Atlantian Chronicles: Final Prophecy

By Dr. William P. Messier

Atlantian Chronicles: Final Prophecy is an exciting science fiction story about a great civilization inhabiting Earth 65 million years ago. This spellbinding coming of age tale is about Arius of Atlantius, who chronicles the events of his disastrous last two weeks from the unsettled safety of his wrecked light-ship. Since birth Arius has been confused about his role as the future ruler of Atlantis. He soon discovers that an impossible task bestowed upon him and his friends by his father will test his resolve and trigger his ancestral DNA. Can Arius complete the four truths of knowledge? Can he stop the extinction of his world? Don’t miss the answers to this chronicle from master storyteller William P. Messier.

Independent Review:

Dr. Messier spends a good deal of time drawing connections between Arius, his friends and his natural environment: the whales, flowers, Pterosaurs or flying birds and stars are all his brothers or friends. At the beginning of the story he has the heart of a little boy, eats wafers for strength, longs to be independent, etc. Also, apparently contradictory elements are repeatedly shown as aspects of one unified whole: the jungle is both kind and cruel, feminine and masculine; the sentient guardian is beautiful but deadly; the meat-eating dinosaur is noble but cruel. The novella's premise of unity helps succor Arius in the midst of his great tragedy. For Arius, success and failure are two equal facets of the same existence. They are transitory forms which capriciously arrive and depart without affecting the underlying unity between himself, his friends and nature. At the end of the story Arius has the heart of a man - As long as he focuses on this unity and sees himself as part of his friends and nature rather than as an external antagonist competing with it, he cannot be defeated by whatever misfortunes befall him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr. William P. Messier
• Release date: Jun 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452462080

Dr. William P. Messier

email: [e-mail]. Messier has been researching future science and writing about Science Fiction since the late 1960’s.He has ten years’ experience as a freelance journalist and seventeen years’ as a college professor teaching technology. Over the years, he has lived in exotic countries like China and the Middle East. His research and life experiences have helped him forge rich characters that reflect the complex cultures and romantic customs in Final Prophecy.

Book preview

Atlantian Chronicles: FINAL PROPHECY

by

William P. Messier

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

William P. Messier on Smashwords

Atlantian Chronicles: FINAL PROPHECY

Copyright © 2010 by William P. Messier

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both William P. Messier and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogue herein are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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I dedicate this book to my wife Ping and daughter Karina of all that walk the earth, are most precious to me, and whose support and love I treasure. To my parents Helen and Robert Sr., who are now deceased, and to all my sisters and brother, and friends who remain my source of inspiration. Also, to anyone who finds themselves at a crossroads in life where their juncture seems  unreachable , you are not alone, and with dedication it will be accessible .

This book was written to unravel the riddles of the universe.

PROLOGUE-Prophecy Incarnate

Eons ago, before the first tree, even before the first ocean, comets pounded a newly formed planet with premeditated star matter embedded with distant and foreign DNA. On a deliberate journey of truth and connection, the rebirth that failed so many times before had failed once again. Although time and space was on their side, eons would have to pass before the circle of life could be completed. The journey of destiny, foretold from times gone bye evolved, until one day all of its secrets were freed. Eventually, the planet matured and grew up. Many civilizations evolved and settled, some disappeared as others survived on this blue planet until one day another civilization’s fate was close at hand.

--

My name is Arius, heir and future leader of this domed world. This is my two-week chronicle of events leading to the destruction of my beautiful planet. The hum from my light-ship is soothing but I can’t forget this horrific event as I reluctantly gaze down from the vantage of my doomed craft. The moment of my world’s impact is eternally burned into my memory, like recurring waves of dark dreams. I feel like I’m surfing the black crest once again. I can’t stop thinking about it. The memory of being directly above ground zero, within the city of dreams, the place I called home for all of my life, awaiting its obliteration. The horror of that memory. I can see it so clearly, how the sky split open, a thousand cubic kilometers of air was blazed aside. A tunnel of searing red flame, kilometers wide, arched toward the ground. Within a few seconds, my city, Atlantius was engulfed and all structures were flattened. Everything had been destroyed. My island continent, Atlantis shattered with the force of a thousand earthquakes and a shock wave of displaced air swept over the surface of my Atlantian landscape and then methodically the entire globe. From the pulverized flat terrain around the impact site I saw a ring of liquid mountains rise nineteen kilometers high, exposing a huge crater three hundred kilometers across exposing the bowels of the continent. A wall of molten rock ripples outward, erasing what was left of the landscape and changing the evolution and the history of my planet, forever.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I must chronicle this from the beginning. As I remember, strange events started happening two weeks ago. I didn’t know it at the time but I was being scrutinized, observed and watched from the highest echelons. I wish I never knew about the inheritance of the four truths! Unknown to me at the time, this inheritance began at birth and would be revealed when I become of age. I must survive four mortal dangers. What I slowly figured out was from the beginning of these heinous events that the truth would be either most profound or most dangerous. I was right on both accounts.

