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EPISODE ONE

SENDING THE CHILDREN TO A WORLD UNPREPARED

Late January 1997, Bering Strait, Alaska.

A pyramid spaceship lay hidden in a colossal cavern within a jagged basalt island for over ten thousand years. The island was in the Bering Strait amid a treacherous shoal between Siberia and Alaska.

At the spaceship’s departure bay was a sixty-foot-wide saucer-shaped airship. It was the only airship left of the thirty-four the bay used to hold. The light that streamed out of its open door illuminated an extended ramp with a wooden bench by its side. An alien couple was seated on the bench. Outside the lit area, a humongous space is hidden in darkness.

Human-like in appearance, Amo Obib and his wife, Ningning, were the couple seated on the bench. Motionless, they waited for their four children to come. They were in their thoughts - thoughts of helplessness, of fear of the destiny of each of their children once they left the spaceship. A deep sense of loneliness and trepidation engulfed them.

Tears had reddened Ningning’s eyes and welted her eyelids. She held on to Amo Obib’s left arm and, in melancholy, leaned her head on his shoulder. She said, I fear ... she choked on her words, then continued, I fear our children are unprepared for a world we are sending them.

Amo Obib felt her hands clasp his left arm, her head on his shoulder. He shared her sadness, her concerns, and her mixed feelings of anxiety and helplessness. Amo sighed, saying, I wish we had a choice. He paused and said uncertainly, In all the years I observed humans, I never understood them. Power, greed, and mistrust are things that shape their destiny. Never in history have they thought of themselves as one: earthlings. Countries, races, tribes, families, and even within the family compete against each other. I do not understand, he paused again as he struggled to make sense of it. He continued, It’s sad, for it is within the human’s power to make this planet a wonderful place to live. If they only knew the value of loving and helping each other, they could make their world a paradise. It perplexes me, he sighed, his head bowed slightly, eyes staring blankly at the floor. In recollection added, Nengut was right . . . our culture and upbringing will never allow us to comprehend humans explicitly, and neither will they of us.

Ningning was taken aback, surprised. She lifted her head from Amo Obib’s shoulder to see his face. There was no expression, solemn, deep in thought. Never had she heard him speak of human frailties. He was always optimistic about what humans could do and achieve for themselves and others. She wondered: ‘So many things are in human’s favor, yet ignore their blessings and take a course that may destroy the wonderful things they have---their family, their friends, and even their only world. They seem not to care, indifferent to what has happened around them, indifferent to their future.’

Amo Obib’s chest heaved. Fresh air filled his lungs, then expelled words carved out of torment, Our deaths will mark the end of the Durian civilization in this universe. With a question heavy in his mind, he asked, Did I fail the many who pinned their hopes on me?

Ningning looked at her husband’s face again. She felt his anguish, the frustrations, his unanswered questions, and the doubts that haunted him through the years. She held back her sadness, knowing the heavy burden he carried through all the years, yet never spoke a word of it until now. She replied with as much emotion mustered in her words: You were always at your best at the worst of times. I do not say this to please you, my husband, but as a Durian, you are an exceptional leader, a worthy amo. As your wife, I am so proud of you, and, uncontrollably, a tear seeped from her eyes, crept down her cheeks, and fell.

* * *

Amo Obib was no ordinary Durian citizen. He was the Amo, the Supreme Head for both the Durian Church and the State. He wore an attire no different from those he ruled: a Nero-type outfit, off-white in color, long sleeves, and pocket-less pants. The gold-chained triangular medallion, with an eye deeply engraved, distinguished him from others. It represented his supreme authority.

Amo Obib and Ningning were the only survivors of the thirty-six passengers of a gigantic pyramid-shaped spaceship forced to land on planet Earth 2.3 million years ago. Though they came from a distant planet named Duria, 579 million light-years from Earth, they could walk among earthlings and merely turn heads, much like seeing the Bushmen of Kalahari, short and lean. But unlike the Bushmen, the Durians were bald, with almond-shaped eyes, brow-less, lighter in complexion, small ears, and slit-like lips.

On seeing a group appear at the fringe of the lighted area, Ningning said, Here they come, then composed herself as she and Amo Obib stood.

Four women, humans in all respects in their early twenties, walked towards them. They had long, straight hair parted off-center that fell over their shoulders. They wore plain white dresses, collared, and long sleeves. Two had Caucasian features, and another two had Asians.

