The Secret Knowledge

By Susan Schroeder

It is disputed how things began. There was a beginning, it was filled with strife and struggle, and whether we agree on the process or order of how life progressed, we must agree to the fact that knowledge was the key to the progression of life. Homo sapiens, Knowing man, went from naked to clothed, shivering to warm, cave dweller to shelter builder, scavenger to hunter using tools and making fires. The story is revealed in millions of years of fossil records, this is indisputable. Advancements in civilization are the proof, but why were some civilizations on this planet able to become so much more advanced while other civilizations fell so far behind?
In the Beginning, the garden was lush, filled with exotic plants and animals. The tallest trees gathered as much light as possible, spreading leaves in all directions. The second level of trees worked even harder to gather light in the shade of the bigger trees. On the ground, only those plants that could grow in dense shade could survive. The trees were doused daily with a substantial amount of rainfall, allowing them to grow to immeasurable sizes. The fruit from these trees hung generously from every limb, and the animals that were nourished by the fruit were abundant. The chosen few who lived in the garden lived simply, without worry or care. They needed no protection, for they had no enemies. They needed no clothing, for they did not experience cold nor heat. They feasted daily, drank from the clear water in the numerous streams, and delighted in the paradise. It was perfect, and all were content.
No one really knows who picked the first piece of fruit from the trees in the dark grove, but this fruit was taken, and eaten. With each bite of this perfect fruit, reality became clearer. There was a revelation, and it was known that things were not as they seemed. Suddenly there was cold, fear, and loneliness. Looking around, they felt threatened by what they could now see, for now they could see everything in the finest detail, and they understood. Hence, they had gained the knowledge, for they all had eaten the forbidden fruit.
The story tells of the Creator casting them out of the perfect garden, and leaving them on their own, but not mentioned was that the fruit never left the hand of the one who had picked it. It was carried from the garden, and with the knowledge now obtained, it was grafted into a perfect tree. Over time, more perfect fruit was propagated, and so the knowledge prevailed.
It is the remnants of this tree, the tree born of the fruit carried from the garden where the knowledge first began, that bestows the knowledge. Under the guidance of the Creator this fruit has long been protected by a succession of Guardians. This is the story of the Guardians who protect the fruit and hold the knowledge now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Schroeder
• Release date: Dec 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370458134

Susan Schroeder

Aspiring Author and Science Enthusiast.

Book preview

Preface

It is disputed how things began. There was a beginning, it was filled with strife and struggle, and whether we agree on the process or order of how life progressed, we must agree to the fact that knowledge was the key to the progression of life. Homo sapiens, Knowing man, went from naked to clothed, shivering to warm, cave dweller to shelter builder, scavenger to hunter using tools and making fires. The story is revealed in millions of years of fossil records, this is indisputable. Advancements in civilization are the proof, but why were some civilizations on this planet able to become so much more advanced while other civilizations fell so far behind? Was is it the intervention of some alien race that helped push developmental man along? Was is it simply a push from boredom to curiosity? Was it just pure dumb luck? There is a group who would suggest that it was the Hand of the Maker, the Supreme Being of all, which helped to guide the source of the knowledge, and protect it from the unworthy. This is the story of the path of the knowledge and how it traveled around the world.

IN THE BEGINNING, the garden was lush, filled with exotic plants and animals. The tallest trees gathered as much light as possible, spreading leaves in all directions. The second level of trees worked even harder to gather light in the shade of the bigger trees. On the ground, only those plants that could grow in dense shade could survive. The trees were doused daily with a substantial amount of rainfall, allowing them to grow to immeasurable sizes. The fruit from these trees hung generously from every limb, and the animals that were nourished by the fruit were abundant. The chosen few who lived in the garden lived simply, without worry or care. They needed no protection, for they had no enemies. They needed no clothing, for they did not experience cold nor heat. They feasted daily, drank from the clear water in the numerous streams, and delighted in the paradise. It was perfect, and all were content.

In a dense, dark, secluded area of the forest, there existed a grove of trees with large ripe fruit. It was agreed that no one travel there, and that the grove be left alone, particularly the tree with the most perfect fruit. It was forbidden, and should be left untouched. For many years this agreement held, but curiosity eventually overtook some, and change became evident. No one really knows who picked the first piece of fruit from the trees in the dark grove, but this fruit was taken, and eaten. With increasing bravado, more fruit was taken from all the trees in the grove, and eaten, but it was that one piece that was taken from that one tree and eaten that ended it all, so the story goes.

