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LANCE TAUBOLD
“In light of the fact that you have all grown complacent in our virtual paradise here, the challenge has been put forth for the four of you. You have all chosen your regions and new names. One of you will set out this day from our mist-enshrouded land to begin the contest. When you return, it will be decided which of your civilizations is the greatest. My judgement will be based upon the grandeur of your civilizations culture and how long they endure. A bonus may be received if your culture is still alive, as well as many other factors: their technology level, their interpretation and use of instruction, their depictions and personal beliefs of you and your ‘facade,’ etc. The pyramid is the iconic structure you must all adhere to. All other construction and buildings will help me determine the victor, but each of you must, in your own way, teach, and manipulate, or even compel your people to build. Is this all understood?” Cthorn their leader said from his throne-like chair.
The four nodded in eager anticipation, for it was true that over the years they had grown complacent—bored—and needed some stimulus for their advanced intelligence. There could be too much paradise. This contest would be the perfect remedy for their ennui.
They would venture anything to win and were not above trickery nor chicanery to achieve their goals. Of course, it was all in a good-natured way; there was no malice from any of them.
The first of them came forward. “Cthorn, I will be known as Lu-pan, god of masons and carpenters, and Xi’an, China, is my chosen region.”
“I will be the feathered serpent-god, Quetzalcoatl,” the next said. “I choose Mexico and the Mayan people.”
“Horus, god of the Egyptians. The body of a man and the head of a falcon. Most revered,” said the third.
The last of them said, “I will be Forti, of most ancient Antarctica.”
“Ah, an interesting choice,” Cthorn said. “There are no rules or time limits. I wish you all well with your choices.”
The game was on.
Xi’an, China, 550 B.C.
Lu-Pan spoke to the large group of men, “You are a great people and will accomplish great things. And to demonstrate your greatness, we will construct magnificent structures, towering to the gods in the skies.”
The men all murmured their assent as they looked at their god with awe. One of the men stepped forward and approached Lu-Pan. His name was Xen Wan, one of Lu-Pan’s most ardent followers. “Great Lu-Pan, we will do as you ask of us. Where are we to get the materials to build these structures and who will show us how to construct them?”
“Fear not,” Lu-Pan said. “You will be given the tools and the means for transporting the materials to the sites. I know that you have longed to create a lasting testament to the gods, and I will aid you in this task. These structures will, henceforth be known as pyramids.”
Shuffling forward, Xen Wan bowed his head, his long black queue waving with the nod. “Most revered Lu-Pan, Emperor Gaozong has requested a tomb to be built for him upon his death. Might this ‘pyramid’ also serve as his final resting place?”
This was the reason Lu-Pan had chosen Xen Wan as his engineer, for his insight and practical intelligence. “A most excellent suggestion, Xen Wan. Inform Emperor Gaozong of our proposal and begin construction immediately, for it will take many men, many years, I vow.”
Lu-Pan spread his arms to the multitude and said to them, “You men are the most trusted and therefore will be the leaders of your groups. Each of you will be tasked and have your workers to follow your orders.”
Xen Wan gave a satisfied smile, nodded quickly to Lu-Pan. “I will inform the emperor at once.” He shuffled off with a lively spring in his step, queue bobbing all the way.
Lu-Pan dismissed the others, informing them that they had one month to gather their workers. He sat back on his large, gold-and-marble throne and spoke loudly, “My brethren, you will see what a wondrous pyramid we will build!”
The men all nodded enthusiastically.
He smiled, already having decided on using a raised mound several miles from Xi’an. It would be perfect. The shape of the mound was already quite large and pyramidal in its formation. He would let nature aid him. Add some of his own technology, ideas, and “guidance,” and it would become a magnificent structure, a structure that with the intelligence, perseverance and hard work of these people would last for centuries—assuring him of the win over the others.
One month to the day, construction began. The army of men were assembled and anxious to begin. Their emperor and their god had tasked them with a divine labor.
