Jesus the Extraterrestrial - Origins (4 page)

C
HAPTER 5

Washington DC, 21st February 1991.

The US Senator for New York, George Griffin, was asleep in bed beside his wife. It was Sunday and the sun had not yet risen. It had been a cold night and the silence outside their big house was unusual for a Sunday. Normally the neighbors gave parties or dinners which lasted well into the night, infuriating the senator with music at top volume, which could be heard blocks away. George couldn´t understand how today´s young people could enjoy that sort of music, let alone at that volume. George and his wife lived in a big house, number 3053 on P Street Northwest in Washington DC. They had moved there from New York in
the eighties.

After a few minutes, the first rays of the sun began to shine through the glass door which gave on to the veranda of the senator´s suite. The next thing that happened was that a buzzer began to sound insistently, at the frequency of those dog whistles, tormenting and without let-up. The senator´s wife Jane was the first to hear it. She started to shift around in the bed, and tried to cover her head with the blanket, but in vain: she couldn´t get the noise out of her head. It wasn´t six a.m. yet, and on Sundays they usually got up after ten. She tried shutting each ear with a pillow but this didn´t work either, so Jane decided to wake her husband and get him to find out where the damned noise was coming from, and to put a stop to it. Lying face down with the pillows over her head, Jane, who slept on the right hand side of the bed, stretched out her long right arm and started shaking the senator, who had always been a heavy sleeper. They could be dropping bombs on Washington just then and the senator would sleep through it. He realized that someone was shaking him but preferred to ignore the fact, hoping that it was just a dream, or even a nightmare, or simply that the unfortunate person that was doing it would stop. Jane knew her husband wouldn´t wake up easily, so she decided to take the pillows off her head and call him by name.

‘George, can´t you hear that damn noise?’

‘Er… What noise?’ grumbled the senator still half asleep, and lacking the courage to open his eyes.

‘That infernal buzzing, what could it be?’

The senator had no choice, he would have to get up and find out where the damned buzzing was coming from, or he wouldn´t be able to get back to sleep. Gradually he got his eyes open, rubbed them with his hands to help him wake up, and slowly struggled to his feet like a zombie. He and his wife had stayed up late watching old movies. It was a rare privilege, as they were almost always invited out for dinners or other social events.

‘That noise really is most irritating!’ exclaimed the senator, as he fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table.

He got up then and started walking round the room, trying to see where the noise was coming from. He went from side to side, but the volume of the buzzing didn´t seem to vary. He looked through the glass of the door which gave on to the veranda, trying to see if there was anything in the road responsible for the noise. He opened the veranda door and went out. The sound diminished. Then he closed the veranda door from the outside: the sound stopped.

‘The noise can only be coming from inside the house. Could it be something to do with the wiring?’ he asked himself.

He went back into the room, walked over to the door, opened it and went out. Once again the noise ceased. How could the sound be audible only from inside the room? He went back in and closed the door. He went over and unplugged the TV and DVD player, but the sound continued. It was just then that he felt a twitch of unease, remembering what was hidden in his room and what his father had said to him years before.

‘It’s not possible. Could the time have come?’ he thought aloud.

‘What did you say, honey? Time for what?’ asked Jane, who was frightened at the expression on her husband’s face. ‘What’s
going on?’

‘Honey, please, get away from the bed, I’ve got to move it,’ said the senator, plucking up his courage.

‘Move the bed? What are you talking about?’ answered his wife, getting increasingly worried.

‘Help me push!’

The two of them started to push the bed, dragging it across the wooden floor.

‘I have to open the safe.’

‘But honey, the safe isn’t under the bed, it’s in our dressing room. Are you feeling OK?’

George kneeled down, applied pressure to one of the floor boards and slipped his hand behind the wall, where he had pressed the wood down. He pulled a lever which was hidden behind the wall and at once, as if by magic, a piece of the floor gave way, revealing a hole where a safe attached to the hidden wall could be seen.

‘This safe!’ exclaimed George with an enigmatic look.

‘But how did that safe get there? Why didn´t you ever tell me about it?’ asked his wife with a rather hurt expression.

‘Honey, I couldn´t tell you or anyone about this safe. If someone had threatened you you’d have told them all about it.’

‘What do you keep in this safe?’

George supported his weight with his hands on the floor and lowered his legs into the hole. He began to enter the combination of the lock. There were more than ten numbers and ten letters. Then they heard the click as the workings of the old safe slotted into place. George pulled the door towards him and they could see a fluorescent green light coming from the back of the safe, from inside an ancient wooden box which was hidden under some papers. He took hold of the box and pulled it slowly towards him. He lifted it very carefully with his two hands and placed it on the wooden floor. He re-locked the safe and, supporting himself on the floor, pushed up with his legs and got out of the hole.

With the wooden box removed from the safe the buzzing had got even louder, and was now almost deafening. George pulled a lever set at one end of the hole, and the floorboards returned to their original position.