With each bite of this perfect fruit, reality became clearer. There was a revelation, and it was known that things were not as they seemed. Suddenly there was cold, fear, and loneliness. Looking around, they felt threatened by what they could now see, for now they could see everything in the finest detail, and they understood. Hence, they had gained the knowledge, for they all had eaten the forbidden fruit.

The story tells of the Creator casting them out of the perfect garden, and leaving them on their own, but not mentioned was that the fruit never left the hand of the one who had picked it. It was carried from the garden, and with the knowledge now obtained, it was grafted into a perfect tree. Over time, more perfect fruit was propagated, and so the knowledge prevailed.

This tree was hidden, but the Creator sees all, and watched vigilantly to observe what was to become of this fruit. This first tree was planted in the Fertile Crescent, just between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. It was bountiful, being cared for from one generation to the next, yielding its harvest, for thousands of years. As the population grew, the tree was protected and the secrecy of its potential was guarded as well. The knowledge it provided was used to make tools, dig wells, improve agriculture, and civilization thrived. This civilization was known as the Babylonians, and their society was rich in knowledge as they flourished. These were the people who understood the mechanics of their universe; the movement of the Earth around the sun, and that night and day were the result of a spinning Earth under the sun’s illumination. They took advantage of their understanding of the importance of water and air, for they built grand gardens and used their knowledge for the construction of great cities with wells and plumbing. They worked until the product of their efforts shown like a diamond, adamantine, to be the shiny object of envy of other civilizations. But the knowledge was soon abused, and the story tells of a tower, built to reach the heavens, to rival the Maker. The society became filled with hubris, an affront to the Hand that would soon destroy their city and halt their existence. It is told that they were destroyed, burned to the ground, but before the devastation, the Guardians predicted the end of the great city, and move the fruit to start anew.

The knowledge would travel to the east, and rest in the Tibetan Plateau to give rise to a population rich in agriculture and tradition. The knowledge was given to the Chinese, for it is known that this civilization was established and thrived as the Xia Dynasty. China grew into a great and powerful empire. For many, many years, the knowledge was at home there, and even with the threat of the Western Zhou, it was hidden safely. The Spring and Autumn Periods produced hundreds of schools of thought and the dawning of many innovative ideas, but with the onset of the Warring Period, and the threat of the knowledge being used for destruction, the tree was burned to the ground and the Guardians of Knowledge moved it again.

Civilization then endured a dry period in the burgeoning of new intellect, but one would suggest it was due to the vast amount of land through which the fruit was carried. The abundance and wealth of a newly informed society would make it perfectly clear where the fruit was to flourish. It was the Greeks who gave it a new spotlight. Plato, Pythagoras, Eratosthenes, Aristotle, Democritus, Aristarchus, and Socrates would make huge breakthroughs in math and science. They recorded in their works the knowledge that the Earth was round, not flat. The moon moves around the Earth in regular cycles, giving the regularity of the phases of the moon. Geometry could be used to calculate the dimensions of the Earth’s diameter and volume. Democritus even went so far as to postulate the existence of the atom. The Greeks were free thinkers and considered themselves enlightened. Their contributions were countless, and may have prevailed but they were overtaken by the Romans, who were also seeking the knowledge. Julius Caesar was believed to be the last to partake of the fruit, before it was secretly destroyed and moved again.

The protection of the knowledge was a dangerous vocation, and many Guardians died as they helped protect the seeds of the fruit. It was believed that these seeds were moved secretly to the north into Israel, remaining in Nazareth until the birth of Jesus. It was also believed that Jesus was a Guardian of the fruit, and ate of it often, and his intellect was profound. Upon his death, the fruit was moved, north this time, into Europe where it grew and flourished in the southern tip of Italy.

The intellect of Leonardo de Vinci and Galileo Galilei would soon give evidence where the tree had been planted. It remained until the threat of a dictator, and was move north into Germany. There the knowledge led to the awakening of great musical talent in the composers, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Ludwig Van Beethoven and much later to the incomparable intellect of Albert Einstein. It was believed that when the fruit was moved, the tree was not completely destroyed, and fell into the hands of evil, those who would use the knowledge for the devastation and destruction of Europe.

Social unrest in Europe pushed the fruit westward, to the United Kingdom, where Newton and Darwin would shine in its light. Strife in the U.K. pushed it to the west again, and it landed in the New World where it would take years to become established. It was in the midst of turmoil and tolerance that the knowledge was unleashed, and a great new nation was established. Years in the making, a document so profound it would be used as a model for Popular Sovereignty for many free nations, it was the United States Constitution. The framers, Jefferson, Franklin, Washington, were among many believed to have IQs above 150. The knowledge was unleashed in this free nation, and innovative ideas flourished, for it was in the United States that the Wright Brothers, Edison, Tesla, Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawking and countless other inventors and theorists thrived.

