The Days of Peleg (14 page)

ctg(A) = cos(lat)tg(dec) / sin(LHA) - sin(lat)tg (LHA)

It was sheer beauty. Now by using his sextant as a protractor, he could mark off absolute north and finally get a new, accurate magnetic variation. Hopefully, they wouldn’t wander so far off course next time.

“
You
haven’t seen anything like
this
?” Phaxâd teased the tall Mentor. Thaxad meekly towered over the diminutive Captain. No one ever mentioned that fact that Captain Phaxâd was the shortest man on the ship. Standing next to Thaxad merely accentuated the difference.

“I’m sure I haven’t seen everything,” Thaxad admitted. “You’re saying you saw evidence of asymmetrical geo-polymerization?”

“Absolutely! In fact, many of the bricks were rounded, as if a foaming sheet of different sized bubbles were suddenly solidified into a solid wall.” He paused for effect. “Without mortar.”

Thaxad pondered this. He tried to imagine multiple casting molds with merging edges that could be removed once the bricks were in place. Perhaps some kind of thin ceramic that could be washed away with acid once the stone had set. He
must
be allowed to examine this.

“I should like to observe this,” he finally acknowledged.

“I’m sorry,” said Phaxâd. “The locals won’t allow us to explore that portion of the island. It upsets one of their special animals or environment or something. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

Thaxad spoke in a voice more earnest than usual. This was as close as he got to expressing excitement or determination. “I should like to visit this platform.” Only his eyes betrayed his desire. “Discretely, of course.”

Phaxâd had already decided. “No. We can’t risk upsetting our hosts. It wouldn’t do to anger them and lose our supplies and crops.”

“I see,” Thaxad submitted, at least verbally. “As you say. I’m sure it was as you describe. I will take your word for it.”

On the second, fourth, and sixth day of each week, Peleg had a lengthy meeting with Kupé, who was an excellent student. One thing had always puzzled him. All known cultures and people groups surveyed the heavens and performed all math and geometry in multiples of sixty. Dividing and multiplying by six seemed intuitive to him, yet somehow, every culture divided their calendar into seven-day weeks. There were different ways of determining months, and adjusting the method by which the year matched the seasons, but he could think of no geometric or astronomical basis for this peculiar seven-day cycle. Who had decided to use a prime number to subdivide time?

Now, when they were scheduling days to convene, Peleg had assumed without thinking that Kupé would understand this cycle. Realizing the error of this assumption, he then expected Kupé to be completely confused. To his astonishment, Irawaru’s men
also
maintained this inexplicable seven-day cycle, and Peleg’s puzzlement grew.
What natural order of things brought about such a pattern?

The islanders had given special names to each of the days, instead of the simple numbers that Peleg was used to; but Kupé also seemed unaware that a different arrangement was possible. In fact, Kupé and his associates set aside the seventh day to meditate on these strange ‘
Atua
’ creatures. Strangely, back home, day seven was usually set aside for rest and recreation.

As the weeks progressed, he discovered that Kupé’s community was comprised only of men, and that they had traveled under harsh conditions from a large continent much further to the east. This greatly relieved Peleg to discover that there were land masses between where they were now and home. He looked forward to hearing more about this, and perhaps obtaining some maps or other details of what to expect when they set sail again.

“I tell you, he looked just like one of the
Atua
!” Kupé exclaimed.

Manu cut him off before he could continue.

“Not in that beat-up ship,” he said. “The
Atua
travel in golden skyships.”

“I’m not saying he
is
a god,” Kupé retorted. “Besides, their ship is nicer than any
you’ve
ever been on.”

Manu grunted and glanced at Irawaru.

Kupé continued.

“All I’m saying is that he looks like what I would expect. He’s taller with a long face, and appears a little older than the others. He reminded me of my first
Mara’ma
.”

Manu laughed. “So now you’re saying he’s the Watcher-in-the-moon.”

