Visitation - Reality (book 1 of 2)

SURVIVAL

“TORAN, MY REPORT TELLS me that you have not long returned from an extended visit to the large southern continent over to the west, how did it go?”

“Quite well, actually, Sir,” Toran replied from the over-comfortable meeting room chair.

“Please just call me Sebius, let's not be too formal for the present,” as he attempted to infer an informal embracing attitude but without a single change of tone, only flatness in his voice. It came across simply as the patronising and boring voice of an office bound politico and Toran was not at all impressed.

He continued, “The official reports and presentations to others up the chain are to come later, keep the formalities until then, OK? Just sit back, relax and put me in the picture, in your own time.”

Toran was more than pleased to comply but he felt uncomfortable in Sebius' presence having to simply get this over and done with as soon as possible. He was tired from an exhausting period in an arduous climate with difficult people. He was still suffering from the numerous insect bites, despite the various spray concoctions provided, and tired from the final day of preparing to leave, with all that entailed.

The time difference effect from a journey that involved travelling half way round the globe in a very short period of time was having its effect.

He tried to maintain a concentrated relaxation, to get through this unnecessary formality so soon after his arrival home, and reduce the delay to reaching a hot bath and bed. His mind wandered to the pleasure of the hot, scented and relaxing water with a glass of something alcoholic in his hand and the soft comfort of a bed that would follow.

Pulling his attention to the matter in hand, he continued.

“Sebius,” Toran started off with a reserve of energy he found from somewhere. “They viewed me, as some sort of God.”

“This was to be expected and is in accord with our history records of these human people and what they often do. I guess this came in very useful as it really did afford me some sort of protection.”

“I didn’t get the poisoned arrows as a first greeting, which was some relief.”

“Yes, but what did you do?” Sebius questioned. “Come on spill the beans, just how much did you achieve?”

He was pushing for information that might provide him with an advantage, an inside edge in front of the Seniors when Toran presented his full report and questions were being asked. Toran was unconcerned about this, there was no point in holding back, he had undertaken many field missions before this one and had a better idea, probably, than Sebius as to how the Seniors viewed participation in projects.

Sebius was definitely not a field man and had climbed the ladder as far as he had through other paths. Toran was aware that this had been his last mission and there was something altogether different in the pipeline that would be announced in the near future. He had to have patience and keep Sebius happy, for the next week or so.

“The written report I have here,” Sebius continued in his flat, boring manner, “is simply an overall project briefing summary and concerns itself only with the aims and duration of your visit, not with the detail or of the results.”

“I assume that you will be filing a detailed audit of your involvement with the local inhabitants together with an analysis of its effectiveness, in accordance with standing orders. I would like to hear from you first hand and before the paperwork is prepared, about how it all went. Don’t go into detail; just give me an overall impression of what you got up to?”

This was the kind of simplistic approach that Sebius employed to extract sufficient snippets, from those he considered junior to him, to impress the Seniors at the appropriate time, in furthering his own progression up the chain, or so he thought. His colleagues had warned Toran of this, those many months ago when his new project was given to him and Sebius had been named as the reporting Project Manager.

What Sebius was unaware of was that one of the Seniors had approached Toran discretely on the eve of his departure to have a quiet word advising of their plans for him upon his successful return.

This fillip had provided Toran with an additional degree of motivation during the difficult field project that he had been about to embark on. It had been genuinely meant; Seniors were not known for telling lies and Toran was keeping the pleasure of its secret for a later occasion.

Toran reached for his coffee, the intense aroma teasing his senses as the gentle swirl of steam from its surface also took his attention. He had returned less than an hour ago and desperately needed refreshment of a more civilised kind, especially in this company. The local semi-fermented drink that he had been required to imbibe for some twelve months when in the company of the local tribes, had been taking its toll on him.

No matter how hard he had tried, copious amounts of the warm liquid had been providing him with headaches and hangovers of increasing intensity. The possibility of drinking his provision of fresh water, when unnoticed, had been reduced inversely by the duration of the time spent with these people.

On other missions, personal welfare had been the top priority and easy to accommodate, but on this one the full and continuous involvement with the local peoples amongst the jungles had been essential to ensure their survival; going 'native' had to be placed ahead of all other considerations.

