Untitled Work in Progress

A fictional precursor to the Sumerian creation story.

The great door of the pod burst open with a spout of steam and planted itself in the sand, acting as a ramp for the anxious and chattering men that piled out and into the brilliant light of the day. Behind them spanned a body of water so great they could not have dreamed it. On either side of them rushed grand ribbons of water that flowed into the sea at their backs and snaked far beyond the horizon before them. The men took their first steps on foreign soil, marveling at the life beneath their feet. Much was green and the vastness for which their sight went unhindered by dust or smoke or the massive walls of their home was staggering to the effect of rendering the men soundless and gaping for minutes before the first of them spoke: Here we will flourish.  The bold and grinning man was called Mazacarth and this was a day he had lived only in dreams. With a sharp sniff of air he trudged forward and in silent agreement the others, forty-two in number, followed him forth across the fertile and boundless earth they had found. Often they stumbled or became disoriented, unused to the enormity of this new space they occupied. Feeling often as mountains must, the men were not accustomed to seeing for such great distance. This would prove problematic only in the first months of their arrival, for although they had spent the entirety of their lives aboard the ship, their bodies were designed specifically to thrive in this place. The innermost makings of their bodies, assembled in such a fashion that they could live in this land, rendered them humorously smaller than their masters who watched from the ship above. This process had required infinitely less effort than reengineering the entire atmosphere and climate to accommodate the population of which the men below regarded as giants. Saplu, a word that meant lower in their language, had become the designation of these measly workers. Meager by design but unremitting laborers by rearing, the Saplu determined to enact the vision of which their entire lives had orbited. Eagerly the giants watched, aboard the great vessel, which rivaled the size of this land’s moon. And it was often the Saplu gazed up at the vessel above them, imagining the faces of those eager to join them. But first we must make it ready. The giants that watched could not live under the conditions of this land. The air unbreathable and the pressure so lacking that their bones would surely deteriorate. The solution was the mission that took place below in the new land; an itinerary that had defined the life of the generations of Saplu aboard the ship, each father passing on to his spawn the dream of the giants and an increasingly fractured history of the world the ones before them had left behind.

The men that walked below boasted very little knowledge of anything beyond what would allow them to survey this land and construct the domes for which their towering masters could inhabit. Small fragments of their origin had survived through the storytelling of father to son through the centuries: We come from them, they come from somewhere we’ve never seen. These were the words that Mazacarth’s father had uttered when the boy inquired about the giants whom the Saplu had seen only on the great screen from which they received instruction. You could fit in the palm of their hand. We were made to go where they can’t. Mazacarth remembered his father’s words as he led the troop of Saplu workers through the immeasurable unfolding of organic mystery before them. It would be years before these words would ignite the rebellious fire in his heart and for now he was only elated to be the first of his kind to touch true soil to his feet. A wiry, dark-haired Saplu called Rimush hastened his step to walk at his side.

Maz, he spoke. Do you suppose a particular location is what they intend?

I am uncertain as you of their intent, Mazacarth answered. He flicked the mechanical and soundless amulet suspended from his neck. They watch as we walk and where the fruits of their ambition are in abundance they will halt our march and we will begin the work. Perhaps where there is stone to make with or this vegetation of which I’m sure some purpose can be found.

Perhaps water, said Rimush, gesturing at the great river that flowed beside them. Mazacarth nodded.

Have you considered what can be done about food here? He asked. Rimush shook his head.

We have supplies to last six months in the pod, he said.

Surely you’ve noticed the creatures that scurry before our feet. Mazacarth eyed his friend.

I have, said Rimush. Nothing seems to approach our height. We are rivaled only by some of the stalky shoots with greenish tufts. In their shade hide the creatures that our steps have scattered.

They watch us, smiled Mazacarth. I’m sure they’ve never seen creatures of our size.

Or perhaps they have and thus know to hide, Rimush said, his eyes sweeping the horizon.

How small they seem to us, said Mazacarth. Can you imagine the difficulty our masters would have in seeing them? The apparent largeness of the Saplu in this land, only presently an intriguing circumstance, would prove egregiously repercussive in the years to come. For the moment the Saplu merely were fascinated by the scampering beasts. The filmy eyes of the scaly, stone-like animals sinking into the river and emerging again, the bared teeth of the furred ones howling and bristling their shoulders at the Saplus’ steps; these the workers marveled at. The dense herds of dumber looking beasts who startled easily but moved always as a unit even when running to evade the approaching Saplu were suggested by numerous pioneers as potential sustenance. However none proved as intriguing as the hairy bipeds that traveled in small groups and crouched in the shade of what tree could be found or in the tall grass and watched the Saplu pass by.

