Thomas Greanias - Raising Atlantis

“Get your claws off her, Yeats.”

“As soon as you’re good and frozen, son. Maybe when we get to wherever we’re going and thaw out, you’ll come to your senses.”

Conrad said, “You’re going to have to kill me before you freeze me, Dad.”

Conrad dove for the gun, and it exploded, the bullet plowing into his shoulder and spinning him to the floor. Dazed, he clutched his shoulder and saw blood pumping out between his fingers. He then looked up to see Yeats step forward to finish him off.

“I’ll say hello to Osiris for you.”

Yeats was about to knock him out with the butt of his gun when Conrad rolled back on his other shoulder and kicked Yeats in the chest with both feet.

The blow drove Yeats back into the pointed end of the Scepter of Osiris Serena was holding and she screamed. Yeats hit it with such force that he cried out in agony.

Dropping his gun, Yeats staggered for a few seconds before Conrad body slammed him into the cryogenic chamber. He shut the door as a blast of subzero mist blew out.

Suddenly all was quiet, save for the low hum of the ship’s power surging through the consoles, walls, and floors.

Conrad struggled to stand in the shaft of light when Serena ran over and embraced him. Then she must have felt the warmth of his shoulder.

“You’re a bloody mess,” she told him.

“You just figured that out?”

She ripped off a strip of cloth from his sleeve and wrapped it around his upper arm and tied it tight, aware of his stare. “And now you’ve got everything you ever wanted. Maybe we really should walk off into the sunset together.”

Conrad saw the bloody Scepter of Osiris on the floor. Picking up the scepter, Conrad realized she was right. All he had to do was let the Solar Bark take them to its preprogrammed destination and he’d finally discover the Secret of First Time.

He stared at her in disbelief. “Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying we don’t know if this ECD is a global extinction event,” she said. “Maybe humanity survives, or maybe we go the way of the dinosaur. But the only way to ensure the survival of our species is for you and me to proceed on course.”

Conrad looked into her pleading eyes. She didn’t want to go along for him, he realized, but rather for humanity. And she was willing to give up everything she held dear to do so.

“You’d have us condemn the world to hell?” he said.

“No, Conrad. We could create a new Eden on another world.”

As he considered this insane idea, the ship started to rumble. He put a finger to her cheek and wiped away a tear. “You know we have to go back.”

She knew, and she didn’t resist as they silently rode the platform down to the base of the Solar Bark.

When they finally surfaced several hundred yards from the silo, the ground rumbled more violently than ever. He had barely pulled Serena out of the tunnel when a geyser of fire shot into the air, hurling them across the ground.

When he looked up he saw a dozen other geysers erupt in a ring around the silo as the Solar Bark lifted out of its crater and climbed into the sky. Conrad watched the starship carrying his father, dead or alive, disappear into the heavens.

“I hope to God you know what you’re doing, Conrad.” Serena ripped a torn lace from her boot and tied the burnt ends of her hair back. “Because that was the last flight off this rock.”

Standing in P4’s star chamber,tears flowing down her cheeks, Serena watched the geodesic ceiling spin. The noise of the grinding, whirling dome was deafening, and she couldn’t hear what Conrad was saying. He was standing by the altar, motioning her to come over.

“Put the scepter in the stand,” he shouted.

She looked at the Scepter of Osiris in her hands and once again read the inscription to herself:Only he who stands before the Shining Ones in the time and place of the most worthy can remove the Scepter of Osiris without tearing Heaven and Earth apart. Was there ever such a “most worthy” moment in human history? Or was the Hebrew prophet Isaiah right when he said human acts of righteousness were like “filthy rags” before the holiness of God?

“Yeats was right, Conrad,” she said as she felt her heart sinking. “The Atlanteans were too advanced for our level of thinking. We can’t win.”

“I thought we agreed that the gods of Egypt were defeated once before,” Conrad said. He started talking faster, his voice rising. “Well, just when was that?”

Serena paused. “During the Exodus, when Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt.”

“Exactly,” Conrad said. “It was one of those cosmic events that changes cultural history, like a colliding meteorite changes natural history. If no Exodus, then no epiphany at Sinai. And if no Sinai, then no Moses, Jesus Christ, or Mohammed. Osiris and Isis would reign supreme, pyramids would dot Manhattan’s skyline, and we’d be drinking fermented barley water instead of cafe lattes.”

Serena felt her blood pumping. Conrad was onto something.

“The question is,” Conrad continued, eyes gleaming as if on the verge of a great discovery, “what was the straw that broke Pharaoh’s back and led him to release the Israelites?”

“Passover,” Serena said. “When the God of the Israelites struck down the firstborn of every Egyptian but ‘passed over’ the houses of those Israelite slaves who coated their doorposts with the blood of a lamb.”

“OK,” said Conrad. “Now if only there was a way to be more inclusive and extend the Passover to all races.”

But there was, she suddenly realized, and blurted out, “The Lamb of God!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re right!”

Conrad’s hands flew as he began to reset the stars on the dome of the chamber to re-create the skies over Jerusalem.

Suddenly the entire chamber seemed to turn upside down. But it was an optical illusion, she realized, as the heavens of the Northern Hemisphere suddenly flipped places with the Southern Hemisphere.

“OK, we’ve got a place on earth,” Conrad said. “We need a year.”

That was harder, Serena thought. “Tradition says Jesus died when he was about thirty-three, which would place the crucifixion between A.D. 30 and 33.”

“You’ve got to do better than that.” Conrad looked impatient. “Give me a year.”

Serena fought the panic inside. The Christian calendar was based on faulty calculations made by a sixth-century monk-Dionysius Exiguus. Latin for “Dennis the Short.” Appropriate, considering that Dionysius’s estimates for the date of Christ’s birth fell short by several years. Church scholars now placed the Nativity no later than the year King Herod died- 4 B.C.

“A.D.29,” she finally said. “TryA.D. 29.”

Conrad adjusted the scepter in its altar, and the dome overhead spun around. The rumble was deafening. “I need a date,” he shouted. “And I need it now.”

Serena nodded. The Catholic Church celebrated Easter at a different time each spring. But the Eastern Orthodox Church kept the historical date with astronomical precision. The Council of Nicaea in A.D. 325 decreed Easter must be celebrated on the Sunday after the first full moon of the vernal equinox, but always after the Jewish Passover, in order to maintain the biblical sequence of events of the Crucifixion and Resurrection.

She shouted, “Friday after the first full moon of the vernal equinox.”

“Friday?” There was doubt in his eyes. “Not Sunday?”

“Friday.” She was firm. “The resurrection was a demonstration of victory over death. But the most noble time had to be when Jesus was dying on the cross for the sins of humanity and forgave his enemies.”