He sipped at his hot coffee carefully from the edge of the cup without managing a slurp and sunk back into the over soft office chair.

“I needed that,” he almost sighed. “You just don’t know how wonderful the sensation is, almost as good as the hot bath I will be enjoying shortly, the cool sheets on my bed and a drop of something to ease me to a good night’s sleep.”

He hoped the suggestion would be picked up on but it wasn't. Sebius was either unaware of the significance of what had been said or, more than likely, he ignored others feelings totally. Toran considered that it was almost certain to be the latter.

Toran's eyes closed at the thought of what was to come and with the combined effect of the chair's deep softness, nearly dropped into the sleep state he so desired. With a slight start, not unnoticed by Sebius, his eyes opened fully and he attempted to sit up straight, not an easy option in such chairs.

The snippets of information he offered to provide a quick overall picture of information did not impress; Toran should have known better than to expect him to be impressed. He proceeded to give his informal view of events with the effort required to maintain his focus on clear speech.

The formal report and analysis could wait until the following week, which is what the correct procedure should be. For now, just run through the thoughts that would come naturally, speak them clearly and head for the warm bath that awaited him.

“I showed the survivors how to grow their indigenous crops more efficiently, including our nutritious beans and a few other root crops I provided them with, and instructed their potentially learned ones in their cultivation. I must be careful with that word, ‘learned’; it is only as relative as their mumbo jumbo religion which kept getting in the way of any purely rational thought or education.”

“Their curiosity for mathematics, once they got the hang of its usefulness, needed no further encouragement, they simply could not absorb enough. Providing them with a rational calendar had the same effect, as did some basic astronomy.”

“They understood the explanation I gave them of what they were seeing in the night sky and how to use this information. As a branch of the human species, I would offer the opinion that they are well on the way to climbing that elusive ladder of civilisation.”

Toran moved the subject matter away from the technical stuff, there would be plenty of time during the following week to compile his copious notes into the form of a report.

He continued, “I also tried to explain to them our Ancient Story but for some reason, that didn’t stick, they were curious in a sort of general way; anything specific only confused them.”

“The idea of people traversing the depths of space from other planets was simply too much; Gods flying through the heavens was not a problem, so I left the topic at that. They had no terms of reference against which to make comparisons and it was straight over their heads, so to speak.”

“A lot of the instruction I provided ended up as some sort of magic, but they got the general grasp eventually of what I was trying to teach them. They were a curious lot, rejecting all the earlier teachings from ourselves generations ago, because their religious view of the climate problems continued to get in the way.”

“I had to be careful as I was almost on the point, several times, of transgressing their current religious views and that could have been fatal, even for a ‘God’. They still had their innate sense of curiosity and this may be the key, eventually, for them to get over this particular hurdle. It’s a great pity that most of their learned types of previous times had almost disappeared entirely.”

“The impression I was receiving was that perhaps a few had survived their religious purges and sacrifices but did not wish to overtly display their talents.”

“Even with my presence these few could not announce their ability openly, they were of the wrong class and likely to succumb to the savagery of those holding power. All that was left of that ‘intellectual’ class was just a few small groupings.”

“They had been hunted down as somehow responsible for what befell them previously, when the rains no longer came. Being clever but not being aware of the effects of the climate change that had overcome them all, denying them the annual rainfalls, led them to become the scapegoats; sad really.”

“So you set them on the road to survival, and with an insight into the higher practical things that over time will help them recover?” Sebius queried further.

He was still looking for more detailed information on the key points from this informal reporting in case those, above them both, decided to require some sort of briefing this evening. They were most unlikely to, but Sebius was a nervous worrying kind, prone to over anticipation to ensure his own continued position; he lacked, at the most basic level, a deep sense of self-confidence.

“Yes, I guess so,” Toran went on. “But I’m afraid that their belief systems are all the more developed as a result of the climatic disaster and I will surely end up as a figure of some sort of simple religious importance. This could be useful in the long run, in my estimate, as it will keep them in the ways I have explained and to that end they will probably survive.”

“You haven’t heard the stories then?” Sebius queried again with an inward smile developing on his broad face. He was keeping something up his sleeve that Toran knew nothing about. He had the advantage but was incapable of keeping the pleasure of this to himself.

