Chapter 26: Present Day Egypt

"You can't tell me you don't see it! This fake manuscript would have us believe that the Bronze Age was swept into Egypt by one man! Come on, man, be reasonable!" demanded Dr. Symington. with his strong British accent.

Dr. Christianson remained in embarrassed silence, for he could not fight the argument.

Fortunately, for Dr. Christianson, Elizabeth came into the tent at that very moment. "Mark!"

Dr. Christianson turned to her, and all thoughts of his argument with Dr. Symington were forgotten. He admired the way the slight breeze coming in the flap of the tent brushed a wisp of her hair across her beautifully tanned face. Then he realized he hadn't been listening to what she was saying.

"Mark!" she laughed, "didn't you hear me? Your mother is on the phone for you!"

Mark went to the only phone at the dig site. It was a heavy, old black phone of indeterminate age, tied into a system that was agonizingly slow and prone to disconnects.

"Hello, Mom? This is Mark!" he spoke into the receiver loudly, out of habit.

"Is someone there? Hello?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm here."

"Who is this please?"

"It's Mark, Mom! Your oldest son, remember?"

"Mark, is that you?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Forgive me, Mark. My hearing isn't so good. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Mom. How about yourself?"

"Fine. I read your letter about your discovery in that Egyptian tomb. It must be very exciting..."

"Well, Mom, it isn't my discovery. I work with a team..."

"I wish I could be there with you."

"Yes, Mom. I'm sure you do."

"Is everything okay?"

"Sure, everything's okay here, Mom. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I think there's a problem."

"A problem?"

"That clinches it! Now I know there's a problem."

"A problem?! Why do you think there's a problem?"

"Quit answering me with questions! It's a dead giveaway that you're trying to hide something from me."

"Why would I..." he stopped in midsentence and marveled at his mom's perception. On a phone connection she can barely hear him, yet she senses his emotions and thoughts as if she were in the same room. "Yeah, Mom, I've got a slight problem."

"I thought so. What's the problem?"

"Well, Mom, it's a little technical."

"Try me."

"Sure, Mom," he paused, hoping she may cut him off so the conversation would take a different tack. But, the line remained silent. "It has to do with the dating and spread of technology, Mom. Quite technical stuff."

"Listen, you need to talk to Dr. Weiser..."

"Why would... Who's Dr. Weiser?"

"He works in this area."

"Well, Mom, I already have several colleagues I'm in contact with who work in this area. I'm really looking for someone with a rather unorthodox position..."

"Yes, I know! Someone who comes at it from your point of view. That's why I brought up Dr. Weiser."

"I'm sure Dr. Weiser is an interesting fellow, but I really don't have the money to fly off to..."

"You don't have to fly anywhere. He's coming to Egypt."

"And I don't have the time to travel to some other city, even if it's in Egypt."

"He's coming to the dig site. When I heard that he and his wife were traveling to the Mid East, I told him about your work, and that he should stop by."

Mark paused in exasperation, surveying the wreckage of his last excuse.

"Now, you need to speak to him about your problem, okay?"

Mark resisted.

"Promise me!"

"Promise?"

"Now, don't start with the questions already. Just promise me!"

Mark stalled as the silence grew longer.

"Promise!"

"Okay, Mom, I promise," he relented.

Chapter 27: Help from an Unexpected Place

Dr. Weiser was a silent and bitter man. The trip was his wife's idea. If it were left up to him, he would prefer to lock himself in his study and wait for death, but since he considered suicide immoral, he knew it would be a long wait.

His wife loved him with a deep and tenacious love, and had waged a seemingly one-sided battle for many years now to pull her husband out of his depression. She thought the trip might do him some good, getting him out of his gloomy study, and perhaps brightening up his outlook as well. Then, when she heard about Mrs. Christianson's son and his work in the area of archeology, she had even higher hopes.

Years had passed since Dr. Weiser had told her that he loved her, but she knew he did. Many times when his depression seemed about to swallow him up, the thread of her love, though stretched and severely tested, would pull him back.

