Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory

By J. F. Weckesser

Edak grows up in Mu around 25,000 BCE, and like all Murians is highly developed psychically. He is schooled in Mu and later in Atlan. As a young adult he becomes aware of the possible destruction of his homeland, caused by Atlan’s misuse of chemical weapons to rid the Earth of the great beasts. With the aid of the monarchy he tries to prevent its demise. When this fails, he and his sweetheart work to evacuate the population from Mu into safe lands.

Ketzah is a boy of Atlan around 10,000 B.C.E. who is schooled by priests trained in the old, spiritual way in a time of great materialism and greed in the nation. He carries memories of Edak. As he grows, he realizes his civilization—like Edak’s—is in danger of being destroyed. Understanding this has happened before, he strives to prevent it. When it becomes clear he can’t stop it, he works with others trained in the ancient spiritual traditions to emigrate to other continents to secrete—and thus preserve—the nation’s history and technology as a warning to far-distant generations. He is deeply torn when he and the woman he loves must separate and go to different lands to carry out their work.

Aaron lives in our time, and remembers both Edak and Ketzah, and their countries’ fates. Realizing our high technology, greed and hunger for power could endanger our civilization, he devotes his life to preserving the technological and mystical records to work for the good of humanity.

Along the way, in an international mystical society in northern Canada, Rachel comes into the story—a street-wise and life-weary woman whom the now-adult Aaron recognizes as his sweetheart from these other lives. Rachel has no knowledge of any of this, and Aaron gently works to break through her protective shell and bring her back to where they were cut off in ancient Egypt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. F. Weckesser
• Release date: May 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458132987

J. F. Weckesser

Legends and myths of lost continents have always intrigued me, and as a longtime member of the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC, and also the Association for Research and Enlightenment, one day “Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory” began to unfold in my mind: What would it have been like to live in those days? Curiously enough, I saw the world as a male for the first two books of the trilogy, and as a woman in the third.I believe even our greatest heroes and masters were human, and probably struggled with their own hopes, fears, desires, misgivings, lapses of judgment, joys and sorrows—especially during the dark and scary times. It is the rising above these roadblocks that make the hero. A Zen proverb says, "The obstacle is the Path."My present home is in Wisconsin, but I spent many years in California. My heart belongs in both areas.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Everything that is has been already,

And everything that is to come has been already,

And God summons each event back

In its time.

—The Preacher, Ecclesiastes

What’s that pink clump by the pine tree? Aaron slowed to a fast walk and stepped off the path into the woods. 

Someone’s down there, a child...no wait; that's a woman.

He stopped and studied the small figure hunkered in the snow. Who are you?

She looked scared, and said something—it sounded like French. 

That’s not right. What did you say?

She hesitated, then spoke again. 

What is this? That’s Spanish, for Pete’s sake. I don’t understand you. Don’t you speak our language?

She shook her head in frustration. Rats. I don’t know what you’re saying.

You spoke English! 

Her lip curled. So do you.

But why are you speaking English? This doesn’t make sense. What’s she doing here? How’d she get in? ... 

Wait a minute, have I seen her before? …

My God, I think it’s her! But it can’t be…

Because, that’s my language. What did you expect?

What are you doing here? But he already knew why she was here. Yep, he knew her, all right—from another time, another place. 

She looked different now—lighter, and with blue eyes! His heart leapt. Such a long time... 

Now as she followed him through the forest to the Lodge, his thoughts drifted back, far back—back in time to ancient memories, when it first began...

* * * *

Chapter 2

25,000 BCE

Before the EarthChange

In the stillness of a tiny stone dwelling, a small boy lay tense on a grass mat and stared into the darkness. It would be a while before dawn and he couldn’t sleep; he lay in the dark silence, half-listening to the sound of his hushed breath whispering in his ears. 

The volcanoes were silent this night, so it would have to be now. He might not have another chance—or the courage—for a long while. 

For how would he know the answer if he didn’t venture forth? 

Edak would have to go outside into the black night and wait. But he had been told again and again by his parents never to do this. Words of warning flooded his memory. You must never enter the darkness of the outdoors alone, my son. The beasts are terrible and always hungry. Never, Edak. Never. 

