The Days of Peleg Read online

  Publisher: Enoch Press

  Baltimore, Marylan

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described here are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher.

  The Days of Peleg

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2007 Jon Saboe

  Fourth Edition

  V 4.0 R 3.3

  Author photo © 2008 by Kafi Washington-Brown

  ePub conversion by Atom Press ([email protected])

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ISBN-10: 1-59800-809-9

  ISBN-13: 978-1-59800-809-8

  Printed in the United States of America

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction and all characters in this book are the products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities with actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental (with one obvious exception). Historical figures and locations are also presented fictitiously.

  Dedication

  To Dave Ranck, my friend and fellow programmer, who encouraged me at the inception of this work.

  As he told me: Everyone has a book inside them; they just need to put it on paper

  Thank you for downloading my book. Please REVIEW this book on Amazon. I need your feedback to make the next version better. Thank you so much!

  Acknowledgements

  First I must thank my lovely and gracious wife, Valory, for her patience and support as she endured my long evenings—and the frequent visits to the computer in the middle of the night as I was struck by new brainstorms.

  I also wish to thank my brother, Tracy, for his work on editing and critiquing the manuscript, and for his discovery of numerous inconsistencies.

  Others who read through portions of the manuscript (while it was still a work in progress) are: Cherelle Robertson; Deborah Robertson; Della Rembert; Rob Smith; and my cover illustrator, Joe Zucker. I am most thankful for their observations, comments, and corrections.

  I wish to express a very special note of thanks to Dr. Jack Cuozzo and Dr. Ruth Beechick, who both graciously agreed to read through this book before publication, and offered their invaluable insight and expert wisdom. I am forever indebted to their unsolicited kindness and generosity.

  All remaining errors and discrepancies are due solely to my own ineptitude and/or intractability, and I take full responsibility for them.

  Finally, I would like to acknowledge the following sources: The epigraph for chapter 27 is taken from Job 26:7. The epigraph for chapter 31 is a quote from The Neurotic’s Notebook by Mignon McLaughlin, and the one for chapter 32 is by Kurt Vonnegut. The rest are contrivances of my own making. Also, the opening to chapter 33 was stolen from the fourth chapter of Job, and may be perceived by some to be grievously misapplied.

  Introduction

  Modern researchers in archeology (and to some extent, anthropology) are currently trapped in a self-imposed dilemma as they attempt to explain or rationalize the growing number of ‘out-of-place artifacts’ (collectively known as OOPARTS) that are constantly being discovered—both in archeological digs and in ancient writings.

  A diatonic flute carved from a bear bone found in a Neanderthal cave. Advanced metallurgy in ancient South America—including platinum jewelry. Star charts of the constellation Orion carved onto a mammoth’s tusk, and a table for calculating human gestation periods on another.

  Golden models that look like jets—complete with elevator flaps on their wings. A planetary calculating device (utilizing differential gears) numerically displaying relative planetary positions along with lunar cycles and solar eclipses.1 Stone walls in South America covered with carved faces depicting all of the known races of humanity—plus some undeterminable. The 35-ton slab of man-made purple glass found at the foundation of Snefru’s pyramid at Dahshur.

  Maps produced in the 1300s and 1400s (which claimed to be researched from much older maps) showing an ice-free Antarctica, comprised of two large land masses—exactly as it currently exists underneath miles of ice. Strangely, these maps accurately reflect errors consistent with ancient Egyptian inaccuracies of the earth’s size and circumference, implying that the original maps were discovered and “corrected” by the Egyptians, becoming the source maps for those done in the middle ages.2

  Documentation and evidence for sophisticated medical practices such as dental cavity fillings, reliable pregnancy tests, cataract removal, and cosmetic surgery.

  But probably the most impressive testimonies to humanity’s ancient accomplishments are the monuments themselves: gigantic megaliths which are scattered around the globe; and still challenge our twenty-first century minds as we attempt to contemplate how they were built.

  What first comes to mind are the seventy-story pyramids of Egypt: but what are often overlooked are the pyramids and other monuments build in South America—including entire cities built at over 2 miles above sea level; some of which used perfectly fitted stones weighing more than 400 tons! (Totally immovable by any modern equipment.) Not to mention the underwater pyramids found off of the coasts of Japan and Costa Rica.3

  The two horns of the aforementioned dilemma are this: Modern archaeologists and anthropologists find themselves in one of two camps. The majority (“consensus”4) view is to regard all such discoveries as though they did not exist. It is assumed that any find or research that contradicts the reigning paradigm is erroneous, and is summarily dismissed or ignored.

  The alternate camp, often regarded as the fringe or “crackpot” view, actively studies these enigmas, and generally ascribes their existence to extra-terrestrial intelligences or “ancient astronauts”. It should be pointed out that this group is actually the more “scientific” of the two, since they at least acknowledge the evidence and attempt to follow it where it leads.