After hanging up the phone, Mark remonstrated himself for being manipulated into the promise. He loved his Mom. That's why she got away with so much. Still, he was unhappy about the promise.

He heard the rattling taxi, and looked up to see its dust cloud approaching. He knew who it would be. One last time he went through the useless exercise of looking for a way out of his promise, but again could find none. So, he resolved to get it over with quickly, no matter how embarrassing, and say good-bye to this stranger.

He had to pull hard to get the back door open for Mrs. Weiser. As she stepped out, a dust devil blasted her face with hot sand and ripped her lacy hat from her head. Mark automatically grabbed for the hat, crushing it against the door in the process. With an inaudible apology, he handed the hat back to her, only to have her toss it on the seat with no concern.

She gave him a warm hug, as if they were family. He immediately found himself liking her, though he knew nothing about her. Meanwhile, her husband got out his side of the taxi and, after paying the fare, wandered off a distance, putting a shroud of privacy between him and Mark.

"Honey," his wife called out, attempting to cover up his rudeness. "Come here, Sweetheart, I want you to meet Mrs. Christianson's boy, Mark! Come on, Sweetheart." To a stranger, her banter may have bordered upon nagging, but it was really an acting out of her love and trust in him, and his response in kind to that love.

Gradually he sauntered over until he was standing beside his wife.

Mark stuck out his hand, trying to be friendly.

Dr. Weiser's handshake was little more than a touch, and there was no eye contact, or verbal greeting. His head was tilted down shielding his eyes from the dust and sun, but more importantly, from the eyes of the stranger. For he played a game, believing that, if he didn't look a person in the eyes, that person really didn't exist for him, and could be ignored. Only, it wasn't a game.

Mark took note of his extreme rudeness, and resolved to finish off his obligation to his mom as quickly as possible. "I understand you believe the Bronze Age came about rather suddenly..."

Dr. Weiser snapped up his eyes to look at Mark briefly, but the look was not friendly.

"...like, maybe it was spread by travelers, rather than being discovered in place."

"Have you come to ridicule me, too?" Dr. Weiser demanded bitterly.

Mark looked exasperated, shrugged his shoulders and exclaimed, "I don't need this! Mom, hope you're happy!" Then, he turned around and walked away.

Mrs. Weiser tenderly massaged her husband's knotted shoulder muscles as she spoke lovingly, "Honey, he's not ridiculing... he's seeking answers."

Dr. Weiser cleared his throat to speak, causing Mark to turn back around, solely out of politeness. "My wife says I've become a bitter old prune," he looked apologetically at Mark, in the only type of apology Dr. Weiser ever gave. "Maybe she's right."

Mark didn't know how to respond, so he stood sideways, undecided between going away or turning back.

"You been beat about the head and shoulders by the Establishment?"

"Establishment?"

"The men who define truth... and bury truth... and destroy the careers of any who dare to think outside the bounds they set."

"That sounds like what's been happening to me."

"You don't buy what they're preaching?"

"I don't know what I believe. I just don't believe the earth is as old as they say it is, and I don't believe civilization developed as slowly as they say it did."

"It didn't."

Mark was interested now, and he turned back around.

"Take for example, the villages of Northern Thailand," Dr. Weiser got out a cold pipe and placed it between his teeth unlit. He had stopped smoking years ago, but couldn't bring himself to throw away his "thinking" tool. "Turned from agrarian to Bronze Age civilization overnight. The same with the Bronze Age in Egypt, Sumer, Crete... Same time, all over the world, in fact. And, where'd they get the tin?"

"Tin?" Mark shook his head, puzzled. "I don't know..."

"Where'd anybody get it?" He was warming up to his subject now, and a big smile spread across his wife's face. "Nowhere in the known world does tin occur in significant quantities with copper. So, how could the accidental combining of copper and tin, to form bronze, occur?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Well, we don't know, you see. All we know, is that the Bronze Age required the whole tin infrastructure..."

"Infrastructure?"