The mound to be used as the base was 1500 feet long and 1000 feet high. Several groups would be employed to hollow out the mound for the tomb. Others would be tasked with working on each of the four sides—for Lu-Pan had determined that each side would be different a different hue. When Xen Wan questioned this, Lu-Pan responded with, “Would not your emperor want an extraordinary burial tomb to rival any culture’s?”
Xen Wan immediately regretted questioning his god’s decision, assuring Lu-Pan with his abject obsequiousness.
Construction progressed swiftly—the men worked from sunup till sundown, as if they had timeless divine guidance—which they did.
Xen Wan was amazed at their inexhaustible endurance and often commented to Lu-Pan. “The men work as if driven by fire; you are truly inspiring. Emperor Gaozong is most pleased. At his advanced age, he feared he would not see the completion of your magnificent creation.”
“I am also pleased,” Lu-Pan told him. “And I believe you have done your utmost in encouraging the men that they are creating something that will last millennia.”
“As you say, I truly do believe, for millennia.”
The months and years passed. The Liangshan Mountain, as it was called, became an awe-inspiring edifice of magnificence. Each of the pyramid’s sides faced its own direction. The northern side was black—the terracing in it giving it its colors from the shadowing. The eastern was blue-green from coniferous plantings. The southern was yellow from regional clay. And the western side was white from massive white-gray stone blocks.
For the transporting of the clay and blocks of stone, Lu-Pan introduced the workers to the ingenuity of an advanced means for facilitating the transport and a device capable of carrying vast amounts of weight over any terrain at a speed which was formerly unknown to the Chinese.
Ladders, scaffolding, pullets, and more helped ensure a swift and more efficient construction.
Lu-Pan smiled as he watched the men work, knowing that his advanced technology would help them construct the most spectacular pyramids, which would, in turn, advance their culture and guarantee their longevity.
The Chinese being a superstitious race, Emperor Gaozong asked Lu-Pan for protection for his great tomb. “Most venerable Lu-Pan, might we not have guards for our magnificent creation?”
Lu-Pan gave a knowing nod. “Emperor, I have anticipated your request and have already requisitioned a select group expressly for this. There will be twenty stone guards with large swords leading to your tomb. Behind them will be a gate made from clay and brick-faced. Behind the tomb will stand two enormous stone dragons providing protection.”
“That is to my satisfaction. Thank you, Lu-Pan for honoring me in this manner,” Gaozong said.
“Only the finest for the Emperor of Xi’an.”
***
THE OTHER THREE “GODS” in the competition had been closely observing Lu-Pan’s progress through their portal.
“Lu-Pan has done quite well so far,” Horus noted.
“Yes, his people have taken to the task with gusto and perseverance,” Forti added.
“It has been quite easy for him,” Quetzalcoatl observed. “Perhaps, too easy?”
The other two looked a question at him.
“I think a challenge is in order for him, no?”
The two nodded.
“I have an idea.” The serpent-god smiled.
***
EMPEROR GAOZONG SAW his pyramid mausoleum completed one short month before he was interred in it.
***
MANY YEARS PASSED AND many more pyramids were erected in Xi’an and surrounding areas. Xen Wan’s sons and his sons’ sons inherited the exalted position of Lu-Pan’s engineer.
Then, in 215 B.C., the thirteen-year-old emperor Qin Shi Huang came to the throne.
Being of an impressionable age, and having suddenly been thrust upon the throne as emperor of all Xi’an, he looked to his advisors—one in particular: Zhou Ping.
Zhou Ping knew that Qin was overwhelmed—but also power-hungry and distrustful and paranoid of those around him (maniacally so), as well as being afraid of neighboring countries invading.
Zhou Ping was in reality, Quetzalcoatl, who had been waiting patiently for his chance to challenge Lu-Pan. Qin’s questionable sanity, megalomania, and overwrought paranoia played perfectly into his plan.
