Human (56 page)

“What's up, Chan? Too much culture for you?” Orrin teased.

“Too much age for me, old man.”

“Then you're forgetting your bread and butter,” Orrin grinned. “Music
is
physics. The mathematical equations that govern the vibrations on those cello strings are the same ones that underpin our universe - simple harmonic motions. Do you need a refresher, lad?”

Phil snorted in laughter. “O, I can officially say you're a man in love.” He shook his head with a smile. “Thanks for the insight, but I'll leave you with your rocks,” he nodded at Ivy's amulet, sitting on the desk next to Orrin, “and your music. I need some zzz’s. I’ll be back later.”

Phil turned away but was stopped short. Jayne scowled and stepped out of his way.

“Phil,” she greeted coldly.

“Jayne,” Phil replied smoothly and strutted from the room.

“I’ve got something for you.” Jayne walked directly to Orrin and handed him two large sheets of paper. On each was a coloured photocopy. The shapes were faded and mottled, barely discernable and Orrin rotated them, trying to find the correct way to view them.

“What are they?” Orrin asked.

“Cave paintings.” Jayne nodded toward the table and sat herself down, placing the photographs between them. “Most of my undergraduate research focused on prehistoric cave paintings. I transferred to residue analysis because the opportunity came up with Professor Ellery. But these,” she sucked in her breath, clearly enthralled, “these are what it’s all about.”

“Okay.” As uninspiring as the paintings seemed, Orrin waited for an explanation.

“I’ve been looking into the archaeological research done for
Homo floresiensis
in its native environment,” Jayne continued. “There isn’t a lot of information to be honest, and what little there is hasn’t been widely promoted. Perhaps scientists are trying to keep their humanity as unrecognisable as possible?” Jayne frowned. “Anyway, I happened across these cave paintings in an old journal. They were attributed to prehistoric sapiens, but I think they’ve got it wrong. Let’s start with this one; I think you’ll recognise the shape.”

Orrin studied the large image Jayne had pushed toward him. Pale smudges seemed randomly placed on a grey rock wall. Orrin guessed the paint was originally golden in colour, but now only hints remained, the majority faded to almost white.

“Sorry, I don’t see it. What am I looking at?”

Jayne grabbed a pen and began tracing over the image. The five smudges were suddenly familiar.

“It’s the Southern Cross.” Orrin exclaimed. “You think the hobbits did this painting? How old is it?”

“About fifty thousand years,” said Jayne. “The same radio carbon date as the amulet and river stone. But there’s more.” With the tip of the pen, she isolated five more marks, further from the constellation on the rock and so faint, they were easily overlooked. Two complete filled circles with the shell of an empty circle between them and two vertical semi-circles, opposing each other in direction and spaced evenly between the others. The entire group arced around Alpha Centuri and its four stars.

“Shite! Hold on a minute.” Orrin dashed over to his computer. “Stellar mapping software - I use it for astronomical surveys,” he explained. He input the dates of the energy transference and the black monitor littered with stars. “Look, Jayne. This is the last full moon. See the position of the Southern Cross in relation to the moon…. Now follow the moon to its half crescent waning position… new moon… waxing crescent…Oh my god, it’s perfectly aligned.”

Jayne watched the screen, her mouth agape. “I thought it was a reference to their position in Flores - a stellar map, but it's –”

“A calendar!” Orrin finished for her. “A fifty-thousand-year old calendar. This map gives the relative positions of the full moon and Southern Cross the night Ivy was taken – and look,” he pointed to the final darkened orb, “the next full moon! The full moon that we will see in one week, right here, when the energy fields will peak again.” Orrin walked back to the photographs on the table, astonished. “They predicted when the time shift was going to occur. Or recorded it after it happened.”

“There’s more.” Jayne pulled a second photograph from under the first and laid it on top. Again the faded ochre smudges made little sense to Orrin, although this time he could discern that multiple colours had been used. “This was from the same shelter,” Jayne said, “further west and quite low to the ground. It’s a little harder to make out.” Once again she used the black pen to highlight what Orrin couldn’t see. Quickly the shapes became obvious, and once complete, Orrin was mute with the implications.