  The novel, A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, examines this dilemma in the setting of a futuristic, yet regressive, post-atomic holocaust society attempting to decipher advanced archaeological data from our current, technological era. The moral of the story is this: The researcher and historian always carry their own blindness and presuppositions with them, and, as a result, can never comprehend, objectively, the object of their study. Only as our own technology grows can we begin to understand the meaning and purpose behind many of the ancient artifacts and documents that are just now being discovered.

  I began this introduction by saying that this dilemma was “self-imposed”. Both camps are constrained by the naturalistic blinders of Darwinism which presume (in typical arrogant, Victorian chauvinism) that the history of mankind has been a steady assent up the hill of progress—a journey which began in the brutish ignorance of prehistory. Simply put, ancient man was too stupid, and too primitive to accomplish any of the technologies that continue to be unearthed.

  This presupposition forces any researcher (if they are determined to follow the evidence) into the fringe camp. Since superior intelligence is required for OOPARTS, and since everyone knows that ancient man could not provide it, they are forced to solicit intelligence from elsewhere.

  However, if one removes the archaic, darwinistic cobwebs from one’s mind, a third alternative appears; one which satisfies the true scientist's curiosity, and yet allows him or her to engage in legitimate research—not the specious speculations of extraterrestrial “what-ifs”, or the anthropologist's insistence that all early societies shou
ld be analyzed in the light of their inevitable “primitive” superstitions. (i.e. Any unidentifiable artifact is inevitably assumed to have been used in “tribal religious ceremonies”, and any other possible use is summarily dismissed.)

  The radical, liberating thought which emerges after stepping out from under Naturalism’s shadow is this:

  What if humanity has always been intelligent?

  What if the human race was placed on earth, complete with innate abilities in language, abstract thought, and independent decision making? What if, regardless of whether they chose to live in caves, jungles, or cities, they were endowed with comparable mental abilities—regardless of how they chose to demonstrate it? (Even today there is no such thing as a non-complex, “primitive” language.)

  What if we have always had unlimited imaginations, sarcasm, vices, and other attributes which make us distinctly human?

  The Days of Peleg attempts to encompass this alternate paradigm in the guise of a historical science-fiction novel.

  The great author, Isaac Asimov, once instructed aspiring science-fiction writers to limit the number of impossibilities in their books to “one per story”. This meant that, if you are going to include faster than light travel in your novel, don’t also include telepathy or time travel. Your audience may suspend disbelief once, but will become less accommodating as more is required of them.

  I have attempted to do one better in The Days of Peleg. Throughout this book I have endeavored to ensure that everything within it is at least possible. These pages explore a line of history that could have happened.

  One final note: Powers far greater than mine have asked me to explain that, chronologically, the events in chapter 1 occur between chapters 30 and 31.

  Jon Saboe

  December, 2006

  Contents

  Part I: The Seeker

  Part II: The Search

  Part III: The Source

  Part IV: The Seed

  Afterword: Fact vs. Fiction

  Appendix A: What the Sumerians Knew

  Appendix B: Essay on the Origin of Races by Shem

  Appendix C: Recommended Reading

  Appendix D: Glossary

  Part I

  The Seeker

  Equipped with his five senses, man explores the universe

  around him and calls the adventure Science.

  Edwin Hubble

  In the beginning did Darkness, black as Erebus, inhabit an eternal, infinite void. In the growing confusion of colliding elements, an unconscious Desire emerged, which was the origin of all existence.

  Though it knew not itself, Desire formed a union with Darkness and brought forth a great shiny cosmic egg, and when it was broken, it spewed forth a slimy, viscous Mot into the void, out of which came forth the stars and sun.

  The air, now heated from the glow of land and sea, formed great lightning and winds, and a vast downpour of heavenly waters mixed with Mot, forming the first simple creatures, both visible and invisible, from which came more complex animals—first those without, and then those with sensation.

  By the heat of the sun, things were made to split off and clash with one another, causing thunder and lightning, and thus awoke beings endowed with intelligence who began to stir on the earth and took fright on land and sea as males and females—who could now ponder the heavens: the sun, moon, stars, and planets.

  Thus arose consciousness.

  Ancient Phoenician Origins Myth

  Chapter 1

  Failure

  “Knowledge of one’s present is impossible without knowledge of one’s past.”

  He held his breath so he could listen better. If only his pounding heart would stop making so much noise! Tipping his head forward, he tried to sense any movement from his pursuers—if they were still there.

  Satisfied that he was alone for the moment, he continued creeping forward in the darkness, trying to determine the incline of the coarse stone floor with his fingertips. Keep moving upward. A bad plan was better than no plan, he thought. Anything to reassure himself.