He started by suggesting that a kingdom such as Qin ruled would inevitably be attacked by invaders, and Qin’s reign would be an obscure memory.
Lu-Pan could get nowhere with the boy, and Zhou Ping always made sure Lu-Pan was not around for his clandestine assignations with Qin.
Day by day, Zhou Ping planted his seeds of doubt, until one day the boy-emperor made a decision. “I have decided to make a life-size army to defend my realm and to ensure no harm will come to my grave after I am gone. This will be a creation of magnificence as to be so awe-inspiring that any possible invaders will think again before ever attacking Xi’an. We will start today.”
His gathered retinue of advisors, and the generals of his army listened intently to this decree from the boy-emperor.
Lu-Pan, who had also been listening intently, was baffled by the boy’s outrageous gall. All of his hard effort in creating the incredible tomb-pyramids would cease, Lu-Pan knew. He had spoken to Qin often about his abject paranoia but could make no headway.
All of Xi’an’s greatest craftsmen and artisans were pressed into service. The army of warriors, it was decided, would be made of terra cotta, and life-size, including spears and weapons for the infantry, bows for the archers, cavalry with horses and chariots. They would be as life-like as possible, all with fierce visages and ready for battle.
“I will need hundreds of warriors,” Qin declared. “You may use as many thousands of workers as you require to complete the task.”
Qin’s advisors stared, mouths agape.
“Is this understood?” Qin said, the fire in his eyes anything but boyish. “This is not a request, it is an order!”
All nodded their acquiescence.
Lu-Pan sighed, knowing that even with his assistance this onerous undertaking would take many years to complete. He was a god, after all, but the boy-emperor did not seem to care and asked for no guidance from him. Qin already thought of himself as a god.
Lu-Pan realized he had been defeated... or thwarted in his game, and he finally retired to their island paradise.
But Qin’s vision wasn’t totally daft. His terra cotta army was one of extreme and wondrous magnificence that would, indeed, last for centuries.
Qin was buried along with his army, to be “protected” for all time. Until, in the year 1981 when a farmer was digging in a field and he discovered the “hidden army” and excavation began by the Chinese government to unearth the amazing Terracotta Warriors.
***
UPON HIS RETURN TO the island, Lu-Pan said to the others, “I am aware that Qin was not the sole player in his decision to stop the creation of the pyramid tombs. But I accept the end of my turn graciously.”
“Ah, Lu-Pan,” Quetzalcoatl said, “The boy-emperor proved to be a difficult one to influence.” He smiled, giving a slight bow.
“Zhou Ping!” Lu-Pan shouted in recognition.
Quetzalcoatl maintained his smile.
“Well played!” Lu-Pan nodded. “Well played.”
Cthorn now stepped in and said to the four, “Very well. Lu-Pan you were quite successful. We will see how it plays out for you. Quetzalcoatl, will you be next?”
“I will,” he said, stepping forward.
“Good luck, my friend,” Lu-Pan said and shook his hand.
Horus and Forti clapped their hands on Quetzalcoatl’s shoulders. “Good luck.”
Yucatan, Mexico 300 B.C.
Quetzalcoatl was disgruntled and disappointed. He had been moving throughout Central America for decades now, helping the Mayan people construct pyramids, and while some of the towering structures were imposing, and even beautiful with their vibrant colorations, the stucco they used for the construction, if unattended, would deteriorate and turn into mud.
Then, one of his most intelligent and innovative architects, Akbal, conducted an experiment. Satisfied with its outcome, he went to the serpent god.
“My most revered God,” Akbal said to Quetzalcoatl, after a particularly violent hurricane had torn through the area and devastated several of the stucco pyramids. I have discovered that by using an inner layer of the mineral mica on the pyramids, it would act as an insulator for the stucco.
“I am listening, Akbal. Tell me how you know this?” Quetzalcoatl queried.