Edak knew well of the animals—large, terrible creatures that might crush him, or carry him away and eat him. He had heard the tales of reptiles, bears and tigers. Do not go out into the darkness, they insisted. 

Slowly, quietly, so as not to wake his family, he arose. Silent blackness surrounded him. The air hung still and moist. Brushing waist-length silky hair out of his face, he searched his seven-year-old brain, trying hard to remember the position of everything in his meager hut. He mustn’t make a sound. 

Inching along the dirt floor slowly, cautiously, he crept toward the door. His hand reached out, gently feeling for anything he may have forgotten that would be in the way. There was the large clay amphora of water, now another small one of oil, and there in the center of the room the circle of stones marking the hearth. The fire had been out since the previous morning’s breakfast, yet the acrid smell of ashes lingered. 

Baby Klad should be to the right of him. Ah, there was his mat. Now he could feel the heat of the little head beneath his hand. Directly in front of him were his parents Ogra and Rehm. He could hear them breathing. Good. That meant he had everything correct in his mind. 

He eased around the mat toward the entrance. Almost there. His hand touched the doorway and felt at the bottom for air coming in from outside. No wind. As slowly as he could move, he unfastened the latch of thick leather and eased the wooden door open, hoping the leather hinges wouldn’t creak. Then he listened. Ogra and Rehm’s breathing was the same—deep and slow. 

He slipped out the door and stopped before he silently closed it all the way. Heart pounding with excitement and a tinge of fear, he fought to relax and regain calmness. Then, clearing his mind of all thoughts, he waited...and became aware of an area in the center of his forehead. It pulsated slightly now as he drew attention to it. He crouched motionless for a few moments. No sense of danger loomed there, so he stepped away from the house and sat down to wait. 

It was quiet. 

The air smelled fresh and sweet with a pungent odor of the eucalyptus and redwood trees. It was more noticeable now when he couldn’t see. Again, he stilled his mind to allow his special sense to warn of any danger. As before, the area centered above his eyes remained calm. 

At last it was safe enough to concentrate on this burning question: Do the birds wake and sing before or after sunrise? A simple thing to ask for most of humanity, yet a profound one for this young inquiring mind. 

Edak had always been curious, much more so than other children. Every item, every work of nature, every act of everyday life seemed to have an inner, hidden meaning to be found by studying, prying and questioning. For a long time he had known how to build a house, for at the age of three he had looked hard at his and the surrounding huts. He studied and studied and asked questions of his father until Rehm thought he would go mad. 

At four he learned all he could of fishing, and Rehm asked boat builders how they constructed the watercraft, so he could explain to his eager son. 

At five it was, Why do flowers and birds and snakes and trees and people and everything but rocks grow? Rehm and Ogra didn’t know. At six, Why can’t fish live out of water? Why can’t we breathe in water like the fish? Again, Ogra and Rehm couldn’t answer. 

More and more, they were not able to answer his questions, yet these puzzles kept nagging at him. Now at seven he had become increasingly more observant, determined to find answers for himself. He climbed and dug, smelled and tasted. His appetite for knowledge was ravenous—old questions found answers, then new questions arose. 

Now he sat, naked, his back resting up against the stone hut. The dew was wet on the ground. Moisture formed in his nose and he wiped away a drip with the back of his hand. His long hair warmed him slightly, yet he was comfortable, for in this tropical land the nights were a welcome respite from the day’s sweltering rays. 

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the black sky changed to a dark blue. Edak’s ears perked up slightly and he listened hard. The dark blue gradually turned to a lighter shade in the east. 

The young dreamer smiled. The first song of a bird, a haunting-sweet sound of a mourning dove, cooed the answer, and it echoed into the air. 

Edak remained quietly seated, entranced while he watched the beauty of the morning unfold before him. The sky became lighter and in the east the blue turned to pink and gold. The world changed from dark shadows into the familiar village he lived in. All about stood little round huts of stone with thatched roofs like his own. Down the narrow dirt road to the right, in the middle of town, towered the domed temple hall, its white marble shining pink in the new light. 