Weeks before my world was destroyed there were events unknown to me that were destined to come unchallenged. In my quest, all that has been and all that is yet to come will be revealed. The last two weeks of my destiny were collected and recorded into my ships memory matrix.

Memory matrix, correlate and combine in order all the investigated events of the four truths, leading to a week before the second cycle of K’altun. Story-stream them in 3 rd person, then merge them with this chronicle, Ari’s voice pulsated, accepting his destiny. These events will be chronicled for history in the hope that humanity as I once knew it, one day, can learn from what has come and do what is meant to be.

--

It happened with a flash. Sixty-five million years ago a gravitational wave opened time’s doorway. Silent ovoids sped through, crossing black space. The cosmic ships of pale blue were numbered in fours. Their uniform dorsal ridges swept backward, arched as ancient wings. Their alternating winged bands of black and gray, four hands high, four wide, oscillated. Pulsing crystal-driven energy wrapped the ships’ circumference with a resonant song from invention’s dawn.

Believing their cause just, those who flew these vibrant ships traveled from the mist of time. Numbered in fours, they now rested, preparing for the legacy ahead. Hidden by billowing banks of primordial clouds from the consciousness of the world below, they anchored their temporal shells and lay in wait.

Other messengers of destiny arrived, forty by count. Meeting in the black void above the blue world, they transformed. Their pulsing ridges hummed and glowed, until energy became heat and heat became a blistering power wave. Like dark matter crawling across empty space, the forty ships became silent. Uniting for a metaphysical harvest, they blended and solidified. Providence unfolded, all who had been numbered in fours merged sharing and delivering

--

The Final Revelation . . .

The combined life force beyond senses emerged from the ships. Descending through the clouds, it moved upon the face of the watery world, floating freely in ways flesh and blood could not. An ethereal mist formed the night dew, glowing green with intent and intelligence.

Its hum bespoke its inaudible purpose. Time is short. Our cause, a circle of life:  Preservation of the prophecy!

Sinister and silent, the Ancient Ones had returned to the island Atlantis.

--

Chapter One-DARK HUNGER

At the forested edge of Yutanius, the second largest city on the island of Atlantis, a thick mantle of dense clouds hung, electric and brewing. Beneath it, a spongy green mist settled, camouflaged by fragrant foliage. The lurking mist settled unseen near a gazebo in a verdant park.

The shimmering structure of gilded metals was resilient, bending beneath the raging fury of the mounting tempest.  Nature seared the sky with a dazzling variety of chain lightning, arc lightning and ball lightning. The gazebo repeatedly drew each bolt of blasting heat and safely absorbed the flashing energy into its silver and gold alloys.

As this scientific wonder transformed Nature’s fury, two young lovers danced, were sheltered and dry within the embracing gazebo. They breathed deep of the wet fragrance of heavy ferns encircling Artan Park. Their hearts charged by the high drama of rampant nature. Excited by the storm, the fatal enchantress laughed with the winds and whirled. Her head was high, golden robes thrown open, breasts exposed to the wild storm. Her young man gazed, growing ever more amorous. He seized her soft shoulders, pulling her close with an intimate caress not meant for prying eyes.

Body giving, head tilted, the girl’s arms shot around his neck, rising on her toes to meet his searching lips. Jagged lightning crashed and illuminated their secret moment with a brilliant burst, light forms flashing against ebony night. Love against all.

Suddenly, a feeling of being watched stirred the boy’s genetically engineered instincts. Something subtle moved in the night. Something apart from wind and rain, thunder and flash. Something so sinister, so alien, so cold, he froze in the heat of her lightning embrace.

He stood apart from the girl, glancing away, then back to her pleading eyes. He smiled, reassuring her that he was her Protector -- but against what phantasmal forces? What leering malignant minions made his neck-hair stiffen and bristle?

From nowhere and everywhere, a silent slithery green mist suddenly engulfed the two. The boy battled with fists, raging against the relentless assault of invisible raiders. 

Ingested by predatory hunger, the girl screamed in panic. Thunder drowned out her banshee wail. The mist vanished forever beneath a hideous roar of triumph, rolling over the rain-soaked valley.

The fog gorged. Glowing, turning a sharper green, it moved on, huddled and heavy.

--

The sun of Atlantis crept tentatively over the far eastern horizon. The storm and the green mist were gone. Animals crawled from their burrows. Yutans stirred and peeped out. Atlantis had survived. Everything was as before.