“I have built a small pyramid, a foot or so high, of the stucco we use and added an inner layer of the mica. I subjected it to tests by water and similar activity to violent storm conditions, and the pyramid passed every test.”
“That is excellent news, Akbal.” Quetzalcoatl noticed Akbal’s lack of real enthusiasm at his discovery. “What troubles you?”
“The mica I speak of in not found in abundance in this area. “My cousin, Ramaka, has recently returned from the south and discovered a large quantity of mica in Brazil that I believe will protect our pyramids from destruction by the elements. For the amount required we would have to travel there.”
“Then we must bring it from Brazil.”
“But how? We do not have the means for the transporting such a large quantity over so many miles? It would be most arduous.” Akbal’s eyes held a look of hopelessness.
“Am I not your god, Akbal? Have I not always provided for you and your people? Do you doubt that I can accomplish what you require?”
“No, my God,” Akbal rushed to say. “I do not doubt your capabilities.”
“If this is truly what you need to make our pyramids lasting structures of greatness, I will get this mica for you.”
Several months later, more mica than they could ever need was transported from Brazil to the Yucatán. Akbal was in awe of the method of the extraction and by the means with which it was transported—beyond anything he could ever have imagined.
“My God, we will erect the most spectacular pyramid yet. We will call it the Pyramid of the Sun. It will be erected over a cave chamber we have discovered, so that it will tower over the other pyramids,” Akbal said, with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
“I approve of the appellation,” Quetzalcoatl said. “When will you begin?”
“We have already begun.”
“Most excellent. I look forward to its completion.”
The Pyramid of the Sun and its corresponding Pyramid of the Moon did, indeed, tower over the six hundred pyramids in the Teotihuacan area. In addition, the Mayans, and their love for their god, built a stone-covered, temple-pyramid: The Temple of the Feathered Serpent.
Quetzalcoatl was pleased and flattered. He actually could not have been more pleased with his City of the Pyramids, or with the fine edifices at Tulum on the peninsula’s coast. Or, his personal favorite, the amazing calendar pyramid at Chichen Itza. Quetzalcoatl, or as the Mayans called him. Kukulcan, had overseen the building of these especial pyramids, and in particular had aided in the intricate construction and specificity of the calendar pyramid, with its preciseness of the brick constructs, coordinating it with the sun and the pyramid’s ability to depict the two annual equinoxes—when the serpent-shadow appeared on the side of the pyramid. A true monument of splendor, with fifty-four stairways, totaling 365 steps, 91 steps on each side, with one at the apex—the exact number of days in a year.
The calendar pyramid had been completed right before the summer equinox, as Kukulcan had planned.
He drew the workers together on the day before the equinox. “You have created the finest pyramid in the world, which will last for centuries, standing as the ultimate tribute to the Mayan people!”
The crowd cheered.
“And tomorrow, as your reward, I will show you something truly astounding. For the Mayan civilization is the greatest civilization in history!”
A louder cheer this time erupted from the horde.
The next afternoon, every man, woman, and child was assembled around the front of the enormous pyramid.
Kukulcan stood at the apex of the pyramid. “My people, my Mayans,” he began, his arms raised and outstretched to them. “For all of your devotion and labor, I, as your god, give you this!”
As he said these last words, the sun had reached its zenith over the pyramid and shone down directly over it.
The people stared, and before them the shadow-shape of a gargantuan serpent began to form the apex, where Kukulcan stood, down each step to the base.
There were gasps and cries. Women, and some of the men, wept outright, dropping to their knees in supplication at the miracle before them. All were amazed.
A slow rumble began. “Ku-kul-can. Ku-kul-can. Ku-kul-can!” The sound became deafening. Everyone now was on their knees, foreheads to the ground, chanting, “Ku-kul-can!”
Kukulcan gazed out at the throng, all chanting and praising his name.
He smiled and raised his arms to the skies.
His was the greatest civilization.
***
“I AM IMPRESSED,” FORTI said.