  He heard faint wisps of air being pumped from the lower levels. Some kind of geo-thermal heating system. The fingers on his right hand caught on the rough edges of a small floor-vent at the edge of the room. Now he had a wall.

  He stood up slowly, with his left hand over his head to check for clearance. Keeping his palm along the wall, he began walking slowly in the direction that seemed most upward. His eyes ached from their fruitless straining in the pitch-black of the underground labyrinth, and he forced them closed for the thousandth time. Other than contributing to his headache, they were useless to him at the moment.

  The wall under his hand suddenly made a ninety-degree angle to the right, and he continued to follow it. The ambient sound had changed and he clicked his tongue softly. Listening for the echo, he realized he had moved from a large chamber into a much smaller area—probably a hall or corridor. The floor also seemed to be rising faster.

  He heard movement behind him and froze. It was very distant, but there were definitely two or three of them. Their quiet pursuit was pushing subtle drafts of cold air into the space behind him. He resumed a quicker pace, feeling the ground before him with his toes, and keeping a hand above and in front to avoid any collisions.

  Suddenly the floor disappeared in front of him and his eyes snapped open. He tipped forward, pressing his hand as hard as possible against the wall. His sweating palm slipped and he twisted to his right, crouching. His right foot flew out from under him and he tumbled into the wall, banging his left knee. Extending his legs forward, he sprawled out, face down and caught the edge with his hands. With relief, he realized that he had almost stumbled down a flight of stairs. His knee had caught the top step and torn his leggings. He rolled over and sat on the steps, exploring his knee with his fingers. He didn’t feel any blood.

  Voices. He cursed his heat-blindness. He knew he was giving off a signature, but he was unsure whether his pursuers could see it. Since he had seen no light source, it was best to assume they could. Back home, he knew that Mentors had clear infrared vision, and just about everyone else could sense heat to some extent. But to him, infrared was just as black as everything else in this underground community.

  Straining to see up over the edge of the stairs, he heard them moving in his direction. He ducked down behind the lip, and began a slow, feet-first descent, sliding on his stomach. After a few steps, he reached a new level. He didn’t have time to determine the incline of the floor, so he stood up, reached for the wall, and continued to follow it. Perhaps he would find an air vent that he could fit into, and climb up through the levels.

  The wall made another right angle, and he entered into a much larger room. He continued around the edge, expecting at any moment to collide with a chair or shelf. Suddenly, he heard more rustling coming towards him. The sounds seemed to originate from a point thirty meters in front of him and at least four meters above his head. As he listened, he determined that four or five additional searchers were descending a long stone staircase in front of him.

  He got down on all fours and scrambled across the coarse floor directly toward where he guessed the middle of the room was. At about the point where he thought he was near the center, his head suddenly thumped into something made of stone. Feeling around, he discovered what seemed to be a leg for a large stone table. He found his way under the table and crouched, hoping he would not be discovered.

  The two groups of pursuers acknowledged each other as they entered the room from opposite directions. They began to speak quietly, and Peleg tried to hear what was being said. Aboard the Urbat, his primary position was Chief Cartographer (and replacement Navigator), but his other area of expertise was linguistics. Although he was not a Mentor, he had been born within months of the Great Awakening, and his resulting language skills had afforded him good positions and some privileges.

  He could make out the syllables okay, but the words were nothing like he had ever heard before. Ag
ain he wondered, as he had often done over the past twelve years, How many languages are there, anyway? Suddenly, they stopped talking, and he could sense them scanning the room. One of them gave a sharp cry, and in the resulting commotion, he could only assume he had been spotted.

  He had one magnesium button left. The ship’s chemist, Mentor Thaxad, claimed he had ‘calcined’ it from dolomite, along with some other strange words. It was not something Peleg had been trained in, but he knew these buttons were used for signaling and starting fires. Thaxad’s “secret mix” was coated in some kind of oxide, and sealed in a waterproof ceramic shell with casein. A small, second chamber was on top of the button, and Peleg began to generate as much saliva as he could muster while his pursuers closed in on him.

  Once he had a mouthful, he filled the reservoir with spit and tore a small piece of cloth from his shirt with his teeth. They were almost to the table now, and he could sense them crouching down. He plugged the chamber with the cloth, and rushed out from under the table, ramming into their knees. He plowed through them, their hands reaching for him as they turned from the table. He raised the button and flung it as hard as he could against the wall, burying his face inside of his other elbow.

  A sideways jet of white-hot flame erupted from the wall as the container crashed and the contents of the two chambers mingled. The pursuers screamed in agony and threw their arms over their faces as the wall which they had been looking at became incandescent. Peleg uncovered his eyes, and in the afterglow he saw the long staircase from which the second group had descended. Glancing around the room he saw books, maps and even some charts. He even thought he recognized some Aenochian script! If only he had time….