To the left, a blanket of blue-gray mist silently flowed on the floor of the redwood forest. The songs of birds saturated the air and, with a thrill of joy, he stood to watch the magnificence of the gold-white ball of sun rise slowly from what seemed the edge of the earth. 

His body jerked—the roar of a great beast thundered and echoed from the woods. 

Even the monsters sleep and awaken, he thought. I wish they were plant-eaters and would leave us alone.

Then he wondered: Are plants afraid? Do they feel pain when they’re eaten?

Ogra opened the door, her soft arms reaching out for her son, her eyes apprehensive. Edak, why are you out here? What’s wrong? 

He turned and enveloped himself in her embrace. Nothing’s wrong, Mother. I just wanted to see if the birds sing before dawn. And I found out that they do. They wake up just as the sky starts to fill with light. Did you ever wonder about that? 

Ogra smiled and shook her head as she caressed his cheek, her black, wavy hair still tousled from sleep. No, son, I never did. But it’s good that you think of things like that. You have answers before I even think of the questions. Now come in and rest before it’s time to start the day.

They slipped into the house and quietly closed the door. I was wondering about some more things, he whispered, but I’ll wait until we all get up to ask about them.

He crawled onto his mat in the back of the room and covered himself with a light cotton blanket, then peacefully drifted back to sleep, oblivious of Rehm and Ogra’s soft whispers. 

Soon thereafter, little Klad awoke and started to gurgle and squeal, waking the others. The day had begun. 

Edak sat up and fixed his long dark hair into a single braid down the back of his neck, as all the males of Mu did. Then he slipped a brown tunic over his head and tickled Klad on his tan plump tummy. As he played with the naked toddler, a familiar muffled sound carried from across the room. It was Rehm, clearing his throat. He yawned and stretched, his chest seeming to expand the entire width of the mat. 

Rehm was big-boned and muscular, and when he lifted the tunic over his head, his arms flexed and rippled. Years of working on the docks had kept his body in prime condition. 

Edak most resembled his mother—tall, graceful features accented by large round eyes. It was Klad who resembled Rehm. In fact, he seemed a tiny twin. Already his walk and structure resembled his father. 

Rehm sat up and adjusted the tunic on his large frame. He looked over at Edak. Son, he said, his voice soft and deep, go and gather wood for the morning fire.

Edak started toward the door, then stopped short and eyed Rehm’s large callused hand held in the air. Then hurry back, as I have something important to tell you.

Edak’s eyes widened. What, Father? Could you tell me now? 

A quick laugh escaped Ogra’s mouth while she adjusted her tunic and tied a thin sash around her waist. 

Yes, I could tell you now. But it’s more fun if I make you wait.

Edak shook his head and smiled, heading for the door. Very well, but I shall go like the wind.

Edak. Rehm’s voice was stern now. The boy paused for further instruction. Please, son. Be wary.

Yes, Father. Always. Edak knew what could happen to the person who wasn’t cautious. The giant creatures were always hungry. One must ever be alert for their presence. 

A memory emerged from another time. A toddler, Edak had gone with Ogra down to the edge of the forest to collect wood. It was a warm, beautiful day and the two felt secure so close to the woods because the men were there cutting trees. Talking and joking, the workers weren’t as wary as usual. Of course, torches were always near to keep the animals away, yet one man made his way too far from the smoldering rods. 

There was no warning—no growl, no snapping of twig underfoot. A great cat exploded from the jungle and pounced. One startled scream escaped before huge fangs silenced the man forever. Men thundered upon the beast in an instant with clubs and torches, beating it to death. But the grisly deed was done. 

Edak stood terrified, wailing. Ogra had tried to shield his eyes but it was too late. His ears throbbed from the awful roar and the man’s cry. And the blood—so much blood. Thuds of clubs still pounded in the pit of his stomach. The trauma burned itself in the tot’s mind forever.

It was with him now as he stopped at the doorway and, as usual, he stilled his mind. He closed his eyes and waited quietly for a feeling in the pulsating organ of his forehead. No peril made itself known, so he went on his way up the road to a clearing that was left when the men had chopped trees for boats. 

The air was fresh with morning dew and again the pungent smell of eucalyptus filled his nostrils. The sun shone warmly on his brown skin. Tiny pebbles underfoot tickled his bare feet. Gold and red butterflies fluttered about, lighting on pink and white blossoms of the oleanders. 