“The serpent on the pyramid was a stroke of genius,” Horus agreed. “His civilization may endure for centuries.”
“I wonder...” Lu-Pan said, getting a mischievous look in his eyes. “All that gold he uses... so flagrantly...”
“It’s very beautiful,” Forti commented. “That’s why we use it here as well. The excavated gold that we have acquired from around the world has added a grandeur unlike anywhere else.”
“Yes, it is beautiful,” Lu-Pan quickly asserted, looking around the chamber at all the gold adornments in the chamber alone. “So beautiful, in fact, that others may also desire it.”
“Lu-Pan, what are you plotting?” Horus asked. The quirk of a smile followed.
“Merely an observation that Quetzalcoatl, or Kukulcan, as he is now called, has had it somewhat easy in his efforts. Perhaps, some small challenge would not be out of line.”
“You have something in mind?” Forti asked.
“Indeed. The Spanish have been very interested in acquiring more gold. Forti, you would be perfect for this. I see you as an adventurer—a conqueror.”
“Hmm, perhaps... It could be fun,” Forti said.
“Let us discuss this...”
***
UPON THE COMPLETION of his most glorious calendar pyramid, Kukulcan visited each of his civilizations and bestowed upon them a gift to glorify their greatness and to show his appreciation for their extreme and disciplined efforts.
At each of his visits he repeated the same speech of praise. “Your god appreciates all that you have done. I give you this crystal skull as token of that appreciation and of your achievement. A symbol of your greatness, bestowed upon you by your god. May its power protect you all of your days!”
Little did Kukulcan know of the brevity of those days...
***
“I AM HERNAN CORTEZ,” the conquistador said to the beautiful Mayan woman, Malina, who lay next to him.
Malina repeated the statement to him in the Mayan tongue.
Cortez had met the woman shortly after landing (and claiming for Spain) the Yucatán Peninsula. In spite of the fact that his request to explore the interior of the peninsula had been rescinded right before he had left Spain, he had to decide to flout the king’s authority and explore it anyway. That was where Malina had come in. She was as smart as she was beautiful and had learned the Spanish language quickly. She would be his translator and companion. And if there would be no reasoning with these savages, he had his army for persuasion.
But this was all merely a ploy for the actual deception the other three “gods” had planned. Cortez was, in fact, Forti, and he and his Spanish army would attack and conquer the Mayan civilization. While Quetzalcoatl-Kukulcan was fighting with these barbarian invaders, the true insidious plan had already been set in motion.
Several of Cortez’s men had been infected with a heretofore unknown disease—unknown, that is, to the Mayans.
Smallpox.
Cortez, with his companion, Malina, and his army, trekked to Teotihuacan, the Mayan capital, to meet their ruler, Montezuma.
After several incursions, one resulting in the slaughter of almost two thousand unarmed Mayans, in the addition of the death of Montezuma, Cortez retreated and regrouped.
But the infectious disease had already been spread. The Mayan people had been so weakened by this that Quetzalcoatl knew he had lost.
***
“VERY DEVIOUS... AND clever. I was not aware that the battle would be fought on two fronts. Well done, my friends.” Quetzalcoatl clapped with approval at the others seated around him on the plush cushions in the ornate chamber. “And, Forti, your Hernan Cortez guise was quite convincing.”
“Thank you,” Forti said simply.
Horus spoke, “I believe it will be my turn next. I have been observing an ingenious fellow, Imhotep. He seems perfect for my tutelage. He is a healer, a scholar, and... an architect. The perfect protégé.”
Saqqara, Egypt 2680 B.C.
The City of the Dead.
Imhotep entered the sacred chamber, and prostrated himself before the throne. “My lord, Horus, what would you have of me?”
The Sky God, with the body of a man and the head of a falcon, spoke, “Imhotep, you are the greatest architect of the Egyptian people. You have been building your mustabas, your raised tomb-mounds, but now I challenge you to heighten your prowess. What if you build your mustabas in gradually descending sizes, one atop the other? Might this not be a better tribute to the gods—ascending to heaven?”
