Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin "I" Series Book II (7 page)

Father
Marquette started off slowly, Father Realini walking behind him, shooing him
with his hands. He followed Father Marquette until he rounded the first corner
of the long hallway that led back to the sleeping rooms and with a scowl
growled, “Get,” and gave Father Marquette another push.

The
entire time Father Marquette was gone, Father Realini paced from the window in
the library, out of the room, trotting to the end of the hallway where Father
Marquette had disappeared, and then back again to the window. Each second being
drawn out by worry about the letter they had forged getting back in time to be
placed in the book. They needed to get that book out of the Library and out
into the world. To be found. To be decoded. He knew it. And, now, it was by
God’s grace that the
Collegio Romano
was short of money and decided to
sell some of its holdings discreetly. Including, he would make sure, the
manuscript.

He
was standing at the end of the hall, peering around the corner, wringing his
hands, his heart pounding, when he heard two voices at the other end of the
corridor. One he recognized was Rector Bershoni’s voice.

That
man coming today, the one moving ever so much closer to where he stood, was a
rare book dealer from London. He would not take such a book, jumbled with what
appeared to be nonsense, and pictures of naked women and plants that had never
before been seen on this planet, unless it had some history. Some intrigue. He
and Father Marquette had given it that. A letter stating that Emperor Rudolph
II of Germany had purchased it for six hundred gold ducats because he believed
it to be the work of Roger Bacon was sure to sway him.

Finally,
Father Marquette came dashing around the corner on the polished wood floor.
Wind scooped up through his long black cassock, his ferraiolo flying off his
shoulders while he held onto his
biretta
.

“Hurry!”
Father tried to whisper as loud as he could.  “Hurry, they’re almost here.”

The
gentleman didn’t take long to look over the library’s books. He seemed to know
just what he wanted and was out in no more than twenty minutes.

“Well,
did he buy it?” Father Marquette peeked around the corner of the library door.

“Yes.
Yes, he did. Come in Father Marquette.”

“Who
was he?”

“I
told you. A book seller. A seller of rare books.”

“Yes,
I know that. But, what was his name?”

“Voynich.
Wilfrid Voynich.”

Chapter Eleven

Cleveland
Heights
, Ohio

June 17, 2011

Dr.
Sabir had several theories on how mankind would ultimately find out the truth
about his origins. The first was the ability to travel in space and return to
the ruins of Mars. The second would be the discovery of more manuscripts. And
the third way, he thought, would be the finding of a remnant of the people who came
here.  Untainted knowledge held, through hundreds of thousands of years, by
isolated people. Perhaps an oral history. But he hoped something written.
Although he thought last contact by our ancestors, or “Ancients” as I liked to
call them, was more recent than that, possibly ten to twenty thousand years
ago.

His
first theory, the idea of space travel, he thought was not something that would
happen before the twenty-first century.

He
was wrong about that.

Although
it was only a couple of decades after he wrote his theories in 1949 that we
went to the moon, man had yet to travel to, and excavate, Mars. Something my
brother Greg had once told me I needn’t worry about happening anytime soon.

Still,
pictures showing the ‘Face of Mars,’ as it has been named, were believed by
some to be ancient ruins on the face of the planet. Those pictures had opened
up discussions on what could have been there. Dr. Sabir and I, separated by
generations, had learned from the AHM manuscripts the Ancients had tried to
cover up what was left. They’d hoped that the ruins would somehow tunnel
themselves underground. That they would sink. The ancient writer of the AHM manuscripts
admitted that that hope was thin. With the lack of a living ecosystem, many
things would probably protrude from where they had buried them. Where
they had tried to dispose of them. Vegetation that would usually decay over the
years, leading to groundcover, would be absent. There would be no floods to
push soil over the ruins, because the oceans were dry. No trash build up, no
volcanoes to spew their ash, no one to come and build over what they had left.
From recent pictures of Mars’ surface, their attempts had decidedly failed.
Something up there was stubbornly staying visual. But until someone got up
there, no one could say for certain what it was. Well, except for me.