The sky was clear with a wisp of cloud here and there. Off in the distance beyond the village stood the volcanoes. Often there was smoke rising up from their cones, but today they rested. 

Edak gathered enough bark and sticks for the morning fire, enough for the meal, but not to heat. It was always warm enough in Mu to be comfortable. 

Usually he lingered in the early morning air, but today was different. Excited over his father’s message, he hurried to finish his chore, snagging his garment on a fallen branch in his rush. He had to put the wood down to free himself, then quickly gathered up the bundle and ran home. 

The door burst open. Here I am! he announced as he entered. Now what is it you would tell me... 

His voice trailed off and he grew shy, for on a mat next to Rehm sat a tall, thin man with graying hair and smile-wrinkles etched into a narrow leathery face. Edak stared wide-eyed.  

Edak, said Rehm, taking the wood from his son’s arms. This is Ropl Du Meh. He will be having breakfast with us. 

Edak shyly studied the visitor, then looked at the floor. It seemed like everyone was looking at the boy, as if he should act a certain way. Yet, what way should that be? He smiled at the man. This is the way Father would treat a new acquaintance, he reasoned. With kindness. 

The stranger smiled warmly at Edak, which caused his eyes to nearly close. I’m glad to meet you, Edak. Your parents have been telling me a lot about you. It seems you have quite a curiosity about life. I decided to come and see for myself. 

My parents? Telling this stranger about me? Why? 

He looked at Ogra for answers. She smiled back, but her expression revealed nothing. This must be the surprise Father spoke of. 

Ropl Du Meh continued. They tell me you were up this morning, before dawn, to study the birds’ sleep habits. Is that true? He again smiled gently, which calmed Edak and helped him to feel comfortable. 

Yes, in a way. I just wanted to know if the birds sing before or after the sun touches the sky. And I found that they are awake as soon as the sky begins to become light. Did you know that? He quickly averted his eyes to the floor and hoped he didn’t appear rude by asking a question of an adult. 

Ropl Du Meh’s smile broadened and again his eyes nearly disappeared. Yes, Edak. I know that. And do you know how I know? By the very same method you used. A long time ago when I was a lad, just like you. 

Edak liked this man. Such a nice person to have for a family friend. More questions emerged, but then Ogra came with goat milk, tea, flatbread, beans and honey for breakfast, and he pushed his thoughts aside. 

Talking ceased and they dipped bread into the communal clay bowl for the beans, which were herbed and sweetened. While they ate, Edak attempted to find out more about this man without being rude. Strangely, the visitor seemed to be talking almost solely with him. This was not a common thing to happen. Adults spoke with adults, children with children. 

Edak helped Klad sip from his cup, then set it down beyond the toddler’s reach. Do you work with my father at the boats? he asked as nonchalantly as he could. 

No, said Ropl Du Meh, chewing on a small bit of bread. In fact, I didn’t know your father until he came to me recently. You see, I am a tutor. I usually have three students, but now I have two. One has grown and no longer needs me. Your father has asked me if I would care to teach you. How do you feel about that? 

A tutor! This was something Edak had longed for. To think that his parents wanted him to be educated. This isn’t an opportunity most children get. He really liked Ropl Du Meh. Still, he had doubts. He took another bite, chewed and swallowed before he asked, Father, can you afford to have me educated? 

Both parents smiled and Ogra’s eyes rolled up toward the roof. She shook her head. 

Don’t you worry about what we can afford and what we can’t, said Rehm. We want very much for you to learn. No mind as sharp as yours should be wasted. Now, do you want to go with this man? 

Edak could barely believe this. At last, he thought, I can learn everything! He saw his beaming parents and was happier than he could ever remember being. 

A sudden ache stabbed his heart. I must leave them, he realized. But they need me and I need them. May I think on this while we eat? he asked. 

Ogra and Rehm sensed his anxiety and allowed him to finish the meal in silence.

When the last adult was done eating, everyone got up. Well, Edak, said Ropl Du Meh, I must be going now. I don’t like to stay away from my boys too long. I’ll be back for you in two days, if you have decided to go with me.

