The ancients said that this man and his companions traveled north, working marvels as he went and they never saw him again . . . He gave men instructions, how they should live, speaking of great love and kindness . . . admonishing them to be good and cause no harm or injury to others, but to love and show charity to all . . . He lifted huge stones by his word alone, he controlled fire, healed the sick by touch, spoke every tongue and knew of many miracles . . . They left as they came in the sea on a ‘plume of foam’. . . . In most places he was called Viracocha.”
Inca myth
No longer can be seen the book of Popol Vuh which the kings had in olden times . . . The original book, written long ago, existed, but now its sight is hidden but to the searcher and to the thinker.
Anonymous 16th Century Inca chronicler
The ‘First Men’ . . . measured the round face of the earth . . . examined the four points of the arch of the sky . . . succeeded in seeing, succeeded in knowing all that there is in the world . . . But the ‘dark’ heart of heaven blew mist into their eyes . . . In this way all the wisdom and all the knowledge of the ‘First Men,’ their memory of their origin, and their beginning were destroyed.
The Mayan Popol Vuh
A shooting star zoomed across the star-filled Andean night sky. Hydrogen and Oxygen looked at each other reminiscently. The group sat just outside the cave. They had much to discuss.
“I wonder when we will find the Chamber of Destiny and the Universal Sign,” Hydrogen mumbled impatiently.
“First, we need to locate my old library,” Silicone said, “and when it was destroyed. We cannot choose the Transportal’s time-space delivery point, so for now we can only go where it sends us.”
“How can we learn to make it send us where we want?” Carbon asked.
“I am not sure if that’s a question of learning or of wisdom,” Silicone replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Knowledge and wisdom are quite different,” Silicone said. “Knowledge comes from information, but wisdom comes from becoming worthy to attain it, and one becomes experiences.”
“What Transportal?”
“Because the nature of its power means people with undesirable objectives cannot use it. Think about it. People could influence historic events and change the future in many ways. That’s a risky proposition in the hands of the unwise. As its location is hidden, so are its exact navigational powers. We will have to learn about it on our way. Until then, we must rely on the Transportal’s guidance.”
Dim light filtering through the catacombs of roots and branches about the cave’s barely visible mouth announced the dawn. Our friends, ready for their next journey, gathered around the mouth of the Transportal.
Seconds later, they were in an enclosed room without windows and lit only by oil lamps mounted on the perfectly fitted, polished masonry walls. The stone blocks, cut at random angles, fit together like a jigsaw puzzle without mortar. Their stonemasons clearly knew advanced geometry and quarrying and polishing techniques. Calcium went to investigate. Regularly carved niches in the masonry walls housed statues and sculptures of finely crafted shining metal or glazed worthy by comprehending meaningful
does all that have to do with the ceramic. Exquisite cushions lay atop beautifully patterned colorful rugs on one side of the room, the colors of the textiles full of life even in the dim light. The people who created the space knew craftsmanship and geometry, how to dye fabric, and most significantly had a sense of beauty.
A man dressed in beautiful garments sat crosslegged on a cushion, seeming to stare at nothing, a sorrowful gaze. He was small but fit, his complexion golden brown and his jet-black hair tied behind his head. On a small table before him were corn cakes and water.
“Where are we?” Nitrogen asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Silicone said.
A metal lock clicked, and a heavy wooden door
swung open. A tall, fair-skinned, bearded man walked in. He wore tight black pants, leather boots, slack white shirt, and a leather vest. A steel sword swung on one side, a flint-type pistol on the other. He stood silently before the sitting man. Another man, who resembled the sitting man, but more simply dressed, accompanied him. The tall man bowed, bent his left knee, and said, “Greetings. I regret having to meet you for the first time in such circumstances.”
The second man different language for the moved nor spoke, just gazing into the distance as if to ignore them.
“Who are they?” Carbon asked. “What language does the second man speak?”
“This is Atahualpa, the Great Inca, leader of the Empire of the Sun. They are speaking the imperial language, Quechua,” a voice replied.
Our friends turned toward the voice and saw a brilliantly shining earthling in a beautifully engraved ring on the sitting man’s finger.
“I am Gold,” It said. “Who are you, and how did spoke translating into a sitting man, who neither you get here?”
Silicone briefed Gold about their journey. “Would you translate for us?”
“Yes, of course,” Gold said. “I am just as curious about what is happening as you are. Who is this tall bearded man?”
“He is Francisco Pizarro, the commanding general and the official envoy of the Spanish Crown.” The answer came from the sword at the man’s waist. “I am Iron. Forgive my unsavory housing. I regret that it was not of my choosing. Please allow me to offer my assistance.”
“Yes,” Silicone said, “the strong one. I know of you.”
“I overheard your conversation, and your journey fascinates me. I also seek my true destiny away from this sword.”
Just then, Atahualpa addressed Pizarro, without turning his gaze. “Who are you…really? And what brings you to our sacred land?”
“I am Comandante Francisco Pizarro of the Court of Their Majesties, the Holy Roman Emperor and Empress, Monarchs of the Roman Catholic faithful, Ferdinand and Isabella, King and Queen of Spain and all her territories. I represent their Majesties. We are here to offer the heathen savages of this land the righteous truth and virtuous ways of Christianity, the Catholic Church, and His Holiness the Pope, Christ’s vicar on earth.”
