Earthquake

(Picture Credit - Earthquake by ExtinctionProtocol NZ)

What a shock! An Earthquake in England. Even a small volcano. An unexpected event after millions of years of almost complete stillness. Buildings fell, people died, and for quite a while there was chaos. Many stories to tell.

The epicentre of all this carnage was somewhere up in The Yorkshire Dales. This earthquake left one particularly massive scar: a deep ravine revealing the interior of The Earth. It was here that an even more amazing story was soon played out.

Once all the dust had settled, Tim Torrance and his team of scientists and cavers set out to plumb the depths of that crevasse. Their objective was simple: to find out exactly what was down there. It was estimated by geologists that many millions of years of our past would be revealed to the scientific world.

Tim had to keep that great objective in mind as he made his way down this sheer cliff-face like a tiny money-spider slipping down a skyscraper. The cruel wind kept buffeting him savagely as he dangled precariously on those ropes. What a relief when he reached the bottom, even in that impenetrable blackness.

Presently they were “all correct” and ready to explore this abyss. Well, it turned out to be more of a deep gully actually. Geologists took many samples as they made their way along one side of the rift.

“These rocks are about two hundred thousand years old. That’s as old as Mankind!” purred one of the geologists.

Their head-lamps showed them the way as they crawled along the bottom of this seemingly endless Hades.

Suddenly a surprise! A Multiple Reflection! Like a star-cluster their head-lamps were reflected back at them! Metal! A wall of metal.

They hurried closer to that wall. Then all gasped. It was the wall, well the “hull” actually, of an ancient-looking spaceship! There was no doubt about it. All its projections and curves, its thrusters and antennae. Definitely a “spaceship”. Oh My God!

It was Tim who went first, walking right up there to examine the hull. The others soon followed.

Somebody yelled! An eight foot high door had slid open. Tim shot over to see for himself. They were dazzled by the lighting from…an airlock.

“Bob, Anne, Dave come with me!” snapped Tim, mustering his best “leader” composure. They collectively nodded and followed him in.

“Oh No!” exclaimed Anne as the door closed behind them.

“Oh My God!” she then half-screamed as the inner door opened.

“Welcome Visitors,” boomed a computer-like Voice from all around them, “Please enter the Embarkation Room”.

“Shall we?” queried Bob.

“Yes, follow me. We have to trust it,” replied Tim, firmly.

“How come it speaks English?” asked Dave.

The “computer” replied instantly: “I am the ‘ships computer Dave. Call me ‘George’ if you will. I am equipped with a ‘Universal Translator’ which works by, if you don’t mind this, reading your thoughts and all the language you carry in your heads. ‘If you don’t mind’ – ah – I accidentally made a joke there.

You don’t even smile. Ah, I see, you are bothered…”

Instantly the outer door slid open.

“There. You have complete freedom of choice. But you are welcome to come in. I have had to wait over two hundred thousand years for this.”

Within minutes Tim and the others found themselves on “the bridge”, standing before a huge screen. They were interrupted, however, by a low roar and a shaking of the floor beneath their feet.

“Do not worry my friends,” purred George, “I have just started my engines to produce electricity for full functionality. Nobody will be affected. I have also sent up a beacon, to contact my Users.”

Sure enough, a minute or so later one of Tim’s team dashed in, with a graphic account of that probe flying up out of the crevasse. But they were soon interrupted.

“I have contact with my Users,” announced George, “Our President will speak with you now”.

The great screen crackled to life and was filled with a sky-blue background.

Oh my God. We are about to speak to some Alien President!

A clear picture sprang into being. And there, before them, was the image of a young Man.

“Hello my friends. I am President Tegrin, speaking from the planet ‘Eden’, your ancestral home-world. It is wonderful news, to re-establish contact with you after two hundred thousand of your years,” boomed the voice, all around Tim and his party.

“Home World?” queried Tim, “I thought this was our home world, here on Earth. What do you mean?”

“Ha!” replied Tegrin, “I’m afraid, Tim, you require a history lesson. Our Original Home-World was called ‘Heaven’, though not to be confused with the Heaven of your ‘God’. Eden was inhabited later. Then we sent a mission to your ‘Earth’ as you call it. The spaceship you stand on, called ‘Discovery’, ran into trouble and had to crash-land. Its crew evidently used the escape-pods.”

“How do you know all that?” demanded Tim, “We’ve only been in contact a few minutes.”

“It must be so,” declared Tegrin, “Discovery’s scanners clearly show that you have exactly the same DNA as us!”

“If I may interject,” boomed George now, “My logs confirm, Tim, that the crew indeed ejected over the continent you now call Africa.”

Everybody gasped. The implications of “Africa” were all too obvious.

“But,” continued George, “I must point out one major difference in your genomes compared with those of Eden, you people of Earth. Before they used the escape-pods, Captain Adam had his crew genetically ‘made-mortal’. He assessed that, being stranded on Earth they would have to breed, but he didn’t want them to overpopulate the planet…”

“That is correct George,” interrupted President Tegrin, “We of the ‘League of Planets’ are all immortal. Captain Adam dutifully followed procedure by sacrificing his immortality, along with the rest of his crew.

But enough of history. We have shocked you and your crew enough for one day, Tim. I repeat, yes, you and all that you call ‘Mankind’ are indeed descendants of Captain Adam and his team. George, there is ample room for you to fly all these good people to the surface, ready for them to introduce you to the authorities there. If that’s okay with you Tim?”

“That’s fine,” agreed Tim, “I think we’ve more than accomplished our mission.”

“Good,” concluded Tegrin, “And, if you wish, Tim, George may then make you or anyone there who wants it Immortal, as a gesture of our good faith.”

“As The President says Tim,” affirmed George, “It is a painless procedure. A few simple gene rearrangements. Your wish is my command. I think you had better call in the rest of your team first though Tim. We have a little flight to take.”

Tim complied.

 

Paul Butters