Commander Irawaru interrupted, irritated. “Manu, let’s not have any irreverent remarks.
Mara’ma
guided us safely here, and here we’ll stay until the
Atua
choose to come for us. If not, someday we will each ascend the golden chord to their realm, and receive our reward then.”

He turned to Kupé. “Invite your student, Peleg and their leader for dinner. Ask also for the tall man you described to accompany them.”

“His name is Thaxad,” Kupé offered.

“Excellent.” Irawaru smiled at them both, and the surrounding men. “It will be interesting to witness the one the Kupé claims looks like a god.”

Kupé drew back a little. “I said, I didn’t say he
was
a god. In fact, he had very white skin. He also had a marking or tattoo on his cheek. Everyone knows that the
Atua
are very dark and splendid with no markings or blemishes of any kind.”

Irawaru laughed lightly. “When the strangers leave, we will look forward to your next
Mara’ma
to see if you make it paler.” The surrounding men chuckled.

He became serious again. “Now, at your next lesson, please deliver our invitation. I believe we can now trust them with our location.”

They set out for the islander’s encampment, led by Kupé, later that afternoon. He was distressed at the absence of Thaxad. When they had left the ship, Peleg and Captain Phaxâd could find him nowhere. Kupé was decidedly agitated; he had wanted to present Thaxad to his compatriots. Kupé explained that he was the sculptor of the carving discovered by Captain Phaxâd, and apparently, their ship’s chemist bore a strong resemblance to his creation.

Upon entering the village, Peleg noticed that all of the huts were arranged to create an outline of three elongated ellipses. Also, each of the dwellings was made in the same stretched oval shape and lined up with the larger arc.

Peleg asked their guide what significance this elongated elliptical shape carried.

“That is the path which the wandering star of the
Atua
takes through the heavens,” was Kupé’s nonchalant reply.

Peleg was taken aback. All he could think of was the animosities between those at home who argued over Nibiru’s ultimate fate. The
Atua
must be some kind of spirit beings or gods in their local myths, not an unknown animal. He was sure that wild creatures didn’t fly to other worlds.

Kupé noticed the look on his face, and mistook it for a lack of comprehension.

“We re-discovered their sign in the sky three years ago, and rebuilt our community to honor them. They will come for us someday, and we want them to recognize our faithfulness and devotion.”

Peleg realized with a start that Kupé was referring to the reappearance of Nibiru, but was surprised to find this degree of superstition among these men. He was also somewhat alarmed by the similarities with the views of Mentor Salah.

Kupé had already moved on, and was now discussing the settlement. They had arrived here thirty-six years ago, and had devoted their lives to meditation and music. He was the lone sculptor, but there were several good mathematicians and astronomers, and Manu was their chemist. In fact, Manu had developed the procedure which was used to form the platform for his statues.

Peleg wasn’t sure he understood everything, since the language barrier wasn’t completely bridged, but he felt he was starting to get a comprehensive picture of these men.

Kupé then promised that the full saga of their arrival would be presented this evening.

The dinner was excellent, consisting of broiled albatross and spicy, sliced owl meat. A large variety of unknown fruits were offered, along with a salad of nuts and finely chopped bark.

A small orchestra of tuned percussion began to play. The sound was most distressing to Peleg until he realized he was listening to a monophonic scale of forty-three notes to the octave. He then began to enjoy the gradual rise and fall of the music and noticed the sparkle when perfect-thirds and perfect fifths burst out as passing tones in the thick polyrhythmic texture which swelled and faded within the larger thematic structure.

He asked Kupé about the significance of forty-three.

Kupé shrugged. “Any more and the intervals would not be discernible,” was the earnest, obvious answer. “And the intervals are completely symmetric. Whether one starts from the top or the bottom of the scale, he will discover the same intervals between the 4/3 and the 3/2 ratio, forming a complimentary inversion from the opposite ends of the octave. We spent many years trying to find a perfect scale before we succeeded.”

Kupé finished with a smile, obviously pleased with their discovery.