“You speak many big words,” Atahualpa countered, “but you say nothing. You say you have come from another world across the great ocean, from the direction of the rising Sun Lord, the blessed spirit of the universe, and you mean to teach us your ways?”
“Yes. We bring your people the gospel of salvation.”
“Salvation? Today you massacred thousands of unarmed people who came to greet you in peace in Cajamarca. Even as they fled in fear and confusion, or tried to surrender.”
“I regret that my men went too far. We meant to capture you alive, not to entourage.”
“Capture me? Why?”
“Because you are civilized people. Even if we bring reinforcements, we are outnumbered. Our strategy was to take you hostage and force your people to surrender and cooperate.”
“You call us savages, yet you say we are civilized? Who was that angry fat man who gave me that object today? What did he want?”
“That was Hernando de Luque, a Christian friar. He tried to give you our Holy Bible. He meant to have you submit to it. When you insulted him by throwing the sacred gospels on the ground, he called on my men to defend the Faith—and to rescue his fat flesh from you unpredictable infidels. That is why there was so much havoc. I regret I could not capture you with less bloodshed.”
“No one greeted us or spoke to us in our language,” Atahualpa replied. “We came unarmed to talk peacefully. We brought the Sacred Disc to show our intentions.”
“We meant to capture you, not talk. The Friar interfered too early and spoiled my plans. The needless bloodshed could have been avoided. Now, what was that golden disc?”
“The Sacred Disc you melted down and destroyed came from Coricancha, the holy Temple of the Sun, handed down from generation to generation by our ancestors. It represents Sun’s passage through the seasons and the Houses of Heaven. It is a calendar of time, yearly seasons, ages of the world, and more. Long slaughter your unarmed
a numerous, powerful, ago, our Heavenly Lord Viracocha taught it to our ancestors. And we brought it to you as a test.”
“Who is Viracocha? And what did you mean to test?”
“Viracocha is mankind’s patron and protector, the teacher of all knowledge, science, agriculture, the building arts, and civilization. He taught the secrets of the Sacred Disc to our ancestors. Legends say he came from the sea in a ship shaped like a winged dragon/serpent, riding on a sea of foam and fire. Twelve disciples accompanied him. The legends say they were all tall men with shining skin. They wore flowing white capes and hoods of a strange shining metal. They came many thousands of years ago when our ancestors were few, the sole survivors of a great calamity. They lived in caves like animals, having forgotten their forefathers’ civilization. Viracocha and his disciples traveled all along the coast and into the mountains, coaxing the survivors out of their caves. He recalled to them civilization, science, language, and the art of building. He gave them plant seeds and showed them how to raise crops on terraced highland slopes and to irrigate them from water reservoirs and canals. Most important, he taught them the word, laws, and how man and nature can live in peace. The Sacred Disc came from another of Viracocha’s gifts, the study of the heavens. The temple priests teach their disciples such heavenly sciences.”
“And why did you present it to us as a test?” Pizarro asked again.
“After you landed on the coast, the priests, the nobles, and the commoners argued about who you really are. Many think you are the fulfillment of the prophecies, Viracocha’s disciples returning to us. You are all tall, fair-skinned men, and you wear white capes and metallic helmets. And you carry Viracocha’s sacred sign.”
“What sign?”
“The two crossed lines, the cross is one of the signs of Viracocha.”
“You mean the crucifix, the Christian cross. Yes, it is one of our holy symbols as well. But what prophecies?”
“Viracocha’s good work ended in a fight with Pachacamac, the god of war on Earth. He came after and fought Viracocha. Pachacamac forced Viracocha’s followers to withdraw across the skies and the oceans, but ancient prophecies speak of Viracocha’s return to restore peace and harmony on Earth. Many believe the arrival of your ships from across the seas are the fulfillment of the ancient prophecies. Others do not.”
“The Aztec king, Moctezuma,” Silicone recalled, “mistook the Spanish conquistador Cortez for the Aztec god-hero Quetzalcoatl. His sign is a plumed serpent. At first they welcomed the Spanish and presented a jeweled feather cape and a golden serpentine mask, but the hospitality ended quickly when the Aztecs realized their mistake. Then they slaughtered most of the Spaniards, and few survivors escaped. Soon the Spanish returned and subjugated them. They brought with them European diseases that wiped out much of the native population.”
“We were en-route to Cuzco, our capital,” Atahualpa resumed. “We stopped to rest at the thermal springs just east of Cajamarca, when we heard of your landing. When you came quickly to Cajamarca, I knew you were seeking me. Ignoring the advice of cautious elders, I decided to greet you and test you with the Sacred Disc. Your response to it would reveal your identity and purpose. We had heard of the atrocities committed in the nations to the north. I decided to greet you personally, since you could be the gods returning. I came in peace, and peaceful greeting must be respected. But today you violated that basic honored rule. You confirmed the pessimists’ worst fears. You are unenlightened men and certainly not disciples of Viracocha. We demand an apology. Release me at once and return to your own land.”
“You are in no position to negotiate,” Pizarro sneered. “I cannot grant your request.”
Atahualpa sighed angrily. “I feared so.”
“You say your gods looked like us. You mean they were like men?”
Atahualpa pointed to two golden statues displayed in opposing niches. One was a man wearing a