Edak hesitated. Mother, Father, I must stay here. For who would help with the goat—and the crops? Who would tend Klad? He wanted to run into Ogra’s soft arms, to be protected, nurtured again. 

Rehm and Ogra chuckled, yet Ogra looked a little sad. Edak, dear son, she said. You know, we got along without you before you were born and we will simply have to do without you again. We will miss you every moment but you belong with a tutor. There is too much you must learn, too little we can give you.

Besides, said Rehm with forced cheerfulness, you will be coming home to visit twice every moon. We’ll put you to work then.

Edak agreed to go.

* *

Two days passed too quickly and too slowly, for he agonized over leaving his family. Yet to go to school was more exciting than anything Edak could remember. 

Ogra noticed Edak’s pain. She gave him a tiny pouch with a small lock of her hair to bring with him. Remember me by it, she said. Know how much I think of you every moment. 

And now Ropl Du Meh was again at Edak’s small house. It was time to leave. Edak managed a smile and embraced each parent long and hard, remembering long walks and playful evenings with Rehm, lullabies and caresses from Ogra. A tight pain lingered in his throat and he worked hard to keep tears from flowing. He looked up at them and saw the same hurt. He allowed tears to fall and was able to free his throat to utter, You will be proud of me.

We are already proud of you, said Ogra, her eyes wet. Now go, before your first day of lessons is over.

He gave Klad a hug, swinging the squealing tot once around the room. Then he and Ropl Du Meh left the small hut. Edak clutched the small pouch in his fist and did not look back.

* * * *

Chapter 3

Edak’s World

If a visiting traveler were to ask, What is this place? the reply would be lengthy. At first, the inhabitant would stare questioningly, not comprehending how this stranger could not know where he is, for Murians, by way of their highly developed sixth sense, always knew which town, what river, which mountain they were beholding. This quizzical look would quickly pass, as kindness and politeness were finely honed attributes of this culture, and staring was rude. But finally, the inquirer would receive the information, which would be something like, This is the village at the mouth of the center-most river, of the six main rivers of Mu, which empties into the Murian Bay, which opens into the Great Murian Sea, east of Mu.

Edak’s town was the same as all others—it had no name, nor anything about it to merit special attention. 

Flowery names and wonderful descriptions didn’t exist in this land. They weren’t necessary, as a Murian’s special sense filled in the gaps that words couldn’t describe. But to outsiders, the nation of Mu seemed plain, ordinary—indeed, even comical.

Edak and Ropl Du Meh chatted as they walked down through town. They passed groups of men carrying wooden hoes who were heading for the fields. Women, their faces already veiled to protect them from the sun’s harsh rays, milked goats, and tiny children squealed and chased about them.

In the marketplace, merchants were arriving to open their stalls for morning business. Strong aromas permeated the air—fish, hot bread, stewing beans, spices, fruits, goat and llama dung. Edak was enthralled, for he hadn’t often visited the market.  

We come here after harvest to trade our surplus of beans, he said. Goats, too, when we get too many. Otherwise I stay home to tend Klad when Mother comes here.      

Then you are familiar with the marketplace, said Ropl Du Meh. He patted the boy’s shoulder. That’s good, for you’ll take your turn with the shopping. 

A stall caught the tall man’s eye and he stopped. He carefully chose a number of mangoes, melons, clusters of grapes, then waited patiently while a woman patted dough into flat circles and baked them on a simple stove of clay, just like Ogra would do in the early morning air. Edak inhaled the hearty odor of the bread and studied the purchases carefully. 

The food was put in two bundles and wrapped with large palm leaves. Ropl Du Meh gave one to Edak and hoisted the other onto his shoulder. Edak observed this and lifted his parcel onto his own shoulder. It was heavy, but he managed. 

They continued through town, passing veiled women with squalling infants or toddlers, or both. Edak had been on these narrow lanes before, but soon they walked past the temple. He stared at it. This is as far as he had ever gone in his life. 

As a student, said Ropl Du Meh, one of your tasks will be to clean the temple.

Edak’s eyes grew wide. But I do not know how!

As if his thoughts had voice, Ropl Du Meh said, Don’t worry. The other boys will be with you. They will show you how.    