Imhotep stared quizzically at Horus. Slowly he said, thinking, “Yes... that would be a finer tribute. Do you have any suggestions for the construction of these?”
“You provide the men and I will show you how to raise the stones easily as the pyramid ascends,” Horus said.
Imhotep’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Yes, my lord, and the nearby quarry has the stone we will need. I will gather more men. It will reach the heights. It will be giant steps on the way to Ra!”
Horus nodded his assurance.
Imhotep was on a tirade now. “I will build this pyramid to honor our great Pharaoh, Djoser. He must have the largest and grandest tomb ever built, for he is the greatest Pharaoh Egypt has ever known!”
Horus was pleased.
Imhotep and his engineers oriented the plan for the pyramid to be designed at the cardinal points for laying out the base’s outline.
Horus suggested a layer of limestone over the bedrock.
A ramp was constructed from the base of the pyramid to the quarry. The stone blocks were dragged with sledges over the ramp. As each layer was finished, the ramp was built higher and wrapped around the pyramid. Then when the pyramid was completed, the ramp was disassembled from the top down as they smoothed the stones.
When the Step Pyramid, as it was called, was completed, it towered over the rest of the vast complex and was its centerpiece: six graduated mustabas atop one another.
Horus was quite taken with Imhotep’s initiative and genius, and in addition to his “suggestions” in the construction of the Step Pyramid, he also gave the architect some other “suggestions” in two other fields: healing and medicine. Horus told him of the healing properties of certain plants. Imhotep was once again an eager student, and eager to please Horus.
Imhotep wrote everything he learned about healing from the god into papyrus manuscripts.
Horus wanted to win the game. He wanted more than just his pyramids to survive; he wanted his civilization to survive.
That was the contest, after all.
Horus reasoned that by giving his people the means to heal and conquer certain diseases, they would have a better chance at survival. And by Imhotep recording everything, it gave the Egyptian people that much better of a chance.
There were no rules in the contest against it.
Horus also hoped that his competitors would not realize his plan and so had already chosen another site to construct additional pyramids north of Saqqara in the Giza region. There was much limestone in that area that could be quarried (with his help).
Imhotep had learned well. He would be remembered as a master architect, and his complex of tombs would remain for centuries. And perhaps, his healing and medicinal knowledge would remain as well. In fact, Imhotep’s most recent instruction had come from a small child, one of Djoser’s advisor’s sons, who had complained of a terrible pain in his head. Horus had shown Imhotep how to release the pressure on the brain by making a small hole in the skull—trepanation. Imhotep had followed the Horus’s guidance and the child had survived.
But now it was time.
“I have taught you much, and you have been an apt pupil.” Horus had said this to Imhotep upon the completion of the massive, ornate stone facade that was the entrance to the mausoleum complex, with its innovation of using columns as support.
“I am humbled,” Imhotep said.
“Your city of the dead will last long after the sands of time have passed through this land.”
“City of the Dead,” Imhotep repeated. “Yes, that is what it shall be named, my lord, Horus.”
“I will return from time to time to inspect your progress, but I shall be leaving and moving north for my next endeavor.”
Imhotep bowed his head. “You will sadly be missed. The people love and worship you... as do I.”
“Imhotep, you will be revered as a god in your own right. History will remember you. Now, I must go.”
Imhotep bowed low, and when he raised his head, Horus was gone.
***
“VERY CLEVER,” LU-PAN said to Forti and Quetzalcoatl as they observed Horus through the wall portal. The falcon-god was now in Giza, in northern Egypt. “You both realize that he is not building greater pyramids in Egypt, but he is doing something far more sinister. By giving the Egyptians the means and knowledge to overcome illnesses and disease, his race will stand a better chance of surviving.” Lu-pan said this last to Quetzalcoatl.