“No. What stories?” Toran asked bemused, noticing the grin but failing to otherwise respond to the banality.

“We sent out a scout two weeks ago, in disguise of course, to make a follow-up reconnaissance before you returned,” Sebius calmly disclosed with a barely disguised hint of pleasure on his face.

“You were not checking up on me, were you?” Toran asked now with a tone of indignation creeping into his voice.

“Not at all my friend,” Sebius responded patronisingly, obviously lying through his teeth.

“It became a matter of policy, my policy, while you were away to observe the effects that the teachings of our field agents were having from, as it were, the pupils point of view.”

Toran was least pleased, this was something that had never happened before as far as he knew and could easily have compromised the whole project. He would keep his complaints until much later and at the appropriate time.

“He has come back with an interesting report,” Sebius continued with his secret smile unchanged, “that confirms what you have just said, but it’s slightly more extreme than that.”

“You are correct in the view that you have ended up becoming a figure of religious significance. You have been enshrined in their mythical views as a mixture of an ethereal magician with long white hair and blue eyes that can fly in the sky, walk over water . . .”

“. . . that must mean the speedboat that I managed to take with me . . .” Toran interjected just to break up his flow.

“. . . and has promised to return the next time they are in trouble,” he continued in the same smirching manner as though Toran had not uttered a word.

“You won’t be forgotten for a very long time.”

“I think that the length of these climate change cycles will see me out,” Toran stated the obvious.

“Staying alive for another 10,000 years is a bit out of the question, still good to know that my words have had the desired effect. Will the records be updated for our future generations?”

“Why did I ask that last question,” he thought to himself. “Of course the records are updated, that happens as soon as possible. I'm more tired than I thought and he's taking advantage of me.”

“Only when your full report is prepared at which point, the scout’s report will also be added to yours although you will be able to chat with him and get to see it beforehand,” Sebius pursued his self ingratiating tone. “Then after it has been reviewed, I think you might deserve a little break.”

 “You mean I can then actually have a few months off?” Toran laughingly replied, pretending to be making a flippant joke but actually using mock humour to mask his real feelings.

“This guy is getting up my nose,” Toran mused to himself. “I was warned, just play it easy, get this over and done with, give him his moment of advantage and then get away for some sleep.”

“Oh and by the way,” Sebius continued, “do you know what name these native peoples have given you?”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t Toran,” he answered almost sarcastically with the thoughts of a hot bath and welcoming sleep coming strongly to the forefront of his thoughts again.

He could almost sense the pleasure of the sweat and smells lofting from his body as he sank into the forgiving waters of a well prepared bath.

“Control yourself,” he managed to think pulling himself back to reality, “just a little longer and put up with it.”

“No my friend ...” Sebius responded somewhat nonchalantly, “it wasn't Toran. ”

“You're not my friend, you boring prat,” went through his wandering thoughts.

“It’s a sort of funny word and the best that I can manage is ‘Cucucan’. The scout will pronounce it better when you meet him. I cannot get my tongue round that strange local lingo.”

“A pity you can't make better use of our language either,” Toran mused to himself.

“It means, I believe, 'the feathered serpent',” Sebius smiled in his pompous almost smirking manner, thinking he was being clever.

“I know what you mean,” Toran offered, trying hard not to raise any sort of smile. “You're very close but the word is Kulkulcan, and it does mean ‘feathered serpent’.”

“I've had to hear me being called that name for some months now. The serpent bit, as you know, is common with many groups of people across the world to refer to the attributes of intelligence and knowledge; a misunderstanding from the early attempts to explain the DNA spiral that has still not gone away.”

“The feathered bit concerns my appearance, as with many former field operatives, of arriving in a flying craft that impresses the locals so; only beings with wings can fly, hence the feathered flying serpent.”

Without trying to impress, Toran just rolled the information off his tongue in an easy fashion. Had he not been well educated, particularly in the field of anthropology, he could not have become a field operative.

Sebius did not see it that way and thought Toran was trying to impress him which, in his eyes, was not a good career move. His face lost its smile but he would not betray his new perceived view of Toran as some sort of upstart not knowing his true place in the important status hierarchy. Such matters resonated more with Sebius than the receipt of a filed report from someone who had to get his hands dirty for a living.