Amo Obib and Ningning, who expected each to carry a small suitcase, wonder why none carried one. They remained calm. A welcome smile was on their faces.

Of the four women, Lulu, a Caucasian, had beautiful blue eyes, a well-formed nose, and a sweet-looking face. She was a natural-born leader, a trait she inherited from her father, and sweet, much like her mother. She stood in front of her sisters. Apprehensive, she said, My Father, we humbly request your permission to stay with Mama and you till the end.

Ningning saw Amo Obib pressed for words and intervened, Please, do not make it harder for us, then hid her face on Amo’s chest and whimpered.

Amo Obib caringly wrapped his left arm over Ningning’s shoulder. Heavy-hearted, he addressed their children, You will never realize how hard it is for your Mama, and I see you all go until you become parents. He paused, looked at Lulu, and saw her posture in submission. In a melancholy tone concluded, Our time together has ended.

Teary-eyed, Ningning looked at her children and managed to give a broken smile. Sad, her voice quivered, We love you all so dearly.

Amo Obib heard Ningning sob and saw their children whimper. He stayed silent, consolation he had none. With moist eyes, he waited for them to gain their composure. He reminded their children, Never forget you are Durians by heart, though you are biologically human. Never forget your mission—help humankind without ever revealing your real nature. Work hard to make this beautiful planet a wonderful world to live in. Be a good wife, a mother, and an exceptional citizen of this planet.

One of the four women broke in desperation, What if I found a way to save you and Mama? as she wiped the tears from her eyes. What if . . .

Say no more, Amo Obib interrupted. "Again, I stress, do nothing to save your mother and me. Do not take any risk that may reveal your true nature. You are a by-product of genetic engineering. If this is known, your children and their children will suffer the consequences.

Freak is a harsh word some humans might use. Think no longer of us. Take strength that God loves and always be with you, as your Mama and I. He turned to Ningning and asked nicely, Do you have anything to add, Ningning?

Ningning’s lips quivered, but no words came out of her mouth.

Amo Obib sadly looked at Ningning, then his children, and said, Please get your suitcase.

Amo Obib and Ningning watched their children walk back beyond their sight in the shadow of darkness, then sat again on the wooden bench.

Ningning held on to Amo Obib’s left arm with her head on his shoulder.

Amo Obib gently stroked her hand on his arm. As he did, a question flashed in his mind, ‘Where did all this begin?’ then drifted back in time, 2.3 million years ago and half a billion light-years away from Earth.

Force Landing

Over two million years ago, a solitary pyramid-shaped spaceship zoomed through deep space. Its surface had no visible portholes, door bays, or signs of structural seams. It was perfectly smooth and mirrored the countless stars around. It had skirted many galaxies and, in some, through its maze of billions of stars. Straight ahead, a galaxy loomed. At the ship’s course, it would pass through one of its spiral arms, through a solar system, and from there, head to another abyss of black space.

Not visually apparent, the pyramid ship had two modules seamlessly attached. The upper part was the mother ship. It housed the Command Center, the Control Room, all the laboratories, and the engine that powered the ship. Directly under was the gigantic Colonizing Module it ferried.

The Colonizing Module was but an immense storehouse. The entire top level had half a million honeycombed hexagonal hibernating capsules. A little over half had Durians in hibernation. The rest were eerily empty. The levels directly under, and there were thousands, resembled an enormous warehouse of things needed to start a technologically advanced colony. It had shells of houses with its furnishings, various kinds of factories alongside its machinery and equipment, and varied types of vehicles of all sizes and purposes were stored.

Noticeable to all these levels was the utilization of spaces. They crammed every conceivable space between odd-shaped cargoes and even within the cargo themselves. The wear and tear marks were conspicuous on the things they brought and hurriedly packaged and stored. To the end of bringing as much as they could, it was excellently done.

In partially filled compartments, lifeless bodies of Durians littered the floor. Passageways showed signs of a calamity striking suddenly and all over. Wreck vehicles, primarily transports of various kinds, remained motionless on roadways and, others, smashed up against walls, embedded in crates, or each other. At most exits and entrances, several vehicles were cut in two by shut bay doors. Fire extinguishers lay about near smoke-marked walls, ceilings, and wreckage sites. Some were still clutched by someone on the floor. The sights of death and chaotic scenes created a picture of a hurried endeavor to load the ship that abruptly and catastrophically ended.