Yet in Artan’s Park, a robustly charged and glowing gazebo stood empty in the unusually chilly morning air. Across one gilded rail lay a fragile satin scarf, virgin white stained slimy green. Left behind, it was simultaneously an ending and a beginning, a mute reminder of lost love and a screaming warning of a coming prophecy to pass.

Chapter Two --THE ANCIENT ONES

The platinum ring of immortals crowned Arius’ tossed blond locks, emanating lost tradition. The young Lawgiver standing on the massive steps of Atlantius Council Hall was mortal, and at times proudly bore this eternal symbol, appareled in its power.  The ritual ring of enlightenment was graced with the Imperial Emblem, a trident with four orbiting stars.  The slender circle signified all the authority born by Arius’s ancestors back to the beginning of the beginning.

The six-story quartz and gypsum palace he faced embodied authority. It was topped with mountainous crystal collectors that channeled solar energy to heat and illuminate its cavernous interior. Studded with refractory lens windows and energy conduits trimmed with gold, the grandeur of Council Hall usually toyed with Arius’ self-confidence.  Today, however, he sensed something was catastrophically wrong, something more tangible than the iridescent fluctuations of the architecture. Six feet tall, robust, athletic, and as strong a warrior as a politician, Arius, at times was easily unsettled. Unknown to Arius, it was a fault well known around the kingdom.

The morning sun distorted, crowning gold and bruised purple. Breaking the curve of the horizon, it looked as if a giant-toothed Smilodon had ripped a bite from it.  The crystal collectors on the rounded spires of the Capitol were normally brilliant, casting true red, yellow, and blue outward in clear rainbow swirls. Today it threw out a light that was shadowy and uneven.

The dull refraction made Arius remember the storm two nights ago. His mind sought safety in formulating a scientific explanation for the unusual light. Perhaps quantum energy conductors have storage limits and are overloaded from the storm.

He pulled his sleeveless red vest, with its embroidered back and pocketed front, tighter on his rugged physique. He shuddered.  Although it was summer, it was an unseasonably cold fifty degrees, cool even for sea-touched Atlantius. It was far too chill for his usually comfortable jerkin and spun synthetic black pants.  The hair prickling on his chest and arms told him plainly that the Bio-climatic controls needed adjustment.  With unfathomable concern in his aquamarine eyes, Arius turned his handsome, square-jawed face to the business that had called him from his usual haunts in the Judicial sector.

As he entered the foyer of the Administrations Building, a labyrinth of golden corridors and silver stairs rose to greet him. Their glittering glow bewildered newcomers, but comforted Arius. Oddly, today their glow seemed to have a greenish tinge. That particular shade evoked a picture from his past.  A frozen still frame in Ari’s mind unraveled. In a simpler time, his friends Yu and Face had gone with him for a university research project to the North Continent. Pangaea biology still fascinated him. Lost in drifting memories Ari felt himself sail again in a three-seated silver anti-gravity craft over ancient forests, past protective energy fields, foliage flickering in winded waves beneath him. The image of wavering leaves became one of tossing seas that broke on the shore of a body of a baby whale. Sailing further inland, we were drawn by something sinister. Landing the craft, we walked, the surrounding fronds had dried blood. The sweet smell of ferns vanished, overwhelmed by the rotting stench of a too fertile low tide. There in the wilds of the forest, miles inland, we stumbled across the severed mutilated head of a baby whale.

Ari couldn’t shake off the gruesome memory of split ripe flesh rotting in the sun. As he turned his low-topped, heeled boots left and up the first level of quartz-inlaid stairs, he traced back the thought. The faint metallic scent of the building’s structure was salty like the smell from Atlantian space ships dark matter drives. The sent flowed through his mind, salty like the brine drying into a crystalline crust in the cavity where the whale’s brain once grew.

At the top, he emerged into a bright spacious hall, teeming with Scholars, Planners, Providers, Lawmakers, Protectors, Builders, and Amatures. Weighty doors opened and closed, their thuds muffled by the steady shuffle and drone of the busy corridor. In them Ari still heard the long ago rush of the sea and the mystifying cry of a cetacean calf.

The young Lawmaker shook off the haunting shadow and moved to the largest doors. Pushing through the stately bronze slabs, he unceremoniously entered the inner sanctum of the Supreme Magistrate of Atlantis.

An attractive middle-aged receptionist wore the common female Atlantian work colors, a rose-colored, high collared jacket over a white shirt and gray slacks. She came quickly from behind her static-charged metallurgic desk, smiling warmly. As she moved, the desk changed from faint red to soft yellow. When she returned, her body heat would again transform this Atlantian marvel so that it comforted her, matching her body heat and assuring a perfect and productive work environment.

He’s expecting me, Arius said flatly.