It is the remnants of this tree, the tree born of the fruit carried from the garden where the knowledge first began, that bestows the knowledge. Under the guidance of the Creator this fruit has long been protected by a succession of Guardians. This is the story of the Guardians who protect the fruit and hold the knowledge now.

Part One

The Orchard

Chapter One

The first hint of light was making the sky appear deep purple with bands of pink fingering through the horizon. The dew had begun to evaporate just enough to make patches of fog appear on the cool surface. Under the trees, the collected moisture fell in large droplets, echoing under the dense foliage of the branches hanging low, thick with fruit. Chris walked along the rows, collecting one piece of fruit from each tree and putting it in a burlap sack. He had already filled one sack, and he was on the last row of trees. A mixture of fruit was in the sacks, apples, pears, plums and peaches. Stopping near one tree, particularly lush, he took two pieces. He put one in the bag, and stuffed the other in his mouth, taking a slow bite. The juice rolled down his chin as he chewed. He took another bite, tossing the remains to the ground. When he had gathered one piece from every tree, he walked over to the edge of the orchard and placed the sack next to the other he had filled earlier.

Chris picked up a large bag containing bottles of lighter fluid. He opened the first bottle, and started to spray the nearest tree. Squeezing the base of the bottle allowed the contents to shoot up into the foliage. He walked to the next tree doing the same, continuing on until the bottle was empty. Putting it back in the bag, he took out another. He continued all the way down the row of trees. When it was apparent that he would not have enough to finish each row, he left the bag of empty bottles in the row and went back to get another bag. His arms and hands were aching from squeezing the bottles of fluid onto the trees. Chris, needing a break, walked to the edge of the grove and took out a cigarette. Placing it in his mouth, he lit the end and drew hard, making the butt warm to the touch. When he took it from his mouth, the ember was red hot. He slowly blew the smoke out through his nostrils. He took another hard hit off the cigarette, the butt now hot in his fingers, feeling the burn down in his lungs, and looked around at the still peaceful grove. He smoked until the ember was nearly out, then crushed it between the fingers on his left hand, and put the butt in his pocket. Chris picked up the bag and walked to the far side of the grove, working the edges as he went back to soaking the trees with lighter fluid. When all of the bottles were empty he placed the bags with the empty containers in the center of the grove and sprayed the empty containers with the last of the fluid. He threw the last bottle on the bag. His shirt, now soaked with sweat and lighter fluid, hung on his body like a wet towel on a stack of hangers. He took it off and threw it over the bag. He was wiry and strong, but not big in stature. His thin, brown hair hung in his eyes.

Looking around at the orchard he noticed the sky had turned a periwinkle blue. Sunrise was imminent. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the trees. In the silence he could hear the steady moisture dripping from the trees. Birds were busy moving from tree to tree. He opened his eyes and saw yellow now streaking across the sky. Chris was feeling rather sure of himself as he stood in the peaceful surroundings. He had thought this whole thing through and was sure that he was covering his tracks carefully. He had bought the lighter fluid two bottles at a time at different stores, using cash, during the past week. Even if a bottle or two was left as evidence, it would be impossible to trace it back to him. He took a book of matches out of his pocket and something else fell to the ground, escaping his notice. It was heavy and fell between the blades of grass. Chris awkwardly pulled a match from the pack. He was missing his index finger and the pinky finger down to the first knuckle on his right hand. Holding the match with his two middle fingers he struck it on the rough surface. Carefully, he lit the entire book of matches on fire. He tossed it at the bag of empty bottles in the middle of the orchard, and the pile went up in flames. Taking out a lighter, he walked out of the grove, lighting the trees as he went.

Chris picked up the two sacks of fruit and walked to the edge of the nearby forest. As he stepped inside the protection of the forest, he turned to view his handiwork. Slowly, trees began to ignite, and the smoke began to billow. It would take a little while for the whole grove to catch fire, but he had planned that out carefully. A large tree had been cut and now blocked the main road leading to the orchard. It would have to be removed before any fire trucks could make it to the site. The hoses around the main house and barns had been slashed vertically, so any hope of putting out the fire from the main house would be impossible. He was certain that in a few hours the whole grove would be destroyed. Although there was dew this morning in the grove, the area had suffered from two weeks of harsh sun and high winds. It would take days of rain to replenish the proper amount of moisture to the trees. Chris stood there and watched as the trees slowly went up in flames. A smile filled his pockmarked face. His dark brown eyes, like mica, reflected the glow of the fire as it grew. The warm air rose into the sky and cooler air rushed in to take its place, causing the wind to whip at the trees.