It was a simple composition, almost juvenile. A black creature with a single arched line representing the body, long arms and a heart shaped face. The animal was joined at one hand to a smaller figure, on a simple crossed body in dark umber. Beside them both, a white figure, tall and simply shaped with a hint of face. Now faded almost to nothing, bright red ochre had once crowned its head.

Orrin stared. He couldn’t breathe.

“It’s her,” he said.

“What does it mean?” Jayne whispered.

“I don’t know.”

This time, the knowledge that he was right, truly right, left Orrin in a cold sweat. Ivy had touched this place, fifty thousand years ago, with them.

And Kyah. The black shape with rounded shoulders and a hunched back, curling under its rump. The black lines were understated, but somehow brought the cold stone to life. Most strange perhaps, was the hint of its hand connection to the diminutive third figure. Was it deliberate? Was the other figure one of them? A
Homo floresiensis
?

But she, Ivy, stole back his attention. Orrin closed his eyes and flaming red ochre, as it once was, burned beneath his eyelids, haunting him. Orrin saw her there, in those weathered rubs of clay on rock.

The flyaway hair, the pale face. The emerald eyes that hid from him and scorched him all at once.

These paintings told a story. Orrin traced the faded constellation with his fingertips, memorising it.

“I’m sorry, Orrin,” Jayne said quietly. “I suppose it’s only useful if you can figure it out.”

Orrin looked up at her. He’d forgotten she was there. He felt lost. “I'll figure it out,” he said.

Jayne shuffled uncomfortably. “I have stuff to do, um, phytoliths need classifying…” Jayne walked to the door leaving the photographs on the table. She hesitated. “I wish I could help more,” she said.

“You’re helping more than you know,” Orrin smiled.

Jayne sighed and turned to leave.

“I can help, not that anyone cares.” Dale’s voice rose, uncharacteristically bitter. Jayne spun back, surprised. It was clear that in her enthusiasm to show Orrin the photographs, she hadn't even noticed him. Dale curled his shoulders behind the computer monitor, looking resentful and strangely young.

“Oh, Dave, I’m so sorry!” Jayne said.

“Dale.”

“Of course. Dale.” Jayne looked abashed.

“How?” Orrin asked, frowning.

“Well, it seemed fairly clear you didn’t want my input,” Dale said, resentfully, “so while you were talking, I decided to look more into the fifteen geographical hotspots that peaked with the energy mutations.”

“And?” Orrin pressed. His annoyance at Dale’s immaturity itched but he ignored it for the promise of new information.

“And I found a common link,” Dale said, refusing to meet their eyes. “They all have constant low frequency electromagnetic fields and each one is emitting photons in random phase, peaking at the energy surge. Including the Liang Bua Cave, which was the strongest by far. They’re all natural fields, with a geological commonality.”

“Which is?” Orrin pushed.

Dale hesitated, scowling, and then said, “They’re all archaeological sites.”

“Seriously?” Jayne exclaimed. She moved close behind Dale, looking intently at his screen. “Where?”

“All over,” Dale said. He shifted nervously in his chair. “Badanj Cave in Bosnia, the Mayan site of Acacaxtla in Mexico, Biache-Saint-Vaast – a proto-Neanderthal site in France… there are others in North Africa, China, Tanzania…”

“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph.” Orrin strode across the room and scanned the map on Dale’s monitor.
Well I’ll be damned.
Each set of co-ordinates had a matching archaeological site associated with it.

“What about this one?” Orrin asked, pointing at the screen.

“I’m not sure,” Dale said. “That’s the Atlantic Ocean. There can’t be any sites out there.” He looked agitated at the discrepancy. “It’s probably a fault in the data record.”

“Dimi doesn’t make mistakes,” Orrin said.

Dale's face hardened but Jayne looked thoughtful.

“A major archaeological site… underwater… perhaps- Atlantis?” she offered.

“That’s just a myth,” Dale said.

“So says you,” Jayne said. She pointed to the screen. “Look at the position, West of the Straight of Gibraltar. Isn’t that where Plato suggested? In any case, I don’t know of any other site it could be.”