The area was unfamiliar now and the terrain became hilly, with fewer dwellings. The road rose steeply and there, nestled into the side of the hill and bordered off by a small fence of rocks, stood a tiny hut.

This is your new home, said Ropl Du Meh. I think you will like it here.      

This dwelling looked the same as any other, yet something was missing. There was no garden, no goat for milk. Only a half-dozen grapevines, laden with fruit not quite ripe, climbed lazily over the stone wall. Where do you grow your food? he asked. 

We do not grow our food. We cannot have a full education and a full crop, too. There is not enough time in the day to tend to both. That is why we visit the marketplace for our provisions.      

The wooden door creaked open and a tiny face with large brown eyes peeked out. Wisps of black hair escaped from the leather thong at his nape and fell over his cheeks. Good morning, Tutor, he called in a high voice. A smile revealed a few teeth missing and a half-grown adult tooth on a skinny boy of about eight years, who now ran out of the hut. Is this the new student? 

Ropl Du Meh chuckled as they reached the doorway. Such a question. What if I were to tell you, ‘No, this is not the new student. This is a monkey I have brought you.’ Would you believe me?      

The boy smiled sheepishly. No, Tutor. Of course I should have thought before I spoke. You left early this morning to fetch the new boy, so of course, this is he! His smile widened and he looked at Edak, his eyes twinkling as he studied the new child. I am Jarmeel. I hope we will be friends. He extended his arms like an adult would in greeting. 

Edak smiled. He extended his arms and they clasped wrists. I am Edak, he said. I know we will be friends. I think we already are.      

Come, come, said Ropl Du Meh, herding them into the house. We do not want to waste a whole day just becoming acquainted.      

The heavy wooden door creaked and opened all the way. Inside, the room was dark contrasted with the bright midday sun. Edak blinked as his eyes accustomed to the inside light. In the corner sat an older boy making marks on a tablet of soft clay. He stood and greeted Ropl Du Meh pleasantly and eyed Edak curiously. 

Edak, said Ropl Du Meh. This is Trami. He has been with me for two years, since he was ten years of age. He has become like a son to me, as Jarmeel is becoming and you, no doubt, will also.      

Trami approached Edak, smiled and extended his arms. As Edak grasped his wrists he noticed the strangeness of the lad. Trami’s hair was straight, not wavy, and cut short, above his shoulders. It was nearly black, yet a hint of copper highlight shone in the sunlight from the window. He was too short for a boy of twelve. His eyes were small and somewhat oval-shaped. Even his skin tone was different, more bronze than tan. Edak would have been content to stare for a long time, but not wishing to make Trami uncomfortable, he asked no questions. If you have been a student here for two years, he said, you must be filled with knowledge. I hope you will have patience with me.      

Trami looked at Ropl Du Meh good-naturedly. Don’t worry, said the teacher, Tolerance is taught here. His smile faded. Now let’s get on with our lessons, he said seriously. As you can see, Trami has been writing on a clay tablet. Clay is free, parchment expensive. So for most lessons, this is what you will use. 

He gave Edak a smooth, wooden stylus and soft tablet. Before the day is through, you will already know how to make your name and some simple words. He looked over at Trami. Trami comes from Atlan and is finishing his education here. He will help teach you to speak Atlantean. It being the international language of trade, it is necessary for a scholar to know.      

Edak ran his hand over the cool slab of clay. He wanted to start right away but Ropl Du Meh was still explaining things. The well is down at the bottom of this hill. We passed it on the way here. You boys take turns getting water. We take turns with most of the chores here. Do not worry, we will teach you what you do not know. You’ll also learn how to count and to do it well. He placed his hands on Edak’s shoulders and looked into his eyes solemnly. You will learn many things that other people merely dream of.      

Edak stared wide-eyed at his teacher, trying to grasp everything he was told. At last Ropl Du Meh said, Are you ready to begin?   

Oh, yes, Edak said breathlessly. I am very ready.     

Then be seated and I will show you how to make your name.

* *

As days passed, Edak settled into his new life, soaking up lessons like a sponge. One answer only brought another question. Many queries the teacher answered outright. To others he simply said, Some questions you must answer yourself.        