See them point at us, said Rimush to Mazacarth. They make gestures to each other. The pair walked on in silence through the jungling marsh beside the great river they had elected to follow. The distance between the two rivers had grown substantially as the Saplu strayed from their pod and now the second had disappeared from view completely. Mazacarth and the rest of the workers noticed now a troubling condition of the land they explored. The space between the rivers that had magnified during their march occupied only sand. The green at their feet did not stray from the bank of the river and the sun overhead, now approaching its peak, was nothing that the Saplu had encountered before. The pace of their march slowed greatly and some of their number strayed from the troop to kneel at the bank and cup the river to their faces. Mazacarth joined his comrades at the bank, wetting his face and scooping water to the back of his neck. It was here at the riverbed that Mazcarth uncovered his most puzzling mystery. Embedded in the murk and detritus of the bank rested the remains of two beasts exposed just enough to capture his interest. Gingerly he dipped his fingers into the mud and excavated the remains. He studied the muddy pile in his hand for a moment and then placed his other hand over the top in such a way as to leave room enough for water to pass through without letting the bones escape. Now he dipped his hands into the water and allowed the river to wash the mud from the bones. Satisfied, he drew his hands from the water and uncupped them to reveal his discovery. He had uncovered the skeletons of two of the bipeds. One was much larger than the other, the smaller most likely an infant. The former was cradling the latter in its arms. Mazacarth lowered his face to examine more closely. The infant seemed to have suffered a kind of trauma to its head. The skull was badly fractured, the cracks radiating from a crater where the creature must have been struck with something small but with great force, a projectile or perhaps the end of a stick. The larger biped presented no such injuries, in fact from what Mazacarth could determine no injuries whatsoever. He puzzled over the many questions his discovery posed. Was the fate of the child an accident or something deliberate? Had the biped brought it to the riverbed to wash the wound? To try and save it perhaps? Most puzzling of all, had the larger biped died of its own volition? Had it succumbed to grief over the loss of the child? Mazacarth pondered over what kind of creature would stay here in the mud to mourn, ignoring hunger and thirst until finally perishing. His quandary was aborted as urgency superseded his curiosity. Behind him the other workers were shouting and crowding around one of their number on his knees and his hands cupping his mouth. Mazacarth returned the bones in his hand to their place in the mud and rose to his feet to join the anxious crowd. The Saplu on his knees was a short and pinkish man called Akurgal. His dark blood trickled from between his fingers and down his wrists as he pressed his hands to his mouth and groaned.

What happened? Mazacarth asked. Akurgal moaned through his fingers something incomprehensible in response. Not understanding, Mazacarth probed again, Why do you bleed so?  Now the wounded Saplu removed his hands from his mouth.

One of those verminous, slithering things! He cried. I put my face down in the water and it snapped me with its jaws.

It’s true, one of the other Saplu spoke. Very small, but the scaly beast is a strong thing. Its jaws could not be unhinged. Aku ripped it from his lip and threw the thing across the water but it seemed hardly injured and merley slithered back into hiding. The Saplu pointed at the river. Mazacarth stepped closer to examine the bleeding and moaning Akurgal.

Badly mangled, but it will heal, he said. Take two men with you and return to the pod to dress that wound. Mazacarth helped his fellow worker to stand. It seems this land has no intent to welcome us with kindness. We should take care not to underestimate this place and to consider our intrusions more cautiously. With the excitement diffused the troop gathered itself and continued forward, keeping closer to the sand at their right than to the bank, their eyes darting up and down the river.

…

The troop marched for hours in the sweltering heat. The abyss of sand at their right disconcerted the Saplus the longer they trekked. As weariness threatened to immobilize the disheartened workers, fearing they stood only to perish in this harsh climate, a wave of excitement channeled through the assembly of pioneers. The first to bare witness the immensity of splendor approaching was the ambitious and discerning Mazacarth. As they drew nearer to the inviting topographical deviation they became enthralled with the promising environmental changes around them. Here the river curved as a great S and between its massive bends sprawled abundant fauna.