He continued with an unsmiling face and Toran got the message, but he didn't care, he was more concerned with leaving this unnecessary meeting to find the comfort of that warm bath and a soft bed which would not leave his thoughts.

“Those beneath my position should not be privy to superior thoughts,” Sebius thought as he continued to drone on with an attempt at friendliness to conceal his inner feelings of Toran.

“Even worse was the name attributed to you further along the coast of ‘Ketzacotel’.”

“He can't even pronounce that properly either,” thought Toran. “This guy really is second rate. How the hell did he rise this far in the pecking order?”

“I don't know if that has been pronounced correctly but I'm reading it straight off the scout's report. I'm sure that he will articulate these names much better than I can when you finally get to meet him. I really cannot get my tongue round any of the local lingoes. I do wish these people were a little more educated.”

“That's close; does this guy actually have the talent or is this just a coincidence? It has to be a coincidence, I'm tired and I may be seeing what's not there. I know both of the names he's referring to and he's correct, he knows nothing of the languages employed by the various tribes and has no idea at all of how to speak them.”

“I'm definitely not helping him, that would really make him look foolish and I can do without the aggravation that would bring. I need to get this finished with; just hold on, can't be much longer now.”

“I suppose that goes with the job,” Toran offered casually, keeping his cool and shrugging his shoulders in an empathetic mannerism that suggested that Sebius was being humorous and that he was joining in; but with the greatest of concentrated effort.

“One name in one place and another elsewhere,” Toran laughed.

“With each new project, I end up with a new name or two for posterity; have they been logged?”

The latter question should have received a curt dismissal as everything was required to be logged. Sebius did not pick up on this, which only confirmed Toran's view of his incompetence.

 “It all awaits the detailed words of your report, which I feel assured that you will be progressing and have completed by tomorrow.”

“No it doesn't. Ye Gods, you're a complete waste of time, and that kind of pressure I do not need. The report does not need to be in draft form for another week yet so you will not be seeing it tomorrow.”

Toran pulled himself together, unnoticed by Sebius and kept his tone of voice in the same pleasant manner as though undisturbed by the banal person opposite him.

“Any further news on the long term predictions?” Toran asked, pushing the meeting beyond where he wanted it to be; finished.

Toran had made the decision to ask, trying to turn Sebius' own tactics round gently. He had to be availed of some sort of outline himself because he may have to present his work in the context of predicted events but there again he had all this week and into the next to source the background information he needed.

If he were to be summoned to a Senior's meeting in the next ten minutes, at least a smattering of events and predictions would be needed, but this was most unlikely. The outline would not really be needed until Toran's report was well into preparation and that would not be tonight or tomorrow morning, probably in a few days time or so.

“Is this Sebius' tactics, to draw me in to play a game of his own choosing? Am I starting to dance to his tune? Is he really that good? Careful, clear your head, just a little longer.”

“Changing the subject,” Sebius' smile grew broader with these words. “What have you got planned for next year?”

“Is he reading my mind ?” shot obliquely through Toran's mind.

“No you fool, that's why he has a desk job. If he had that talent he definitely would not be sat opposite me. Perhaps he is playing to a strategy that I'm not picking up on.”

“Play his stupid game for a little bit longer.”

“Well there is still the remains of a civilisation in the Middle East,” Toran continued, “that appears to need a bit of a kick start. I’ll monitor them for a while and if need be, give them a lengthy visit also.”

Toran was not entirely making this up but he got the impression that Sebius was actually taking it in. He knew already that his name was not on the list for this or any other field project.

A brief word before he had set off from the same Senior who had been waiting to greet him with a warm handshake on his return. Coming down the ramp from the craft, that greeting had a little more than mere formality and it confirmed exactly where his next duties lay.

He was to be offered the post of a special advisor to the Seniors and at the same level of authority; he was to become, in effect a Senior himself. His many years of successful fieldwork were being recognised and this toady was not going to find out, not yet.

“Keep providing him with a few snippets of incorrect information and he'll end up making himself look silly, hopefully with somebody important.”

Toran smiled internally.

“And of course, there are the northern tribes, although the cold climes are not my province, but who knows, I hear the ruggedness of the snow clad mountains can be quite impressive,” Toran offered deceptively.