In contrast, the Mother Ship had no dead Durians anywhere. Except for the Command Center, rooms were packed full of crates and boxes that spilled over all the hallways. The elevators had but a small space for one occupant, if at all. Oddly, for a ship of this immense size and its complement of over 250,000 passengers, there were no sleeping quarters, mess halls, or kitchens! Such might reveal itself if the cargo were removed but not at its present state.

Circular in shape, the Command Center was the only room devoid of cargoes. The soft glow from thirty-six hibernating capsules standing upright and half-embedded on its walls dimly lit the room. A flight information screen occupied the entire front wall, and a closed door at the rear.

A wide flight control console with three swiveled seats fronted the main screen, followed by a slightly raised Flight Commander’s chair. Behind the commander’s chair, on a podium, an ached chair for the Amo and his wife. At the rear, rows of unoccupied seats filled the gallery.

A milky cloud circulated within the hibernating capsules that, now and then, revealed a silhouette of a Durian frozen in time. Everyone had identical skin-tight, silk-white uniforms that outlined their lean, statured body. The women’s outfits had raffled collars on their necks and at the ends of each sleeve. While the men merely had slits on them. Of the men, one had a triangular granite medallion with a heavily engraved eye hung on a twined reed around his neck.

Permeating the room was the soft hum of the ship’s propulsion unit that got louder as each second passed. The large screen up front revealed, in Alien writing and in translation, read ‘All systems: NORMAL.’

Suddenly, the ship’s loud siren broke the eerie silence in the room, and the ceiling lit up. Simultaneously, the milky cloud within the hibernating capsule got sucked to the side. The large screen displayed detailed flight status information. Written boldly on the screen’s top, in red and flashing: "IMMEDIATE DECISION REQUIRED."

The piercing wail of the siren jarred Nerus, the Ship Commander and Expedition Head, to consciousness. He had experienced this in simulations before, but now it was for real. He was eager to act but remained helpless as the acclimation cycle of the hibernating capsules must take its course. A minute later, the sound of the siren abruptly stopped, and simultaneously, all the capsule doors slid sideways.

Primed for action, all the Durians rushed out of their hibernating capsule. Three of the ship’s flight engineers dashed toward their workstations and urgently performed system checks. Amo Obib led Ningning by her hand and walked briskly for the arched chair. The commander rushed for the Command Chair, and thirty of Duria’s youngest and brightest in medical and biological sciences ran directly to the gallery at the rear. Anxious faces prevailed.

Goopersh, shut down propulsion, Commander Nerus ordered the moment he sat on the Command Chair.

Propulsion off, Goopersh, the ship’s master computer, responded in a lifeless monotone.

Silence replaced the engine’s horrendous sound.

Commander Nerus’ body tensely leaned forward on his chair with eyes focused on the main screen’s system status report. He saw no red highlighted status to indicate a system malfunction, yet the red warning sign kept flashing. Alarm heightened; he quickly shifted his attention to the list of ship status in the order of importance. His breath held momentarily to a non-critical line that read: Flight Mode: MANUAL. ‘It should read, ‘AUTOMATIC,’ he thought, and its implications flashed rapidly through his mind. He knew the ship’s speed limit maxed at the speed of light, yet the speed indicator read, ‘BEYOND RANGE.’ ‘Beyond range?’ he questioned. He shifted focus to their fuel and found temporary relief---it showed one-fifth full. He deduced a possible problem with the ship's new fuel - anti-matter. Anti-matter was compact and ideal for space exploration, covering vast distances between galaxies. However, it harbored tremendous energy capable of obliterating their entire solar system. Fearing an unfortunate accident may occur, it was never used on Duria. But the Durians had no option—anti-matter was the only fuel they could use for intergalactic travel.

The Flight Engineers successive verbal reports diverted Commander Nerus’ attention. It confirmed his hunch and quickly questioned, Goopersh, there is nothing wrong with the ship. What triggered the alarm?

I did, Goopersh replied laconically.

Commander Nerus’s body lurched on Goopersh’s laconic reply. Confused as to what Goopersh meant, he snapped, Your recommendation?

Eject the Colonizing Module and land on the only habitable planet along the flight path, