Save the Last Bullet for God (34 page)

“Legends accompany disasters. In Australia,
the plague was told as a being wandering the streets with a blue
light and spilling through open windows carrying death. The
population of most towns couldn’t return to their previous numbers
for centuries. Three years after the epidemic, a second wave
infected newborn children of the survivors and killed the weak
ones. The Black Death killed Mongolians in the East; half of the
population of China was lost; the Middle East and Arab
civilizations suffered as well. All known civilizations got their
share. The only unexpected exception happened in Medina. The
disease didn’t enter that city. Somehow it remained sterile.”

I was filled with questions. “Are you
implying that it was a conscious action to continue the bloodline
of those who had certain desired characteristics and to demolish
those with undesirable characteristics?”

“Yes, you almost perceive it right,
sir.”

“And we did this?”

“Almost, sir.”

“Who am I? What am I? Tell me so that this
nonsense can stop.”

“Sir, I wish you were really ready.
Finishing this program is the only thing I want, but not yet. Now,
if you will excuse me, I have to leave the main power off for a
while in order to check the results of the system error and make
some necessary repairs.”

“What will I do then? Listen to music?”

“No, sir, but I can start a low density
reminder program for you.”

“For example?”

“You lived in the early period after
Columbus as an explorer, and you traveled to Central and South
America where the Incan Empire ruled millions of people. You were
Francisco Pizarro—”

“Are you kidding me? Well…If there are no
germs or viruses, then you can start. You don’t need to ask; I’m
ready.”

Francisco Pizarro

It had been weeks since I unloaded and set
fire to our ship, eliminating all hope of return. We were in virgin
lands 1500 miles away from our headquarters. Our small force had
been advancing toward the northwest without encountering any
obstacles. Except to get fresh fruit and food from their villages,
we avoided unnecessary contact with the locals.

As we moved into the country’s interior, we
looked for gold and silver. From information we pieced together
from the locals we learned we were traveling through an empire, one
two to three times larger than Spain. If the numbers weren’t
exaggerated, it was home to millions.

We also learned of a great city and hoped
that the locals weren’t exaggerating about the tons of precious
metals there. Our aims were clear: to convert the heathens, win
their respect, find gold, conquer the land, and become the subject
of legends.

By applying slight pressure (some might call
it “torture”) to the locals, we learned that the emperor had just
returned from winning a great war and was now in his capital with
his princes and commanders celebrating his victory. The locals
hinted that the emperor knew about us. But we hadn’t come this far
to run away. Sending a local as a messenger, we stated that we
wished to meet the emperor, pay him our respects and offer gifts
from the king of our faraway land.

We waited for the emperor’s reply and used
the time to count supplies and make minor repairs. We had 106
infantrymen, 62 cavalrymen, 13 guns, 1 cannon, 2 barrels of gun
powder, and enough dry supplies for 3 weeks of sparing use.

A few days later, messengers returned with a
small contingent of the imperial army and told us that we would
have the honor of meeting their emperor, “the Son of the Sun.”

After a two-day journey, we reached an
imperial army outpost in the evening. We were startled by the sea
of people. They filled a valley floor of 20 to 30 miles. We had
never seen such a great number of soldiers together. Admittedly, I
thought we had made a mistake and had perhaps better turn back, but
of course we didn’t. We couldn’t. Atahualpa, the Son of the Sun and
ruler of the Incas, had his messengers take us to a ruined village
to spend the night.

That night we didn’t sleep a wink. I counted
the camp fires and the possible number of people around each one
and grew frightened. 80 to 100 thousand soldiers fresh from a
recent victory was the last thing a commander would like to take
on. But, I thought, if it was our fate, then it was inevitable. At
first light, I held a meeting with my soldiers to tell them my
strategy.

I ordered three soldiers to take the cannon
and hide in the building on the corner of the village hall and told
my cavalrymen to hide on both sides of the hall among the low walls
and ruined buildings. Meanwhile, my infantry took position in the
deepest corner of the village hall. Their formation was like an
inverted triangle, with those in front hiding those in the back.
Finally, I took my position with the priest ahead of me, and six
soldiers slightly behind me carrying worthless gifts. As the sun
rose in the sky, hundreds and thousands of servants in square, thin
clothes appeared and went about their work, preparing the way for
their emperor. Those in the front moved ahead, sweeping the ground,
cleaning away any stones and rubbish and even plucking the grass,
while the servants behind them scattered flowers.

Their work finished, the servants stood
aside as hundreds of soldiers lined up, formed a wall, and used
their trenches as shields. As I trembled before this grandeur, a
unit of guards arrived. It was composed of human monsters armored
in the same bright gold and silver that filled the hall.

Finally, Atahualpa appeared in a bright blue
outfit adorned with golden ornaments. He was carried on a
magnificent palanquin on the shoulders of six men. When two or
three smaller palanquins arrived (carrying princes and commanders),
the picture was complete. The Incans had succeeded in making us
feel helpless and small.

At my signal, our priest, Vincente de
Valverde, took a few steps forward and approached the palanquin of
the emperor.

“I am a priest of God,” Valverde, said. “I
teach the Christian religion, and I am here to teach you in the
same way. What I teach is in this book. It contains the word of
God.”

The emperor was so grand that he didn’t look
like he belonged to this world. He bent over the book and checked
its weight before he began to analyze it, turning it over and over.
He touched the cover with his hand. It was obvious that he had no
idea what he held. Valverde graciously showed him how to open the
book. The emperor maintained his composure as he clumsily tried to
turn the pages. However, the mystery and the potential
attractiveness of the thing in his hand quickly faded. He suddenly
threw the book aside and looked around for his next gift.

The priest withdrew in shock. He ran toward
us and yelled, “Put this enemy in his place! This animal threw our
holy book on the ground. He doesn’t accept the word of God!”

On my signal, the hidden cannon fired a
volley into the Incan masses and scattered their blood everywhere.
The servants and soldiers reacted in shock and fear as gunfire
rained down upon them. Their screams didn’t affect us.

From both sides, the infantry and cavalry
advanced and easily crushed the Incans’ armor, which was made of
only thin fabric and reeds. Amidst the bloodbath, I rushed toward
the emperor with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. As
I fought, I cried out “Santiago!” It was as if I were pruning
shrubs in a thick forest made of arms and legs. My only obstacles
to the emperor were the corpses falling before me.

When I reach the palanquin of Atahualpa, the
son of the setting Sun, he was helplessly watching us tear through
his people. My sword first aimed at the arms that held the
palanquin and cut them down. As I did, the palanquin swayed from
side to side. Those still alive tried to raise their emperor out of
my reach. I pressed forward, slipping on the intestines of those
I’d disemboweled and slowly approached the emperor. As I dispatched
the rest of his servants, the palanquin turned on its side and the
emperor was in my hands—a captive.

When the locals saw their ruler as a captive
covered in blood, they were paralyzed with horror.

That was only the beginning of our massacre.
With our cavalry in front and infantry following, we rushed through
the endless valley and put all to the sword as if we were
harvesting wheat. Ripped heads, arms, and hands were scattered
everywhere. The green fields, used to absorbing the pouring rain,
now flooded with blood. Puddles of bloody mud were everywhere. Many
of the locals, who had never seen horses before, died under the
shoes of our mounts. I was certain such devastation hadn’t happened
before in the history of the world, and knew it wouldn’t happen
again. When night finally came, our blind and broken swords could
find no more people to kill.

With no losses, our army of 168 defeated
their army of one-hundred thousand. Unlike the previous night, that
night we slept peacefully, thinking about how much ransom we would
demand for the captive emperor. I had awoken as an overmatched
commander and went to sleep as a mighty conqueror.