“Keep feeding him the shit and sooner or later he will choke on it.”

Toran was playing to his own rules now.

“Right you are, I don’t want you to spoil that nice tan you’ve developed,” Sebius came back with.

He was becoming insufferable with his stupid, false humour but Toran had to keep it cool a ltlle bit longer.

“Toran, get a grip, you're starting to play his game again. Don't get sucked in; get this over and done with quickly and get out of here.”

Toran reached for his cup and casually took it to the thermos flask to pour out a slight refill. More coffee and matching thoughts of the warm water that awaited him and something properly alcoholic and cold, before sinking into his soft bed, were now foremost in his thoughts. Adding a little creamer in the same casual mode he was adopting, a slow stir with the spoon and then sipping in a most gentle manner was designed to annoy.

“You know this coffee seems to be much better than I remember it. I guess that happens when these field trips become lengthy,” Toran added to the scene.

“Concentrate,” he thought and demanded of himself.

“Stay focussed. Stay in work mode; do not let Sebius see me starting to sag. Look professional, try not to look too much in control of the situation or this idiot will respond; you don’t want that. ”

It would not have done his reputation and impending new Senior position any good at all, he enjoyed his work and anticipated eagerly what was to come, better not to mess it up now.

“You have been away a long time my friend,” Sebius continued his insufferable drone. “It appears that there may be a period of stability with these raised sea levels for quite a few thousand years yet, although the latest program we have been using predicts that there is a 90% probability that polar freezing will return yet again, possibly more severe than this last one, dropping sea levels quite dramatically.”

Sebius continued producing his insufferable facts and figures, enjoying being in charge once again, or so he thought, in his self satisfying and pompous manner.

“It is, however, likely to be part of a bigger cycle that will come round to what we have just been through, with a significant increase in average global temperature causing yet another great melt and more great flooding.”

“It seems that the orbit and spin of this planet, and the wobble created by that last great meteor bombardment, is such that a regular re-occurrence of this cycle may very well continue for many thousands of years to come,” his monotonous even tone barely changing at all.

“We’re okay up here, especially with the technology we still have left, but these poor people of the planet are going to have it hard, rebuilding and re-discovering if they are ever to get over that threshold as we ourselves did so long ago.”

Sebius, becoming ever more serious in tone was keen to pass on, in his authoritative manner, partly what he had recently learnt himself, but mostly what was of available from record to anyone who cared to read the records..

“If Toran is not aware of such matters then it may reflect badly on me, Sebius, his immediate superior,” he even thought to himself, his thoughts being as pompous as his voice.

“Ye Gods again, you're a prat. There's little new in this, who are you trying to impress. This is only making me more impatient and tired, I want out of here,” was all that ran through Toran's mind.

“Yes, and with our numbers depleting, not counting those caught up in the great tragedy, our jobs and very existence may finally be coming into question,” Sebius continued to the increasing impatience of Toran.

“It is my understanding, although nothing formal has been announced, that a joint meeting of the Senior levels and the technical Project Managers, myself ...” he emphasised the word, “... and my colleagues at the same grade of seniority, is going to be held in a few weeks time to discuss exactly that. Would you care to attend, you’re a legend now, and we could do with a few heroes right now.”

A series of foul words ran through Toran's mind.

“Does that mean I have been promoted?” Toran faked genuine interest in the response that he might receive, already knowing the answer.

Sebius did not realise that Toran was now making fun of him; he was incapable of mind reading.

Promotion had been a long time coming to Toran.

He considered himself now well and truly rewarded by what was about to come his way; much more than mere promotion. This was not the sort of information that Sebius should know anything about, not yet awhile.

“I have said quite enough,” Sebius said in his self ingratiating and conspiratorial tone, even including a wry smile as though privy to some inside information, which Torus knew he clearly was not.

“Remember what you have just said concerning next year’s project. Well, you will still be going into the field for a while but perhaps for not as long as this last one.” His smile expanded and Toran read and understood the message that Sebius had no idea if the information he had now provided contained any truth at all.

Toran going into the field yet again could only be Sebius' idea in furthering his own profile, but a complete falsehood. Sebius was clearly making this up with, possibly, an idea of influencing future events.