Every morning before breakfast and every evening before bed, Ropl Du Meh led the boys in a period of quiet. After seating himself among them, he asked them to close their eyes and concentrate on a point in the center of their foreheads, the special place where everyone but Trami had a small swelling. During these times, Edak could feel this area tingle and pulsate, as he had felt when he made his mind quiet to sense for wild animals. This is the source of Mu’s greatness, Ropl Du Meh instructed. We hold unlimited power in our minds when we attune with the Great Mind.     

But, Edak wondered, What of Trami? He isn’t like us. His forehead is smooth and flat. Does he feel anything? 

One morning, alone with Ropl Du Meh, he asked of this. Trami, through training, is starting to develop his sensitivity there, said Ropl Du Meh. Not as strong as a Murian’s, he nevertheless benefits from our quiet times.      

Edak learned about numbers and of the great philosophers and sages before him. He learned of other countries, especially of Trami’s homeland Atlan, the richest nation in the world. He was taught to work hard and also to play, to read and write, to heal with plants and to identify the stars. Yet, his curiosity was not filled. 

One day late in the afternoon, after an intriguing lesson on nature’s cycles, Ropl Du Meh measured the sky and said, It is three hands before sundown. Let us prepare our meal.       

Edak was too absorbed in thought to be hungry. Too many questions tantalized him. Why does the sun wander, and where does it go at night?      

Ropl Du Meh stared thoughtfully, then said, I often tell you that you must answer some questions yourself. Yet I have never told you how. So now it is time to learn. 

He put his arm around Edak’s shoulder. Tonight at quiet time, instead of putting your thoughts to your forehead, I want you to think instead of the sun.      

Edak didn’t understand, but he held his tongue. 

Starting where you are on the floor, Ropl Du Meh continued, raise your thoughts up—up through the roof, up into the sky. Do not allow other thoughts to enter. Continue your journey up, until you finally reach the sun. See and feel what it is, what it is doing. It cannot hurt you, for only your thoughts will be there. See where it goes. Look around you and see what is there. I will await the answer to your question.      

Edak didn’t talk throughout the meal. Immersed in thought, he was oblivious to the chatting of the others and didn’t taste the food. He mechanically went about cleanup chores, unbothered by Jarmeel, who enjoyed teasing and horseplay, and Trami’s endless recitations of poetry and math formulae.

And now at last the tasks were finished and the sun began to set. Ropl Du Meh sat cross-legged on the floor and silently waited. One by one, the boys saw and followed until a small circle of four was formed, all resting their hands lightly on their knees, with eyes closed. Now Ropl Du Meh directed the boys to take slow, deep breaths. The room fell silent. 

Edak quieted his mind and tried to raise his thoughts. He didn’t know how. He struggled with fantasies for a few minutes, then settled on pretending he was floating.

Slowly, he felt himself rise up out of the top of his head. The sensation startled him and he was jarred back to his position on the floor. He opened his eyes and looked around. The others remained still and relaxed, their eyes closed. He shut his eyes again, knowing he must not be concerned when he leaves the floor. He tried to remain passive and thought of the sun, sky and clouds, and directed his thoughts upward.

Again he started to rise and this time he let himself go—up in the room, up through the roof, up into the sky, farther and farther without stopping, without looking down. Now the sun was before him and he stared directly at it, yet it didn’t hurt. He continued traveling upward. The sun became larger and pleasantly warm, but not hot. 

It must be because only my thoughts are here, like Tutor says, he reasoned. He was weightless and wonderfully free, like the clouds, like the wind. He continued to rise.

The sky began to fade away, far away, until nothing else existed but the sun. He had reached it—had become part of it. It was as large as the world—no, greater—so much greater! It rippled and splashed and rolled with pure white scintillating fire, blasting intense heat into the ethers.

How beautiful! A gigantic ball of pure fire! He remained with this magnificent energy where he seemed a part of it, vibrating with heat and energy.

But now curiosity seeped in. What else is here? He looked around. 

In the deep and endless sea of black a grand sprinkling of bright luminescence sparkled all about. Stars! So many stars! And, over there, a scintillating blue ball, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

That is my home! he realized, gaping. The blueness stood out in the black void like a jewel.