But
as an archaeologist and anthropologist, Sabir thought finding evidence of the
migration in writings and artifacts the best course of action. He didn’t
believe there was such a thing as out-of-place artifacts (OOPArt). Although the
term OOPArt was not a phrase back when he left his notes, and usually now only
used by
those that
push ancient astronaut theories, I knew that’s what he meant, and I agreed with
him.
After having translated
the AHM manuscripts, I guess technically, he and I both were ancient astronaut
theorists. So, why not use the term?

Dr.
Sabir believed that everything was in its place. How improbable, he wrote, is it
that they left something behind? Not very. Apparently they hadn’t completely
hidden their remains on Mars. Good chance, he thought, that they didn’t hide
them all that well here on Earth either.

He
thought that man had already discovered a few. The 10,000 year old petroglyphs
in Val Camonica, Italy. The Inca’s ancient airplanes found in the coastal
regions of South America, or even the 20,000 year old drawings from the caves
of Pech Merle in France. All over the world there was evidence that they had left
behind. Some folks believed it meant that prehistoric man was in awe of some
sky dwellers that flew spacecraft. Only problem with that theory was that the
people here on Earth were never in awe or reverence of the “aliens,” because
they had been the ones that came down in those spaceships. The reason they drew
those petroglyphs, made cave drawings, and made the airplanes was probably
because they were just depicting their history.

And
certainly there were probably manuscripts hidden or buried that told more of
the story of our migration. But who knew where to look? I had spent a lifetime
searching for ancient biblical artifacts. Now what? Should I be a Martian
archaeologist? Looking for ancient artifacts from Mars? Dr. Sabir thought there
would be clues. Clues leading us to the answers.

God
I hoped not.

I
don’t want to have to go around figuring out clues. I am no good at that. I
just needed something that would tell me what I needed to know. I’ll dig for
it, translate it, but please, God, don’t let me have to piece clues together.

That
reminded me about the Book of Enoch.

Dr.
Sabir thought that the Book of Enoch held clues and could be used as proof of
the existence of man on Mars. The book was a non-canonized text of a man who
lived probably six thousand years ago. Enoch’s genealogy could be found in our
Bible. The book was found in Cave 2 at Qumran and was a part of the Dead Sea
Scrolls’ excavation. The AHM manuscripts I ultimately translated were found in
Cave 4. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption since they were found so close
together that the Book of Enoch would have something to do with the AHM
manuscripts. If one manuscript about man’s origin was kept by the Essenes and
hidden away in the caves, it was likely that others would be too.

The
Book of Enoch did describe ‘other worldly’ events, but most scholars believed
that those events had to do with God. No one equated the Book of Enoch with
anything but the Bible. Except, of course, the alien astronaut theorists. Everything
they saw proved that there were extraterrestrials. Not that they ever said the
ancient astronauts were from Mars. But the fourth planet in those manuscripts I
translated couldn’t mean anything else. And now, per Dr. Sabir, the Book of
Enoch had to do with man and Mars. I had to believe him.

But
more importantly, if I understood his sketchy notes correctly, Dr. Sabir said
he had found scientific proof.  

Before
he had turned his information over to Dr. Yeoman, Dr. Sabir wrote how he had
sought counsel with the person on the Dead Sea Scrolls Translation Committee
who was translating the Book of Enoch.  He thought it may be part of the
evidence he needed to prove mankind’s origins. He also thought, if he could
connect the two after revealing that we came from outer space, he could prove
that there had been no evolution of man. To prove, he thought, without
revocation, that there was a God.

Of
course I didn’t believe in evolution. And, I had a hard time with the possibility
that any of this might have to do with Christianity, or that proof of life
originating on Mars was in the Book of Enoch. Even though the book was not
canonized, it still, I thought, couldn’t be part of Christianity. I had told my
brother Greg, when I first translated the AHM manuscripts that what was written
in them had nothing to do with God. That it was pure science. But it seemed
that now Dr. Sabir’s “proof” was trying to beckon me away from my grounded
beliefs. I dug my heels in deep and decided to analyze how that lost book could
mean that.

The
Internet wasn’t what I needed. I already knew that the Book of Enoch was
supposedly an ancient Jewish
religious work, written by Enoch, the great-grandfather of Noah. And, it told
of a vision that he had. But I needed more. I did have cursory knowledge of
non-canonized books like Thomas, books of the Maccabees and the Book of Enoch.
But I needed some “scholarly” information.