I know.  Please go right in. She waved him toward the inner brass doors, absently adjusting her scarf.

To Arius, the doors loomed large, a stinging barrier between worlds. The walls were marble, tungsten, and nickel, the windowsill’s gold leaf and electrum, the floor crafted of priceless mosaic tiles. Within this museum of power, four-dimensional tapestries and statues formed by interplanetary hands could be viewed on four sides at once. These stood alongside priceless brushless paintings by masters. These treasures surrounded a sagging desk that had seen a thousand years service in a thousand secret meetings.

Arius greeted the sage man standing before this symbolic, workmanlike artifact. This entire splendor belonged to Nor, the Supreme Magistrate of the Continent of Atlantis. 

Ari nodded only slightly in greeting. Good afternoon, Father.

Nor bore his three hundred years almost as well as the ancient tapestries near him. He was equally well crafted, with hawkish features set above a triangular white beard and long ear lobes. His sea-blue eyes retained the fire of youth. Tough old muscles still flowed easily beneath his intricately embroidered golden robes of office.

Although Arius had not seen his father for several weeks, he resisted the urge to embrace him or even shake hands. Nor was a fine man, one of the most brilliant administrators Atlantis had ever seen, but he was a reserved person who held warmth in low regard. That trait was questioned, if not discarded, by his son.

The coin of Nor’s fortune was respect, not adoration. His stature in Atlantis demanded nothing less. Despite his reserve, behind the wizened lines crisscrossing his ancient face, an unmistakable light of pride in his son glowed. Just now, it was shadowed by doubt and worry.

Nor argued silently. A Father should have faith in his child.

When he spoke aloud, his voice was deep and smooth, reflecting years of political polish. Have a seat Arius.

Arius did not speak. 

Nor’s internal soliloquy continued uninterrupted. Why do I hesitate? Do I doubt my son? Was there not a time when I too stood untried? So long ago, almost beyond remembrance.

With a calm belying its significance, Nor said, I have summoned Yutana. She should be here soon.

Arius sat silent, straight-backed in a hard sorapus chair, its legs carved to resemble amphibian legs. His posture attentive, he speculated silently. Yutana! Then a task brings me here. One important enough that Father questions my ability to handle it alone.

Despite his perceptive thoughts, Arius only said, I shall enjoy seeing my friend again.

Arius had never liked his father’s office. Though appreciative of the elaborate decorative art adorning the blue-gray metallic walls, the austerity of its furniture made him feel unwelcome.

Something forced him to look at a round cabinet. It was made of impregnable dendritic glass, six feet high. It stood alone against the right wall, opposite Arius. It housed the Trident Spear, a rhodium staff topped with orbiting stars, four in number. This symbol of Atlantian leadership was the same emblem he wore on the platinum ring atop his streaming blond locks. The Staff of Ages was a symbol of deeds, expertise and trust. Arius admired it and its magnitude. Many would covet the staff for their own power. Ari was not among them.

The receptionist poked her head in the door unexpectedly. Tea?

Nor looked up and absently nodded. The woman smiled again and disappeared.

Arius was curious about why he was summoned, but remained subdued. You know, Father, I’ve been coming to this office since I was a child and you’ve never introduced me to your aide. I don’t even know her name.

Nor looked momentarily perplexed, as startled by Arius’ tone of familiarity as his statement. Ariana. Her name is Ariana. I thought you knew.

We’ve never been formally introduced.

When she returned and served tea, Nor’s words were pointed. Thank you, Ariana. You know my son -- Arius?

Of course, she responded pleasantly. Always a pleasure to have you visit us.

Arius noticed the happiness that Nor’s simple kindness elicited. Was Ariana easily pleased? Or was this pleasantry so great a departure from Nor’s normal surliness?

Ariana smiled again, carefully setting the electrum silver teapot and service on the edge of Nor’s massive desk. She unobtrusively withdrew.

Afternoon tea was a social and scientific anomaly in Atlantis. Atlantians could get three days’ nourishment from a single genetically produced wafer. This economical product saved the energies wasted buying, preparing, eliminating, and serving food.  It also eliminated a vital part of any culture -- gossip. A ceremonial afternoon tea had evolved to provide the socializing that technology displaced.

Atlantian teas required a physiological adjustment that was also something of a phenomenon. Modern Atlantians needed no internal organs to digest food or dispel wastes. Ten thousand years of DNA engineering disposed of those needs. To permit the social function of tea, Atlantians ingested duodenal and pancreatic enzymes as palatable wafers which permitted the absorption of liquids into their systems and elimination of them through the skin. This process also aided regulation of the Atlantian’s circulatory system. It never flushed!

Arius sipped his tea and observed Nor. The white-haired man was deep in thought,