“Yes, sounds good, count me in,” he declared falsely with his last few ounces of enthusiasm, continuing Sebius' stupid game as he reached for the coffee for the last time. The taste was not becoming a luxury and he definitely needed something a little stronger.

Coming to his feet at the same time as his project manager, almost but not quite spilling the coffee that had not reached his lips, Toran offered his thanks with a promise to meet early the following week; a promise he knew he was not going to keep.

He left the meeting with almost the same sense of relief he felt when coming out of the field and headed for his apartment on tired legs.

The meeting of the guiding Seniors convened following two weeks of relaxing pleasure starting with the hot bath he had promised himself. Toran had been invited and was present as a non-speaking guest of honour.

A series of reports, headed by the detailed one that Toran had spent the previous week compiling, concerning the programme of interventions and the effects these were having on the development of the humans, were well discussed and studied.

Toran was appointed at the meeting and moved from the guest chair to a Senior plush chair on the opposite side of the table to the clear and genuine pleasure of all persons present, except one who held his stony face and silence throughout.

His appointment included selecting a field agent for the planned task, which was to employ a similar intervention philosophy to the one he had only just participated in and now returned home from.

This was to be designed, prepared and implemented with a new type of policy that Toran was to formulate, based on his many years of previous experience.

This time it was to be, as Sebius had mentioned but not as he thought he had planned, a project to the Middle East areas.

Toran was special because, amongst the genetic strands embodied within the Settlers, there was a dormant section that became fully active in only a few people, including him. This gene had been studied and the only view that anyone had ever come to, was that it was possibly one of the earliest strands in their evolution and must be associated with the original home of the Settlers, long before Mars.

This gene expressed itself most noticeably in those few Settlers, where it was active, in the shape of their heads. They were elongated to encompass a cranial cavity nearly twice that considered normal with a corresponding increase in brain material.

With some a corresponding increase in mental ability and intelligence levels resulted. With a very few individuals, something else completely different occurred, an ability of mental communication with the few others similarly gifted.

This often went with an extended ability that provided an awareness of others' thoughts, whether similarly gifted or not. Perhaps this was something that would have occurred naturally from their inherited DNA or perhaps, a developmental and natural mutation was starting.

The increased intelligence factor had been one of the reasons why Toran and a few others, had been selected to assist or lead projects to intervene in the local human populations’ recovery. They looked so different that they were instantly recognised as and taken to be, ‘Gods’ or ‘Supreme Beings’ worthy of reverence and respect, if not simple fear.

Toran and those similarly gifted were usually selected for field work. While Toran could not communicate mentally he could often sense what the local people, amongst who he had been sent, were thinking or about to undertake.

This only helped to set him, as those other field workers, apart as one of the special ‘Gods’ of the locals’ religious views and assisted greatly in achieving the Settler's aims. Toran had been particularly successful in this way and his personal experience was about to prove significant in his new role.

This ‘gift’ was being observed, through the multiplicity of recovery projects, as appearing in individual and scarce pockets of the human population. It was considered to stem from the same section of gene having become active as within some of the Settlers; nothing else could account for it.

In those few individuals of the various populations round the world where it also appeared, they were instantly considered to be connected to the ‘Gods’ and immediately became part of the ‘ruling classes’.

During the DNA hybridisation program, such a long time ago, this gene must have been transferred, possibly by mistake, along with all the others that had been considered necessary to bring the hominids, eventually, to develop into recognisable human beings.

This ‘mistake’ was now appearing regularly in the human physical and mental characteristics. It had been noted that amongst the human survivors, the ratio of increased skull types to others was much higher than before the catastrophes.

Those particular individuals among the new humans with this cranial expansion were significantly brighter than the rest of the populations amongst which they lived and contributed accordingly to their leadership and development; they became the natural ‘ruling’ classes.

One feature of this DNA anomaly (or throwback) was that some human individuals seemed to exhibit an odd ability, unknowingly, to communicate with each other; they seemed to understand each other’s intentions, before words were spoken.

An undesirable effect, however, was for some of the normal human types when bearing offspring without the physical features (the greater majority), there were attempts to alter their new born infant’s appearances by physical restraints.

This would allow them to make claims of an association with and claim entry for admission to, the ruling classes. Many children suffered greatly for a little social climbing by their parents.