Any second now, the alarm would be raised. He turned and walked as quickly as he could through the dense woods. He could see the trail that he had made when he came to the grove with the two large bags of lighter fluid. The authorities would be able to track his movements, so he had to move quickly back to his car which was hidden out of view in the tall grass by the side of the road. The matted grasses would give him away if he didn’t return quickly.

It took him nearly half an hour to return to his vehicle. He put the bags of fruit in the trunk and slid behind the wheel. Chris drove a newer model dark blue Dodge Caliber. It had no bumper stickers or dents. He was sure it wouldn’t stand out in anyone’s memory. He had mapped out his escape route, hoping to be out of sight of any emergency vehicles. When he maneuvered his car to the main highway, he drove the speed limit until he reached the nearest community. Turning into the first neighborhood, he drove slowly, parking his car in front of a house for sale. It looked empty from the outside. He scrunched down in the seat and closed his eyes. He had been up since three and now he was going to relax and hopefully have a nap. Clearing his mind of fruit and fire, he let his thoughts go blank. His body slumped as he spent nearly two hours napping.

Chris woke to the sound of car doors slamming. He blinked himself awake and started the car. He drove out of the neighborhood into the small community, trying to avoid any cameras. When he pulled onto the nearest freeway, he put the pedal down. He was out of the small area and close to Maryville by noon. It was time to send the next message.

Chris put a cigarette in his mouth, lit it and drove through the first fast food restaurant that he spotted. He ordered the breakfast burrito, it was the easiest to eat in a car, and coffee, black. Parking at the nearest grocery store he ate his breakfast, taking large bites and chewing only a few times before he swallowed. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t particularly tasty either. He smiled as he imagined the breakfast he would have after he sold the fruit. He planned to make a lot of money from this little transaction. Chris had incurred some big debt in the last few years, and he wanted to pay all of it back. He was hoping to make enough so he could set things straight, give back to the people who had helped him when his boy was hurt. He wanted to let them know how much he appreciated what they had done for him and his son. Chris didn’t want much for himself, he didn’t need much. He sat there thinking of better days, days with warmth and laughter, as he finished his coffee.

Finishing his breakfast, he decided to get back to business. The first message, the fire at the orchard, had been sent. Now it was time to send the second. Putting the car in gear, Chris drove off.

Chapter Two

The young man sat at the table scowling at the other two men. The older man shook his head in despair, while the oldest man chuckled softly to himself.

I don’t know why you two are so stubborn, said Jacoby. I could travel Sunday night, be at school in two hours, stay the week in a dorm and then be back here Friday night.

Or, you could just go to the college in town and stay here. The degree is the same, argued Leander, Jacoby’s father. Their voices sounded nearly identical to the ears of the old man sitting at the table. If he closed his eyes, it almost sounded like the same man talking.

I don’t understand why this is such a big deal. Jacoby got up from the table and stomped over to the refrigerator. Opening it, he took out the gallon of milk. We have the money, you have plenty of hired hands to help out. He poured the milk into the glass, picked it up, and began drinking, swallowing with atrocious gulping sounds. Finishing the milk, he slammed the glass down loudly on the counter to emphasize his protest.

It’s a big deal because I want you here.

The young man sat down at the table and folded his hands together. He looked first at his grandfather, and then at this father. His father was a younger version of his grandfather. They were both tall, broad- shouldered, and strong as an ox. Jacoby was a slightly smaller version of his dad. I made a perfect score on my ACT, I have an impressive portfolio, and I earned a full ride to Stanford. No one does that, but I did it. I want to go. I’m 18 in a week, and I can do what I want. This is what I want to do.

Leander shook his head again, I realize all of that, but it is very important that you stay here.

The young man got up from the table and grabbed the back of the chair. He glared at his father. In his anger he catapulted the chair up against the table and abruptly left the room. The chair fell over making a loud clatter. The older man sat shaking his head. You can’t expect to keep him here if he wants to leave. He doesn’t understand why he can’t go. You never took the time to explain it to him.

What if I explain it to him and he doesn’t believe me, or worse, what if I tell him and he doesn’t care? questioned Leander.

Well, you won’t know if you don’t tell him, countered the old man.