I decided to call my friend, Simon Melas.

Chapter
Twelve

Simon Melas was an anthropologist, archaeologist and linguist.
He taught at MIT and had been their poster boy when it came to anthropology.
He’d helped them get recognition in areas other than engineering. He could have
been Guess’ poster boy, he was just that good-looking. About ten years my
junior, Simon was six-foot, tanned, with olive-colored skin and dark features.
He had beautiful green eyes that were mesmerizing. Shoulder-length, coal black
hair, and was thin with an athletic build. And, he was smart. An unusual
combination.

A few years back Simon told me he was taking a sabbatical to study
lost books of the Bible. It had been rumored that he had been forced to leave
MIT because he had misappropriated grant money. I wasn’t sure where he was now,
but in his work, he’d always been at the head of the pack. And, he spoke my
language. Hopefully his timetable for studying the lost books so far had
included the Book of Enoch.

Simon, after Dr. Margulies, was my closet colleague. We had
written several scholarly articles together. We went on digs together, studied
artifacts together. In the archaeological world we were a pair. If someone
googled me, his name would pop up there somewhere as well. That was before he
was MIT’s golden boy and I became the curator of Cleveland’s Ancient History
Museum. Nowadays we didn’t keep in touch so much. It had been a good while
since I spoke with him. I paged through my address book, found a number for him,
and picked up the house phone. Then, I thought, what would I say?

‘
Oh, hi Simon, I found that homo sapiens originated on
Mars, and I need to find out more about the Book of Enoch because I believe it
tells their story.
’

That sounded crazy.

I hung up the phone. My eyes darted around in my head. I
drummed my fingers on the desk.
What the heck,
I thought. My new book
would be out soon. So why not just go for it? I dialed the number.

“Hey, Simon, It’s Justin Dickerson,” I said after he picked
up.

“Hey, yourself! How are you?” I could hear the smile in his
voice. “It is so nice to hear from you. I’ve missed you.” He hesitated. “You
must want something. Sadly, that’s the only time you call me.”

He was the biggest flirt. I liked it though.

“Actually, Simon I was just calling to hear your voice.”

“Really?” He sounded intrigued. “And where is that husband of
yours?”

“I’ve killed him so that I can be with you.”

“Ha. Ha. Good. I was recently on a dig, and I have the perfect
sarcophagus for him. They will never find him, and our future colleagues will
be so confused when they dig him up and find 2,000 year old bones in a 4,000
year old box.”

“Simon. I see you’re still awful. It’s a good thing I have a
husband to protect me from the likes of you. And, you’re right. I do need
something from you.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Tell me about the Book of Enoch.”

“It was found with the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

“Don’t tell me anything I can find out on the Internet or that
I already know. You’re the expert. I need something useful.”

“Really, that wasn’t helpful? Because I wrote that on the Internet.
At least for Wikipedia. That wasn’t enough for you?”

I laughed. It figured he was the Wiki author.

“Actually, now that I think about it,” he said, slowly. “People
do keep editing it. No telling what it says now. I wouldn’t mind so much if
they knew what they were talking about. So, why are you wondering about the
Book of Enoch?”

“I’m writing a book.”

“Really? You need any help? You know I’m always available to
help you.”

“Maybe,” I said. “I might just need your help. Right now,
though, I just need to get some answers.”

“Okay. What do you need to know?”

“Why do you think that the Book of Enoch wasn’t canonized?” I
asked.

“Because it’s not Biblical.”

That made me sit up straight. “What do you mean? It’s an
extrapolation of Genesis 6:1.”

“No. I don’t think so. Enoch uses too many words that are not
common among the canonized or non-canonized books. Things like calling these
supposed angels “Watchers” and “Spirit of Light,” instead of Holy Spirit.
“Spirit of Light” only appears in the Book of Enoch and 1 Maccabees. I don’t
think he’s talking about God and his minions.”

“Aren’t those fallen angels? The Watchers?”

“Have you read the Book of Enoch?”

“Why, do my questions sound like I haven’t?”

“Since I’m vying for your affection from a man you’ve been
married to for thirty years, I’m not going to say that. At least out loud. I’m
going to stay on your good side, so, I’ll just answer your questions.”