Maz, there is much to be made use of here. Rimush’s voice was barely a whisper as he stared wide eyed at the grandeur before him. His assertion was accurate; the soil beneath the Saplus’ feet was black with rich sediment for here the river flooded and shifted back and forth between the rains. Trees, in dense groves, grew tall and in their shade teamed herds of the dumber looking beasts which grazed the lush grasses, meandering on occasion to the riverbank to drink. Perhaps six meters below the riverbed and spanning a hundred miles in any direction lay the most precious treasure of all; presently undetected by the Saplu but boasting much utility. Beneath the sand there had formed an accumulation many centuries worth of sea-dwelling animals sporting shells composed of calcium carbonate and, supplemented with the fecal debris of these creatures as well as the decay of coral and various algae, condensed into an organic sediment which over a course of hundreds of years had lithified into solid and durable limestone. This marvelous rock sprawled for miles beneath the great desert from which the sea had retreated centuries ago. These massive deposits of limestone checkered by its shiny cousin dolomite were destined quite literally to become the building blocks of the civilization the Saplus were tasked to erect. As if to confirm the fortuitous discovery of this grand oasis encumbered with resources, the amulet suspended from Mazacarth’s neck lit up and produced a sharp frequency the sound of which alerted the troop to cease their march and await order. Shortly thereafter the order came. Mazacarth raised the amulet above his head to facilitate its transmission of the troop’s instructions which rang out as follows: Absorb the land, learn it. Tame what you can, eradicate the obstacles. Dispatching supplies in ten minutes. The words repeated twice more before the glowing amulet dulled again. Murmurs swept through the pioneers as they looked to the skies. They watched the great ship as several small pods, practically invisible at their height, burst from its hull and plummeted toward them. They watched in awe of the spiraling capsules gaining velocity and whistling as they plunged toward the earth below. Some covered their ears, others raised their hands instinctively to cover their faces as the pods slammed into the sand some thirty meters from the river, sending up clouds of dust and dotting the earth with craters. Trailing behind them sailed the final and largest pod identical to that which the troop had stepped from hours ago. This pod continuously righted itself, maintaining stability and slowing its descent with fiery thrusters that singed the sand as the capsule touched down with a feather’s grace. The sounds of metal moving against itself rang out across the desert as the capsules burst open one by one, their doors unhinging themselves and planting into the sand. Each contained the tools to execute the Saplu mission. Some sported the equipment necessary to quarry, others to cultivate vegetation. Some capsules were outfitted with instruments for identifying organic material and others for treating infection. Stumbling out of the final pod as wide-eyed as the pioneers had been themselves was the most valuable resource of all: a troop of thirty Saplu women. With these many skyborne gifts, the Saplus would ready the world for their masters above. The great travail of this undertaking was unseeable in the beginning and for this reason the Saplu embraced their labor in excitement at first; tilling the earth to hold seed and ravaging it to bear the precious limestone, marveling all the while at the cusp of civilization at the tips of their muddied and calloused fingers. As their toil endured, this excitement was soon replaced with despair; the enormity of their burden seemed to grow each day and many realized that the mission’s completion would not be seen in their lifetimes, perhaps not even the lifetimes of their children. But it was Mazacarth who impelled the disheartened pioneers and rekindled time after time their enthusiasm when the life of the harsh frontier was at its darkest.

…

It was a particularly bleak day that found Mazacarth standing beside his concubine, Inanu  and their only son, Enlil. Bloodied with work, the boy’s hands trembled at his sides as his fiery eyes bore into the ground at his feet. They stood in silence long before Mazacarth spoke, the unfinished and grandiose framework of the day’s effort standing tauntingly so before them.

There is purpose for all we do, Enlil. Mazacarth placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. Enlil, the first Saplu child of this world, was born into a life of drudgery and today his frustrations with the unrewarding life this was had reached a fever pitch. Twelve times this world had circled its sun since Enlil’s birth and he was more wary of every new summer than the last. Today the heat of the sun had claimed the life of Rimush, a kind man and a friend to Mazacarth and his son. Thinking now only to console Enlil that they might resume construction, Mazacarth recounted a story older than the first Saplu fathers. He spoke the words that had traveled so many centuries aboard the great ship, the same words his father had spoken as Mazacarth and the other Saplu children drifted to sleep and raced past the stars. Enlil looked jaded, but grew more curious as his father recited the tale that unfolded as such:

Many ages ago, Man was only another beast among many beasts. Knowledge and reason belonged only to the gods. The gods, with their great knowledge, had created the heavens and the world below the heavens. The world below was so small that the gods could not touch it without risking its destruction. To move the world and change its seasons and tides the gods designed a marvelous system of gears, invisible to Man but incalculably determinant of his experience in the world around him. These gears depreciated in size as they descended from the heavens so that the first of them resting in the heavens was so massive only a god could turn it, but the last gear was so small it could turn the world of man without destroying it.

For centuries the men in the world below knew nothing of the invisible mechanisms that made life possible. A river of mystic explanations for the world and its nature rushed from their minds and became the numerous religions of the world. The men grew to despise one another for their opposed beliefs, waging war in the name of each their own lords and spilling much blood for the sake of their inadequate imaginings of the gods who knew nothing of the chaos unraveling amongst the world of men below them for they saw only to the changing of the seasons and the pull of the tides.

As the world grew older so did Man and his religions. These became cultures and Man divided itself into nations, some flourishing at the peril of others. Nations subjugated each other and the raging of wars only intensified. There was much imbalance in the world of Man and harmony seemed unobtainable. But in all this darkness a faint and flickering light emerged. Man had grown unsatisfied with the abundance of mystery that remained in the wake of all religious explanations. Man began to search for answers.

First Man looked to the stars, for these had intrigued him for all of time and no two religions of Man shared an explanation for them. Where one suggested the stars were the eyes of the gods, another insisted they were the light of the heavens leaking down from cracks in the sky and yet another suggested they were the souls of Man’s ancestors. Of course these explanations were only inventions of Man’s imagination and it wasn’t until he began to scrutinize the stars, to examine their habits that he discovered they possessed properties that could be quantified. Man soon realized that his knowledge of the stars, their patterns and relative positions to his own, boasted many useful applications and that endeavoring to discover more about the world he lived in would serve only to his benefit.

Man had caught a glimpse of the gears that turned his world and as the ages passed, these gears became ever more visible. Man uncovered the secrets of all things, from the nature of illness to the attraction of objects to each other and at the height of this era of knowledge, Man had revealed nearly every gear that turned his world and made life possible. And as he gazed up their incredible chain descending from the heavens a bold and absurd thought occurred to him. He determined that all of his life and experience was a result of this chain of gears, that he had lived his life at the mercy of this convoluted chain of mechanisms. He believed that his knowledge of the gears entitled him to the right to free himself from their influence and further, to dispense his own influence upon them. So Man created a lever to place at his end of the chain of gears, to turn it the other way. He contended that for all of time the gods had imposed their will on Man through this chain, but now the time had come for Man to impose his will on the heavens. But Man was unprepared for the consequences of his lever for when he pulled it, he leveraged the weight of the smallest of the gears at his end of the chain against the great weight of the massive gears resting in the heavens. The chain broke in a fiery storm of chaos and the world of Man was divided from the heavens. Man was untethered and his world, without the tending of the gods, succumbed to destruction. The seasons and tides ran amok and much devastation ensued. To save himself, Man took to the stars he had once gazed upon with wonder so many ages ago and set out to create a world of his own.

Enlil blinked incredulously at his father.

For centuries they searched, said Mazacarth. And now they have found this place and it is our duty to make a home of it.

Where does that story come from? Enlil’s voice was raw with the pain of his friend’s death. Mazacarth stared at his son for a moment.

That is the story of our masters and it comes from their world. It came with them on the ship and for centuries it has been the story that fathers tell their sons.

Is it true? Again Mazacarth was silent for this was a question he had asked his own father.

There is much that is true about the story, he finally said. But a story does not need to be factual to have truth. Not looking completely satisfied, Enlil questioned his father once more:

If that is the story of our masters, what is our story? Now Mazacarth looked puzzled.

Our story began on the ship, he said. Where our people were born.

How does it end? Enlil’s eyes were sharp and dark. Mazacarth held his son’s gaze a moment before answering.

I cannot say how our story ends, but I know that it continues with resuming our work. And so Mazacarth and Enlil with much reluctance retrieved their tools and returned to their labor, each frowning to himself for both felt unsatisfied with the father’s answer to his son’s question. The dubious Enlil, in the few spare moments he could find during the great work of carving rock from the earth and burrowing out the entrance to what would become the third riverside channel dug by the Saplu, further questioned his father’s story. What is religion? What is war? What destruction had their masters brought upon themselves? Mazacarth struggled to respond sufficiently to these inquiries for the understanding of these concepts had faded throughout the centuries; blurring to the point of becoming but only words.

We must reserve our time and our breath for our work, Enlil. Mazacarth smiled at his son to show him some kind of reassurance being that his words could provide none. So they worked on in silence, father and son cutting away at the earth and clearing debris, carving lumber from the trees the other Saplu uprooted from the groves. Inanu ensured a ready supply of drinking water taken from the river and purified. The channel was dug and several more and these were connected to form the first of the Saplu goldmines. The construction of the mine was completed in twelve weeks. Standing before the mine and watching the other workers file in with picks and and shovels and pile out with arms and buckets filled with the rubble from which they rendered the shining metal, Enlil wondered to himself of the purpose. The gold was no rarity along the river and work never seemed to end. He asked of his father, We take the meat of the herd beasts to feed ourselves, we carve the flat rock from the earth to make with our homes, the trees we cut to make more tools with or to burn that we may cook our meat, but why is our effort spent most of all to remove this gold from the ground? Mazacarth did not answer for he could fashion no suitable explanation for the very question that had plagued his own mind for the many arduous weeks of labor he and his people had endeavored. We use it not ourselves, but send it in scores everyday skyward to your masters.

To our masters, child. This was all that Mazacarth said.

Their hunger for this metal can never be satisfied, frowned Enlil.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

MUCH MORE TO COME