be replaced by a more competent man or pending evaluation of work done since the execution of his predecessor.

"You heard the Prince's decrees! I do not plan to lose my head because you guys play with your boy toys in the office. In fact we move to Wing D, and vacate this office space. I believe we should always be close to our work. Get moving. You! Distribute the work to the newcomers when they show up tomorrow morning. We have a map of the work done in Wing D, but I have yet to see a complete map of the wing from top to bottom."

Barely had the new head janitor expressed his need that a thick sheaf of blueprints appeared on a big table. The legend indicated where the cleanup had been done, where it had begun and where it was still very much unvisited.

"That is perfect! Nobody only pushes pencils from now on. Get your fat arses down to level B39 of wing D, everyone. And no slouch, or I'll personally drive my foot up the new butt hole I'll have made in said slouch!"

Paschal decided to divide the city in twenty-six zones, from A to Z, and get janitorial teams to work in each area. He noticed that Wing D was now progressing at a much faster rate, but still would take six months to clean up from top to bottom. He took a stroll down in the innards of levels still housing some rescues from the Kingdoms, and began scanning those he crossed path with. He rapidly found fifty thousand janitors of different experience levels, and summoned them to the Royal Court Room, which stood unoccupied at the moment.

He walked in from a side door, sat on his throne, and slammed his fist on the armrest, using a sonorous charm to amplify the sound to cover the din of the conversation by the surprised individuals.

"All of you have experience in janitorial tasks. We are in need of janitors. I have decided to speed up your processing that will lead to your liberation from the detention areas below because we need you. It is up to you to decide if you want to go back down there to sit on your butt until such time we do reach your turn in the scanning process leading to you release into the general population or if you want to have priority treatment and get out of there more quickly."

"What dos that process you mention entail?" asked a person from the middle of the room.

"Step up front so all your colleagues can see you, please."

The tall, thin man did as Paschal had asked.

"To answer your question, each of you will receive a mental scan. There are some individuals that are too dangerous to be let loose in the population, whatever the need we may have. Those that come clean will get moved up and into private quarters. Those that do not will get back down. Those that have committed capital crimes will be scanned in depth to see why and if they are recoverable or not. In the later case, a person that has no chance whatsoever from ever being rehabilitated get executed on the spot. We cannot afford to keep alive dangerous individuals while we are so tight on resources. Any questions?"

"What are the capital crimes you are refering to?"

"Murder for private gain or pleasure, torture of others for personal reasons, selling, enslaving, or abusing a child in any form,"

"What about our family?"

"Your family will benefit of the same priority treatment. However, the recovery of a family member is contingent on some factors."

"What are they?"

"Well, the first is evident: that member must have been rescued from the Kingdoms, dead or alive. Second factor, the family member must not have wilfully violated the laws mentioned earlier without proper justification; third, in case of petty crime, the persons involved must atone for his failures by contributing constructively to the growth and protection of this society. Finally they must swear fealty to the Throne of Jefferson Davis and by consequence to the Throne of Atlantis, since Jefferson is vassal to Atlantis."

"Who is this Jefferson Davis?"

"He holds the crown of the Kingdoms of Americus ever since his uncle was executed for usurpation and murder of the Royal Family, minus Jefferson himself."

"Do we have time to think on it?"

"No. It is a take it or leave it offer. We need you now, not in six months."

"How do we let you know we accept, or for that matter, refuse the offer?"

"Those that refuse, raise your right hand!" About ten thousand did and immediately were ported back into holding cells. "That is how. I will now scan you. Stand in line, one hundred to a row."

Paschal asked a series of questions, and, using Mitsuko quickly eliminated the dangerous elements, a few hundred at most.

"Those that got struck down either had committed capital offences or did not intend to respect their vow. On the table behind you are your assignments. I used previous experience in managerial work to sort who did what at what level. I suggest all Wing department heads report to Wing D to talk to their team leader. You will find in a room there the blueprints of your respective wing. Also, ask him to tell you what happened to the previous arsehole that occupied his station. Also notice in your assignment billfold the address of your new private apartment. Your billfold will also contain as much information as we have on your family, including actual parents, siblings, and the likes. Note that this information is continuously updated by magic, so you should check on it regularly."

"What are the meanings of some of the symbols?"

"The bed means hospitalized for minor ailments; the bed with a yellow casing means in stasis chamber; the bed with a red casing means in cryogenic stasis; the one with a blue frame means long-term therapy in progress; a bed with a green frame means awaiting a family member to be released. A skull means deceased and waiting for proper burial; a circle means unknown location and status, and finally a person with a tilde means released in general population; two tildes, released but under strict supervision, probably in the military disciplinary units. Are there any more questions?"

"How do we report a missing person?"

"In the back of the billfold are forms for that. You indicate who that person is relative to you, and we add it to the missing persons inventory. Note that each billfold is personalised. You cannot use someone else's billfold to report a missing person, since it is genetically coded. We are still far from having the entire population's genetic map so do not despair. You may one day find your loved ones. We will do our best for it to happen."

"What happens when this is all over?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm sure there are persons we will never find a trace of?"

"That is quite true. We will hold a communal remembrance ceremony for the missing persons, each year."

"And what of those deceased that have no surviving relatives to insure their proper burial?"

"That is very unlikely, since the Pharaoh has accepted all of you in his family, including the dead. The royal family will ensure that there is a proper ritual for all."

"One last question, if I may?"

"Every time I hear that one, I feel like answering you just asked it, but continue."

"Who are you?"

"I am Prince Paschal Imhophet of the Throne of Atlantis, Great Grand Architect. My father is the Pharaoh."

"What does that mean?"

"Pharaoh means King of kings, or, if you prefer a simpler word, Emperor. You asked three questions already!"

A great roar of laughter followed the prince's comment.

"Go home and rest. You are to report to your station at dawn tomorrow morning. Managers, the D wing janitorial manager is waiting for your visit. Proceed there at once. The city map will tell you where to go. Dismissed!"