Quetzalcoatl looked chagrined, having had his Mayan culture nearly obliterated by disease. Then an idea began to form in his mind. Plagues. “My friends, I have an idea... a test, if you will...”
***
THERE WERE TEN PLAGUES in all.
Horus and his Egyptians managed to weather them, in spite of disastrous losses. His pyramids were finished. This time his Giza pyramids were quarried limestone, perfectly carved and covered with cladding for protection from the elements and to give the stone a fine finish.
But the current Pharaoh had become disappointed with the fine cracks that had appeared on the pyramids due to the slight movement of the bricks, saying that it made them look imperfect—and he decreed that there would be no more pyramids built.
So, by the mere whim of a fastidious Pharaoh, Horus’s pyramid-building days had come to an end.
In truth, Horus didn’t mind. He was satisfied with his work and the Egyptian people, and was certain that they would outlast his companions’ civilizations.
“Only Forti remains in the challenge,” he said and gave a final look out on the massive pyramids of Giza from his perch atop the mysterious Sphinx. “I will make certain his culture is a short-lived one.”
***
“SO, HAVE YOU GIVEN up?” Cthorn said when Horus entered the spacious courtyard.
“I felt that I have done all that I can: built impressive pyramids, suffered the plagues—no thanks to my companions—and given my people the means to live on. I am satisfied.”
The other three had entered in time to hear this last statement. Quetzalcoatl and Lu-Pan eyed him suspiciously.
Forti spoke, “Now I have but to best the three of you, having seen what you all have accomplished.”
“I hope you will be on guard and have learned from the others, Forti,” Cthorn said.
“I hope so as well.” Forti smiled slyly. “Wish me luck, my brother gods. Antarctica awaits!”
Antarctica 50,000 B.C.
The weather was perfect—a balmy eighty degrees. Palm trees swayed in the mild breeze.
Forti stood atop the giant mound of earth, knowing what lay beneath it.
Forti thought himself the cleverest of them all. Here he was at the bottom of the Earth with a very simple-minded civilization. When he had appeared to them, he’d become an instant god: Forti. And they were more than happy to do his bidding.
He would use the three covered mounds and build his pyramids on top of them. They were already pyramidal in shape, given what was contained beneath them. They would never be destroyed by the others. They would remain permanently throughout the centuries. No amount of storms or quakes would ever harm them.
For beneath the enormous hillocks were their spacecraft—preserved for all time. They were to remain buried, becoming part of the planet—put there to remain permanent.
Forti’s people had a difficult time saying his name, for they spoke mostly in grunts and monosyllabic sounds. So his name usually came out like “Forg,” which suited him fine.
They were a kind and generous people and worked together as a community. They had no apparent leader, and when Forti arrived, he was accepted at once as someone divine who demanded their respect and attention. While having a human appearance, he was more evolutionarily developed than they were. They were eager to please and never balked at any of his requests.
In order to capitalize on the pre-existing hills, Forti had his people use materials from the surrounding area to form the hills into actual pyramids. He guided them in making tools and in the means for transporting the materials.
The simple people were awed and amazed at what Forti instructed them to make, which, in turn, solidified his god-like status.
Forti was quite satisfied.
***
“CTHORN, THIS IS NOT right!” Quetzalcoatl shouted.
“He cheated!” Lu-Pan said.
“You were given the challenge. The means was up to you. There were no rules,” Cthorn chided.
“Our ships were left as our legacy—the absolute proof that we were here, and he... Ingenious really,” Horus said. “He used our own technology against us, as well as giving them the tools to create and invent.” He paused, looked at the others. “Let us be creative as well...”
Lu-Pan smiled. “You have something in mind, I believe.”
“I do,” Horus affirmed. “But it will be a slow process, letting Forti grow complacent, thinking he has won.”
“I am liking this,” Quetzalcoatl said, nodding.
“We will need some our home world’s technology.” Lu-Pan’s smile grew sly. “Let us see what Forti will do when his own island paradise has been moved several thousand miles to the south, and how his civilization will adapt.”