Something attracted him, tugged him toward this luminous blue orb. He was drawn to it, pulled away from the sun’s rays. Drifting away, slowly at first, he traveled faster and faster until he coursed through space toward his homeland. A patch of green appeared on the blue. The green became larger and closer until he could make out mountains, villages, rivers. He saw a white marble temple and recognized it as the one in his own village. He was drawn to a small hut and he knew it was his school. 

With unfathomable speed he flew through the roof and was suddenly back cross-legged on the floor. He opened his eyes with a start. 

His muscles were cramped and his hips and knees ached.

He looked up and blinked. The others had already gotten up and were preparing for bed. He rubbed his eyes. How long have I been here? he asked.

Ropl Du Meh looked up from the parchment he was writing on at the table. He rubbed his chin and looked at the boy. Quite a while. The other boys have finished with prayers already. He studied his new student. What did you find about the sun?      

The memory flooded back. Many things, Tutor. It is fire. All fire. It is a ball, bigger than our world. And this world is mostly blue. It is a ball, too. The stars all around are magnificent, and more than I could ever count. The sky is everywhere—above, below and all around me, and it’s the deepest black. It seems to go on and on everywhere. He wondered what was at the end. 

And did you answer your question, Little One? Where does the sun go at night? Why does it wander?       

Edak’s face flushed slightly. He could answer neither question. I forgot to find out, Tutor.      

Ropl Du Meh chuckled. Then perhaps you will have to go there again on another day and find out.      

* * * *

Chapter 4

Ketzah’s World

10,080 BCE

Before EarthChange II

The golden-pink sun climbed out of the depths of the vast untamed ocean. As it silently rose higher, its rays touched upon the islands of Atlan, creeping over hills and dispelling shadows. It caressed first the black and white marble domes and pillars of temples, universities and government buildings, then the large statues of gods and goddesses, statesmen and military leaders. Rising higher into the sky, the fiery orb now shone on the smaller limestone and marble houses with pools, garden statuary and courtyards. It illumined the white paved roads of the cities, their aqueducts, marketplaces and forums. 

Finally it came to the marble-sided residence of Nenus and Finah Kowato, a dwelling no different than most middle-class houses of the time. The rays of gold streamed through the windowpane, touching the white stucco ceiling, edging its way down past the ocher frieze of birds, illuminating the dancing particles of dust in the air. Down the wall it inched as the sun climbed higher in the heavens, at last shining on an eight-year-old boy’s sandy-red hair, causing it to beam like a golden aura and rousing him from his dream.

A slender, blond woman entered the room. Ketzah! Wake up! Are you going to sleep your life away? 

The boy opened one eye and watched Finah standing over him, a look of admonishment in her light blue eyes. Slowly stirring, he stared out the window at a distant marble column, and he remembered his dream. 

How different it was, he thought. Not even here but somewhere else, in another time.

He wiped his eyes to bring himself into the present. Good morning, Mother, he said finally, stretching. His curly hair fell over his ears and brow, a few light strands sticking straight up. 

Through groggy eyes, he watched her absentmindedly tuck a rebellious curl back into her headband. Well, good morning. I was wondering if you were ever going to get up today. You were in such a deep sleep. 

I was dreaming, Mother, he said, while he donned the ankle-length robe she handed him. It was so strange, like I belonged in the dream and not here. I wasn’t even me but someone else, a different boy. How can that be? 

Finah shook her head and smiled at such silliness. Well, I know dreams can be unusual sometimes but I don’t know why we have them. Why don’t you ask Master Atel? 

She pinched his cheek lovingly, then turned to leave, her long cambric robe flowing gracefully as she moved. Now, come. Eat your breakfast or you’ll be late. You know you are fortunate to study with the priests. Don’t let them think you’re not grateful. 

Ketzah sat in a sleepy daze, listening to the sound of her sandals touching on the shiny marble hallway floor. He climbed out of his high bed onto the stool, hopping the rest of the way to the floor. 

His thoughts drifted to his classes in the temple. Like other children, he had started in the city school at the age of seven. There he was taught the beginnings of reading, writing and numbers. At