Days later, Incan messengers came to show
respect and ask for the return of their emperor. We showed them a
house in the ruined village and said to them, “If you fill this
house with gold and silver, you can get your king back.”

As small groups of villagers began to bring
anything of gold, we rested and enjoyed the scenery. When the gold
the locals brought began to spill out of the massive house, a
community of thousands arrived with songs and ceremonies to take
back their emperor.

We waited at a distance as the endless wall
of humans approached their emperor. When they moved to untie his
hands and feet, we told them they had misunderstood us. We hadn’t
asked for a bail and we never said that we would set their king
free. Despair and hopelessness now appeared on their faces.

Someone from the crowd picked up a stone and
threw it at me. The others followed as if it was a ceremony. They
threw whatever they could pick up and I feared that it could be our
end. Now, it was us who were the desperate ones, and we were at
risk of dying an agonizing death under thousands of stones.

We began to stagger under the blows and
tried to hide behind our shields, but in our fear, we didn’t
realize that we were not the target of the stones. The villagers
had instead chosen to cut off their gangrenous arm. The emperor
died from the barrage, and fittingly, his body was buried under the
pile of stones cast his way.

When the ritual execution and burial was
over, I gave the command to attack. Just as we had the day before,
we brought death upon the thousands of unarmed people in front of
us. Before night, we had a dead king, a vast amount of gold, and
countless corpses.

Limbo

“Sir?”

“…”

“Sir! Sir!”

“…”

Cmnd://(Emergency*Therapeutic*Protocole)>:double*dose-Memory*Transfusion

“Good luck, Sir.”

…[START]

1941, Princeton

Wilhelm Reich/Albert Einstein

Einstein finally responded to my insistent
letters and was kind enough to visit my laboratory. When he
appeared, with his trademark charm and messy, gray hair, he also
brought many journalists and assistants with him. As he posed for
the photographers, I waited by his side.

Once inside my laboratory, he remained
formal and maintained a distant attitude as I explained the
machine’s schema and how it functioned. Einstein only wandered
around, pretending to listen to me. It was very obvious he’d
already decided I was a quack and only saw me as a chance for
publicity. When I insisted on a particular point, he called one of
his assistants and gave some orders before standing aside and
leaving me alone with his disciple. I knew the type: the sycophant
who only exists to affirm his teachers’ ideas and applaud his
feelings and attitudes. Like a little Einstein, he tried hard not
to listen or understand me and only pretended to perform a few
hasty measurements with the few devices he’d brought along.

Instead of humoring this stupid puppet, I
begged Einstein to consider this discovery as something that could
be immensely valuable for humanity. When he seemed to grow more
tolerant and interested, I let it slip that the technology came
from beings outside Earth. That was the beginning of the end.

“What is the Vril community?” he asked. “Did
you say Maria Orsic?”

As I attempted to answer, he again lost all
interest and kept me busy with useless conversation while he
signaled his assistant to hurry up with his eyes.

“When I use it to treat my patients, I get
extremely successful results,” I explained. “I have even discovered
that this machine can make rain during droughts.”

“Rain?” He had completely shut me out in his
mind now, and I could swear he was thinking about leaving without
his assistant. “Actually, my field of study is very different,” he
said.

“Why has the existence of life’s energy been
unknown until now?” I asked. “If this machine works then wouldn’t
it be proof of the existence of other beings from other worlds and
couldn’t it possibly lead us to an understanding of the nature of
life itself?”

“Since the 1920s,” Einstein said, “I have
sought a theory that can explain everything, but I’m really not
interested in this stuff. Just like quantum theory, it’s nonsense.
Please forgive my bluntness, but soon, you and others like you, I
mean to say, those who deal with quantum theory, will learn how
wrong these ideas are.”

I scoffed at his dismissal. “You haven’t
produced a single thing since 1917,” I said. “You don’t have a
single constructive activity except being against the war. Don’t
you feel that you’re struggling down a blind alley?” I asked, now
growing aggressive.