“Right,” Dale scoffed, avoiding Orrin's glare. “So by default it must be a lost empire built by the God of the Sea, who rode six winged horses?” His mouth was set in a hard line. “It’s an anomaly in the data record.”

Jayne straightened up. “You never know. Maybe we have the exact co-ordinates here. You’ll be famous, Dale.” She smiled at him, and Dale, clearly confused at whether he was being made fun of, hunched further into his keyboard, eyes down and straight-faced.

Jayne’s smile faltered and Orrin scowled at the younger man’s rudeness.

“Let me walk you out,” Orrin said.

Outside the building, a small gathering of students were making their way toward the Eastern end of campus. They held placards and waved flags emblazoned with the words 'Stand with CHRIST'.

“They're picketing outside the Anatomy Building,” said Jayne, noting Orrin's interest. “I passed a group earlier and they gave me a flyer. Apparently the media finally got wind of hobbit euthanasia on campus, so now the C.H.R.I.S.T. group is all over it.” She shuffled in her bag, pulling out a piece of paper. “Here, keep it. I've got to get back to the lab.” Jayne flicked her hand in a gesture of farewell and walked away, leaving Orrin holding the pamphlet.

It was titled with the acronym C.H.R.I.S.T. and underscored by its meaning -
Christian coalition for Human Rights In Soul Truth.
An image of a hobbit watermarked the background, haloed by an ethereal crown. Underneath, it read:

In the eyes of God, humanity is defined only by the gift of an Immortal soul within the body. Our hobbit brothers were made in God’s image and are self-aware. They possess his spirit and therefore have a soul.

'You shall not murder,' Exodus 20.13

End the genocide of God's humanity.

Walk with C.H.R.I.S.T.

It seemed yet another definition of humanity had now arisen from the rubble of cultural apocalypse. Orrin frowned, turning back to the physics building as his mobile phone rang. He pressed the receiver.

“Dimi?”

“Orrin!” Dimi said, urgently. “You need to stop whatever you’re doing and delete those files.”

“What do you mean? Why? You just sent them to -”

“Listen, I don’t have time to explain. Just do it. Delete them.”

“No!” Orrin said.

“Yes! Pretend you never spoke to me,” Dimi pushed. “I’ve got to cut this thing loose, O. I can’t be involved with you. It’s too big for either of us.”

“What do you mean cut it loose? You know I can’t do that Dimi! This whole damn world is banjaxed on account of me. I did this, I have to fix it!” Orrin’s hand was shaking.

“You can’t fix it, O!” Dimi yelled. “All you’re going to do is land yourself in some serious shit. I shouldn’t have sent the files to you. This energy surge is not just another investigation anymore.”

“Why? Is it the Director? Cassandra whoever?”

“She’s more influential than I thought.” Dimi’s breath shuddered down the line. “I underestimated her. It seems she has some personal stake in uncovering this energy surge - I think she wants to control it herself. She's pulling in favours everywhere to track down who’s responsible. The military is getting involved; NASA has been tracking all our data. I think she knows I moved those files. If she traces them to you, I don’t know what could happen. Get out while you still can. Destroy the files.”

“But we need this data -”

“Just let it go, man,” Dimi pleaded.

“I can’t! I can’t let her go!” Orrin cried. The phone was shaking in his hand.

“You have to. This isn’t a choice anymore, O.”

“It’s always a choice!” Orrin said. “What the hell, Dimi? You’re braver than this! I know you! This isn’t right. What the hell as this woman got over you? What’s she done?”

Silence

“Dimi?”

“I can’t guarantee that I know you anymore Orrin,” Dimi said quietly. “I’ve warned you. You’re on your own now.”

The line went dead.

The air was acrid and stale. Ivy’s eyes pricked as she entered the cave again and quiet tears fell onto the ashen ground. Kyah had seen the fire first, safe in her tree nest by the cave entrance. Her shrieks had found Ivy in the dark, and as the first flames exploded by the central hearth, Ivy was already on her feet. They were lucky. Minutes of sleep could have cost countless more lives
.