***
FORTI’S PYRAMIDS WERE enormous and tremendous—at least by prehistoric standards. His people were thriving and had progressed swiftly. All was right with his world.
Then it struck.
Not a typhoon. Not an earthquake.
But something far worse.
Something he did not foresee or plan for.
An ice age.
His island was moving. The glaciers moved slowly, but ineluctably.
Forti needed to save his people. He would need boats—many of them.
They would never even begin to understand what was coming, but he was their god, and they would listen to him and obey.
They made dugouts and oars from the palm trees. Forti instructed them on how to paddle and gave them many lessons, until he felt they were all ready. He didn’t want any casualties. He had grown quite fond of them all and would do whatever he could to save them.
The day came and they were ready—or as ready as they could be. It touched Forti that they were so calm and so willing to follow him. Complete trust.
They gathered foodstuffs and what few belongings and tools they had.
Forti had decided to split them into two groups, thereby giving their race more of an opportunity to survive.
They were given the choice which group they wanted to go with; both groups would have all the knowledge Forti had given them.
Forti chose Peru—or what would one day be called Peru—in western South America, and an island in the Pacific—what would one day be called Easter Island. He hoped he had chosen well. He would miss them. But he would be accompanying them to ensure their safety, as well as to be their navigator.
On an early morning, when all was set, they left Antarctica for the open sea. They made the long voyage first to Easter Island and dropped off those that wished to live there; it was a little less than half of them. Everyone seemed to be happy to be there, and Forti made sure they were settled before continuing on with the rest of them to Peru.
They landed at last in the southern part of Peru. It seemed to be a very habitable area, which would be equitable for farming and hunting. Forti had given them the means and tools and was hopeful they would do well.
One evening, after they had all been settled and had adjusted to their new home, Forti gathered them together to announce his departure.
“My good people, I will always be with you. I want you to live and prosper and have many, many children.”
Of course, he had to explain this all in their simple language, but they understood and were saddened by his departure.
“From this day on you will be called the Nazca.”
The people repeated the word, many nodding their assent.
“Now, I must go.”
An instant later he was back in the courtyard of their dwelling with the other “gods” of his group.
***
“YOU HAVE ALL DONE QUITE well,” Cthorn said. “The game is done and a winner must be declared. However, it appears that all of your civilizations have survived in one form or another, as have your numerous and varied pyramids. They have all eroded over time—the pyramids and the civilizations—so my decision is a difficult one. The people will merge—or destroy themselves, and the pyramids will eventually erode and become dust and rubble.”
The four contestants looked at one another.
“All save one.”
The four jerked their heads as one at Cthorn.
“The three pyramids of Antarctica. They will remain in their own construct, far outlasting the others, given what their base construction is. Therefore, Forti, you are the winner of this game!”
Forti smiled. The other three good-naturedly congratulated him.
Cthorn stood. “This game is done, as is this planet. Let the Nine decide if there is anything else to be done here. We will now seek out another world to inhabit and have our fun. We will head to our ship, and then, of course, destroy our small paradise here.
Lu-Pan interjected, “My civilization used a term I grew rather fond of for our ship: a chariot of fire.”
“An apt appellation,” Cthorn said. “Does anyone have a suggestion for how we will destroy our island?”
“Typhoon?”
“Earthquake?”
“Volcano?”
“Meteor?”
“All fine suggestions,” Cthorn said. “But why not a combination of them? We must preserve our secrecy here as we did in Antarctica. Let us go. Our chariot awaits.”
***
THE FIVE LOOKED OUT from their ship perched on one of their own island’s pyramids. Nearing it, they felt the rumblings from the ground and could see the swelling of the ocean.
Cthorn spoke, “This was one of our better planets, I think.”
The four mumbled agreement.
“And one of our finest games. Now we must say goodbye to our island paradise: Atlantis.
“And goodbye to Earth.”