Leander rubbed his right hand over the top his head, letting it rest on his forehead. Scratching his forehead slowly, he spoke, I guess you’re right, I’ll have to tell him.

The old man shook his head again chuckling to himself.

What’s so funny? inquired Leander, still scratching his forehead.

You were the same at his age. You wanted to go off and join the Peace Corps, don’t you remember?

Leander squinted at him, I don’t remember that. What are you talking about?

Well, it was something like that. You had that friend, what-was-his-name? Tall, skinny kid. Goofy looking too, he couldn’t grow a beard, patches of fuzz all over his face. He talked you into leaving. He had some crazy notion that you two were going to save the world. You packed up your stuff, told us you were leaving, told us not to worry because you could take care of yourself. You were heading out the door.

Leander stared intently at the old man telling this story. He had no recollection of what his father was describing. So what was it that changed my mind? Because I never left!

The old man took in a deep breath and sat straight up, Your older brother passed away suddenly, changing all of our lives. His lower jaw trembled as he looked away.

Leander continued to stare at his father as the memories came flooding back. All he ever seemed to remember was his brother dying, nothing else seemed important at that time. The new tractor was parked overnight out on the big hill during a downpour. When Donavon realized he had left it out, he quickly made his way out in the early morning to retrieve it before Dad got up and found out. The saturated ground had given way underneath the tractor, and it flipped over, trapping Donavon, crushing him to death. Leander let the memories wash over him like a wave. Thinking about it had made it hard to breathe then, and it was still hard to breathe in the wake of its memory. A loud yell from the back of the house pulled him back to the moment.

Dad! Oh my God! Come out here! Jacoby was shouting in a panic-filled voice.

Leander got up quickly and rushed to where his son was standing in the mudroom looking out the back window. The old man joined him, and then he, too, saw the smoke rising out of the orchard. Leander pushed Jacoby aside and quickly opened the door. He ran out with Jacoby at his heels. Go back in and call for help, he yelled, then turn on the hose.

Leander ran to the side of the barn, grabbing the hose from where it was wrapped neatly on the hook, and dropped the bundle to the ground. He turned on the faucet, reached down and grabbed the nozzle and pulled it towards the orchard. He stood there waiting for the water to rush out of the nozzle. When it didn’t, he ran back to the barn to make sure he had turned the spigot enough to have pressure. That’s when he saw the problem. Someone had cut a huge foot-long section vertically along the shaft of the hose. The water was gushing out next to the barn.

Jacoby ran inside and grabbed the phone off the hook. He dialed 911 and immediately got the operator. We have a fire, big fire, in the orchard at Raziel Farm, Worthington Road.

The operator repeated the information back and then said, There is a tree down on Highway 101, cleanup crew is on the scene, please stay on the line.

Jacoby looked around, panic stricken. With the news of the downed tree, he realized it would take longer for help to arrive. He wanted to get back outside. He saw his grandfather standing in the doorway. In one quick movement, he pushed the phone into his grandfather’s hand. Looking him in the eye he said, I’m going back out. He moved past his grandfather and rushed out of the house.

Leander ran towards the house and grabbed the hose that was coiled outside the mudroom door. He turned on the water full blast, but before he could move the hose, water rushed out the side, just like the hose at the barn. He reached down and turned off the spigot, then sprinted to the barn to grab buckets. When he reached the stack of buckets in the corner he found that all the handles had been broken off, there was no way to carry them. He swallowed hard as fear, anger, and confusion ripped through his body. ‘Who did this?’ he thought.

Jacoby arrived at his side. The hoses are cut, he shouted.

I know, and the buckets are destroyed, too. Did you call the fire department? he asked his son.

Jacoby nodded his head, and then looked directly into his father’s eyes, They’ll be delayed, there’s a tree down across the road.

Dammit! yelled Leander.

The old man appeared in the doorway, We can use the horse blankets. Hurry, get them out.

Leander ran to the back of the barn, followed by Jacoby. Leander pulled on a stack of blankets neatly stacked on a shelf, and they tumbled to the ground. Picking up two, he gave one to Jacoby and ran out the back. He found the corners, opened the blanket and started to beat at the flames at the edge of the orchard, trying to extinguish the fire. Again, Jacoby was at his side, and they swatted the flames as quickly as they could. The trees nearest the barn continued to smolder as the flames subsided, and they moved on to the next trees in the row. Leander had moved past Jacoby to work the trees in the second row when he saw the old man flapping a blanket at the flames. He had stepped into the center of the orchard where