Peleg shook his head and wished Serug were here. Musical tuning systems had been another of Serug’s numerous short-lived obsessions. He had always insisted that
proper
intervals should be based on the ratios found in planetary cycles, and that only non-divisible harmonics should be allowed to define consonances. Or something like that. He had called it Serug’s Harmony of the Heavens.

On second thought, though, Peleg decided it was better that he was not here. Serug would probably chuckle and make rude jokes at the sight of an all-male percussion ensemble.

It struck him that they were about as far from any civilization as one could get, and they were still enjoying human creativity and ingenuity. This would not be lost in his report upon returning home. Of course, Serug would still spoil it all by asking, ‘What’s the source?’

When the performance had ended, Commander Irawaru stood and began to speak and Kupé sidled over to Peleg to assist in translating. Irawaru began an address on how they had been forced to leave their homes, and Peleg relayed this to Captain Phaxâd.

Irawaru and his men had lived in a great seaport called Tiwanaku near the coastline of the large continent that Kupé claimed was further to the east. They were ruled by devotees to the Great Serpent God,
Viracocha
, who created life and around whom the cosmos revolves. Apparently, the dissension of Irawaru and his followers centered around their belief that
Mamaquilla
, the goddess of the moon, was more powerful than
Apu Inti
, the sun god.

The argument was that, although
Viracocha
devoured the moon every month, the moon was resurrected anew; thereby demonstrating its superior vitality. Also,
Mamaquilla
regulated the months and tides, and, although the Sun was essential,
Mamaquilla
was the most miraculous and ingenious of the gods made by
Viracocha
.

This might have been tolerated until Irawaru, who had been the high priest in
Mamaquilla’s
temple, received the revelation that the lunar deity was not female, but male. His name was
Mara’ma
, and this discovery had clearly solidified his greatness over
Apu Inti
.

For this, Irawaru and his followers had been rounded up, escorted to the coast, and placed on a raft with a small sail, few supplies, and some pots of fresh water, and sent out to sea; banished. If they felt that
Mara’ma
was so powerful, perhaps he would save them.

Somehow, through the mercy of
Mara’ma
, they had traveled for four months before arriving on this island. They had eaten nothing but fish and bird, but the greatest struggle was fresh water. They had rinsed their sail and made a canopy with a depression that delivered small amounts of distilled water to the waiting pot. They had inverted one of their pots and created a small makeshift still and collected the vapor which condensed at the top. They had sucked the freshwater out of fish eyeballs and bones, and even been forced to drink small amounts of seawater, which, although it made them sick, did not kill them when taken in small enough quantities. They dared not eat much without a supply of fresh water.

When all had seemed lost,
Mara’ma
had sent gentle rains which they collected and stored. Finally,
Mamacocha
, the Great Mother of the Sea, had sent a storm which had deposited them on the shores of this land—sickly and with their craft destroyed; but, sustaining only five casualties, they offered prayers of praise and thanksgiving in their songs and hearts.

Mara’ma
had vindicated them, and now they would wait for him and his assemblage of
Atua
to retrieve them and bring them to their reward when the time was right.

When Peleg had finished the last of this translation, the evening was abruptly over. Irawaru bowed his head good-bye, and Kupé took Peleg and Phaxâd from the dining hut.

Instead of going towards the
Urbat
, Kupé steered them down another path which apparently ended at his own quarters. He said, “I wish to share with you, something.”

Inside, he went to a small shelf which had rolls of papyrus. He selected one, and opened it for Peleg.

As Peleg oriented himself, he slowly realized that this was a partial outline of the far-eastern continent—apparently the one from which they had been banished. It had been drawn recently, obviously after their arrival, and he memorized as much as he could.

Kupé then pulled out other scrolls which contained written language, more maps, and some astronomical references in writing which neither Peleg or Phaxâd recognized.

They communicated slowly but excitedly late into the night until the impatience of Captain Phaxâd forced them to continue their discussion on the way back to the ship where they abandoned their exchange to be resumed at another time.