"Yeah, tin is rare. Even today, tin brings eight to ten times the price of aluminum or copper. Has to be panned from streams, like gold panning. After some guy pans it, he sells it to a merchant, who puts out his money to buy it, pay for a ship to transport it, takes it to a market to sell it, all at great risk, knowing his profit will justify the risk. How would he dare do that, unless the Bronze culture already existed? It's a simple case of what came first... the chicken or the egg."

"Chicken or the egg?"

"Yeah, the Bronze Age, or the tin infrastructure... can't have one without the other."

"So, what's the answer?"

"It's obvious! Bronze was discovered in a land that doesn't exist anymore."

"Pardon?"

"Well, doesn't exist because it's been buried under lava or sunk under the sea..."

"Like Atlantis!" exclaimed Mark, seeing how this all tied in with his budding investigation into the arrival of Atlantean civilization to Egypt.

"Don't know anything about Atlantis. I never said bronze came from there. Just, some place that isn't here anymore."

"What if I told you I had proof of bronze coming from Atlantis to Egypt?"

"Proof?" Dr. Weiser hesitantly pulled the cold pipe out of his mouth, tapped it against his side pocket, out of habit, and replaced it in his pocket. "Often a man's proof is no more than his pet theory."

"No, I have the actual artifacts."

"What do you intend to do with them?"

"I'm going to spread them around the world! Kick the Establishment in the teeth!"

"You're picking a mighty big fight," Dr. Weiser responded, with his voice getting quieter, his enthusiasm disappearing, and his gaze falling to the ground in front of Mark's feet.

"Join me!"

"I can't. I... just can't." Dr. Weiser was back in his shell.

Mark looked questioningly at Mrs. Weiser. Her broad smile, that had gladdened her face for most of the conversation, faded as she tilted her head in a what-will-be-will-be look. Mark realized he had probed into a very tender and unhealed wound. He looked helplessly at Mrs. Weiser.

She touched his arm gently, "Thank you."

"For what? I'm afraid I've made it worse."

"You've brought him back... for a time. For that, I thank you."

Nothing more was said as the silent, but deeply loving, couple stepped back into the waiting taxi.

Mark was saddened that Dr. Weiser was a beaten man. Yet, at the same time, he was gladdened by the confidence and arguments that had been shared with him.

Chapter 28: The Wise Teachers of Kemet, 429 A.F.

He decided to try making iron because it did not depend upon creating the tin trade. With cold hammering, iron would be twice as strong as bronze, though a little brittle as well. Stirring of the molten metal made the finished product stronger without the brittleness. These things Boy knew from his studies in Atlantis, but he had no hands-on experience with such things. Iron smelting also required constructing the high temperature furnaces he had observed on Atlantis. Again, observation, but not hands on.

He was able to do a limited amount of iron casting using iron from fallen meteorites, which did not rust. Such iron was hard to find. A few deposits of iron ore were located in Kemet, but this activity never amounted to much.

Roahphar found his struggle to civilize Kemet very frustrating. He was only one man, with so much to say and do, surrounded by people who did not understand, nor have the vision nor the training to carry it out.

One day Roahphar's depression weighed heavily upon his wife Kem. She cuddled up to him, placing her delicate finger lightly upon his chin. She thought she knew a way to get him out of his depression, and answer a question she had wanted to ask since she first met this unusual man on her father's farm.

"What makes you such a wise man?" she asked softly.

"A desire to learn."

"But, there are no teachers in all of Kemet capable of revealing to you what you do not already know!"

"On the contrary, there are many."

"Name one!"

"The wild Kaffir cat," Roahphar said with a smile.

Pleased to see her love's depression lifting, Roahphar's wife continued her quest. "How can the wild Kaffir cat teach my wise man anything?"

"Your wise husband learned from the Kaffir cat by watching the cat's natural wisdom in delivering this household from a pesky rodent."

"That's how you learned that these cats could deliver all Kemet from the rodent plague?"

"Yes."

"What other teachers have you had in the land of Kemet?"

"The mighty Great River."

"What did the mighty Great River teach you?"

"That every year she patiently fertilized the land along her banks, waiting years for the farmers to receive her wonderful gift for them."

"What you are telling me is that Kemet has many teachers, but few students."

"Unfortunately." And Roahphar's shoulders once again bowed under the weight of his burden, and his brow wrinkled in worry for his adopted people.

The great respect that the people had for Roahphar was to be his downfall. What father would not want his daughter associated with such a man, even in a minor roll? What woman, even if she could have any man in the kingdom, because of her great beauty, would not want to be a consort of the greatest ruler and greatest man alive in all of Kemet?

With such pressure, such hero worship, such desire, it may be understood that eventually Roahphar began taking on additional wives.

This stung Kem's pride, though he still retained her in a place of honor as his first wife. She felt something must be wrong with her... that she must not be educated enough, or slender enough, or young enough. She did not understand that a man's desire for other women is a part of man's evil nature. It must be controlled by the man, it can not be controlled by the woman. Yet, she tried, as hard as she could, to win back her husband's love.

And, if any could do it, it would be she. For she loved Roahphar when he was but a young man, with no gold to his name. She loved him when he had nothing. These other women fell in love with his possessions first, and once married, took the possessions for granted. They became quarrelsome, demanding wives. They were a burden to the ruler, for their human nature was not salted with love, but self service.

Only his Kem was sweet and forgiving, loving him when he had no time nor inclination to love her back.

Then, one day, a prophet was birthed by the seas, and stood before Roahphar. He condemned Roahphar, to his face, for taking many wives. All who heard were amazed that the prophet had such courage, and that Roahphar allowed him to leave his kingdom alive!

Roahphar changed after that day. He put away his many wives. He started to talk about laws that should constrain even his own authority. Such sacrilege! To imply that words on scrolls should carry more authority than the man himself!

Other men in the nation felt this indignation the more strongly, for they might some day be the next Roahphar. And they certainly wouldn't want to be constrained by mere words on a scroll!

When the prophet left Kemet, one of the underrulers heard his last discussion with Roahphar.

"Where do you go now?" asked the ruler of Kem.

"I'm seeking a very evil one, named Thoth," replied the prophet.

"Do you fear him?"

"I do not fear death."

"I see... May God go with you."

The underruler overhearing this surmised the following: This prophet is greater than Roahphar, for Roahphar obeys him. Thoth is greater than the prophet, for the prophet fears him (he mistakingly concluded). Therefore, Thoth is the greatest.

His underrulers feared that anyone who replaced Roahphar as ruler would be seen as a failure and a poor leader compared to Roahphar. They feared ridicule and even anarchy, for the concept of government and rulers was very nebulous in Kemet. The submission of the farmers, 95% of the population, was based upon the cities being the center for trade, and hence, power. All men were freemen. No taxes were collected. No standing army enforced the ruler's will. No formal rules of succession existed. But, controlling trade was very profitable for the rulers, and their greater wealth gave them credibility in decision making. However, nothing prevented the farmers from going back to bartering amongst themselves, as they had done a century back, robbing the city rulers of all authority and power.

To excuse Kemet's next ruler, who was sure to be inept compared to Roahphar, the underrulers began to create the superstition that Roahphar was really a god, by the name of Thoth, a name suggested by one of the underrulers. Roahphar was too infirm to circulate amongst the people anymore, so it was unlikely he would detect their deceit. Indeed, it would have horrified him to discover that he himself were being set up as a contender for the throne of the One True God.

Realizing that his time was short, Roahphar gathered his underrulers to his bedside. They had to crowd quite close to hear his failing voice. "I command that my successor shall be Hope."

Roahphar's sight was too dim to see the consternation on the faces of the men surrounding his bedside. He closed his eyes, seeking peace. They left his bedside planning murder.

Hope had progressed quite well in his language studies, and could translate the Atlantean history book successfully, though with great effort. He would be the most qualified to carry on Roahphar's greatest desire, to keep alive the Atlantean heritage and enrich Kemetean culture.