George picked up the box carefully and with both hands placed it on the bed.

‘Honey, please, tell me what that thing is. Is it radioactive? What’s that light?’ asked Jane, still worried.

‘Calm down, woman, you will understand. Don´t worry, it isn’t radioactive - at least, I don´t think it is.’

The senator opened the old wooden box and slowly, with one hand, drew out of it a chalice which was also made of wood.

‘Look at that, honey. Can you guess what it is?’ asked the senator with a wide smile on his face.

‘No idea. An old wooden jug?’ replied his wife sarcastically.

‘It’s what they call the Holy Grail.’

‘The Holy Grail? My God, then it’s been with you the whole time?’

‘The Holy Grail never left the hands of our family. My ancestors made a number of replicas and scattered them around the world. Wars and more wars have been fought because of it. Many people thought they were in possession of the true Grail, millionaire collectors and even the Vatican have replicas they believe are the real thing. If the true Grail had fallen into the wrong hands, humanity today would be lost.’

‘But how so? How can a mere relic have such power over humanity?’

‘My dear, the Holy Grail isn’t just any old relic. It’s the source of the power of God here on earth. It contains the blood of the son of God and it’s through this blood that Jesus will be born again on earth to save us once more.’

‘I’m sorry honey, but I don’t see any blood there. And what’s this light shining out of the base of the chalice?’

The senator gripped the chalice with his two hands against his chest. With an effort he broke off the base.

‘Honey have you gone mad - you´ve just destroyed the Holy Grail?’ said Jane, desperately trying to stop her husband.

‘Watch this.’

George, holding the chalice by the handle, twisted it against the palm of his right hand. A shining object slipped out onto his hand. It was obvious that the noise was coming from the object. In a few seconds the noise stopped and the bright green light went out.

‘Honey, this is the real Holy Grail. This container holds the blood of Jesus Christ our Lord, who is also our distant ancestor.’

‘Ancestor?’ asked Jane, who was quite bewildered by all this.

‘Honey, sit here on the bed, I´ll tell you the whole story. You and I are distant cousins. Our great-grandfathers were brothers. For safety’s sake the surnames were changed, something we always do when danger gets close. Our family is directly descended from Jesus Christ. Jesus and Mary Magdalene had a daughter called Sarah, and we are descended from Sarah. How do you think the Holy Grail got into my possession? Joseph of Arimathaea left it in Sarah’s keeping for her to pass to her children and them to their children, and so on. Of course, the family of Sarah never faced difficulties; there were always people close by to protect the keepers of the Grail. For centuries the Holy Grail has been hidden, guarded and protected. A secret society was formed to guard the secret and the true whereabouts of the Grail. This society, centuries after the death of Christ, after wars and tribulations and a break-up, has been brought together again and given the name Priorate of Sian.

‘Heavens, this is all just so amazing,’ said Jane, her eyes full of tears.

‘At the time Jesus died, an angel went to Joseph of Arimathaea and gave him this cylinder. The angel told him to collect the blood of Jesus and keep it in here, and said that only those with traces of the DNA of Jesus could open it. And what’s more, he said that Jesus would be reborn from the blood which Joseph saved. The idea was to keep the DNA practically intact, and so in the first century, after Sarah had had children and grandchildren, it was decided that our family would only marry within itself. I think that this too was an instruction given to Sarah herself by the angel, years after her first children were born.’

‘And how are you proposing to get Jesus reborn from this blood?’

‘By cloning!’

‘Cloning? I don´t believe it. Who could make a human clone?’

‘Someone very close to you,’ said George, and she fell silent, thinking, for a few seconds.

‘Ah, now I understand, that was why you insisted that Thomas should take up genetic engineering. It’s your plan for him to make a clone of Jesus?’ asked his wife, angry now, trying to organize her thoughts and recollections, and remembering how George had channeled the desires and the studies of her son Thomas towards genetics. ‘But a human clone has never been made before, how could it be done?’

‘It is possible; our current technology is very advanced. It only hasn’t been done yet because no government or company was willing to fund the research, but theoretically it’s possible and that’s what Thomas studied. We need him to make the clone. This secret, Jane, cannot go outside our family. And one more thing: Jesus will have to be born in the womb of our granddaughter Sarah.’

‘My God, my little granddaughter!’

‘I always knew that the Grail would manifest itself around this time, but I didn´t think it would be so soon. Luckily Thomas has become a specialist in the field, and our granddaughter is mature enough to have a baby.’

‘But what if Sarah refuses?’

‘She can´t refuse, the future of humanity depends on her. My problem isn’t with Sarah, it’s with her father. He could be the one who’s reluctant, with all that stuff about ethics.’

‘I don´t get it. Why do you say the future of humanity is at stake?’

‘Jesus came to earth the first time to save us. God wanted to destroy the human race because we were losing faith and we were very disobedient. That was when Jesus intervened, to show God that we weren’t so bad after all and that we deserved a second chance.’