But, Hope was an outsider, a mere youngster. He had none of the alliances carefully fashioned by the competing inner circle. When the underrulers went in to see Hope, they hid their bitterness with smiles.

Hope was honored to have such important visitors. He promptly left his studies and greeted them warmly.

"How are your studies progressing, Hope?"

"Very fine, sirs. The stipend you provide me has aided me more than you can know. I'm able to study from sunup to after dark, because of your generous provision. Both my wife and I thank you very much!"

Hope's wife smiled shyly from the background, trying to communicate her silent thanks as well. She kept her son out of sight, fearing he may not behave decorously around such prestigious company.

"That's nice. That's very nice. Come, Hope, we want to show you something."

Hope followed them trustingly. When they got him to the outside balcony, they roughly lifted him over the banister and dropped him headfirst onto the pavement below. Two men stepped out onto the street with clubs in case the fall did not accomplish its objective.

Hope's wife saw the whole terrible deed, but her passion to protect her son overruled her devastated emotions. For, her son had also been studying the same dangerous books along with his father. She had noticed the tension building over her husband's successes, and she had made careful plans, just in case.

When the underrulers finished silently congratulating each other and turned around, they were alone in the Hope's house, and his study materials were no longer on the table where he had left them.

The news of Hope's death broke Roahphar's heart and spirit. The fall off the balcony had killed not just Hope, but Roahphar's greatest desire, and seemingly, Kemet's future. On his deathbed, Roahphar wept bitterly for he had failed to transplant so much, and because Atlantean culture had most surely died.

Unknown to Roahphar and the underrulers, Hope took good notes and studied these at home with his son, treating it like a game. That son learned Roahphar's picture language. As he grew up, he was able to understand more of the notes his father had compiled. He began an organization of scholars to secretly study and hand down the limited secret wisdom of Atlantis they did have in their possession. This group stayed secret for centuries, for fear of the ruling class. But their superior wisdom, and their knowledge of God, though also somewhat limited, caused them to evolve into the trusted priestly class respected enough to restrain some of the excessive power of the rulers. This same priestly group eventually passed on the legend of Atlantis to Greece.

Kem, the wife of his youth, was always by his side. She loved him when he had many wives. She loved him when he was too weak to love her in deed, in any way. Yet, she was intuitively wise, in spite of being uneducated.

As she looked at the face of her beloved, when he could no longer speak... when only his tired watery eyes could turn her way slightly in a motionless face... she could see images of love... yes, even hear, sweet words of love pouring from his near lifeless eyes, to her, from her beloved.

Roahphar died, in his own eyes a failure. He concentrated on what he had failed to do, not seeing the good: The beginnings of a calendar system that would be almost the best in the world; the respect for education, even without a Master Teacher to lead the student; the taming of the wild Kaffir cats; the transitioning from post-ice-age to dryland farming; and a hint, within their religious history, of the One True God.

To give credibility to the lie about his godhood, he was buried with his two precious possessions, the telescope and the history book of Atlantis, to "provide for his journey back to the gods". So, while conspiring in the death of Hope and creating the god Thoth, the underrulers solidified their power, but robbed Kemet of great wisdom and achievement.

The telescope had been coated with enough salt spray, during its arrival to Kemet by sea, to badly corrode it over the centuries, even in the dryness of the buried tomb.

Later rulers distorted Roahphar's self defense training into offensive techniques for conquering other nations. Kemet became a very warlike nation and the conquered peoples brought into Kemet a new class, slaves.

And the Greeks gave to Kemet a new name: Egypt.

Unknown to Roahphar, other survivors of Atlantis took their culture as far as the Mayas and Aztecs in the Western Continent and the Chinese in the Eastern. Modern archeologists continue to get hints of this mass migration of a technologically and culturally superior race, as amazing advances spring up suddenly in primitive societies in a hundred places throughout the globe. But, the scientists' prejudice that primitive man was backward and slowly evolving has inhibited them from understanding the many clues left behind by the Atlanteans. May tomorrow's scientists be more open-minded.

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The prophet is developed more fully in the third and fourth books of Atlantis.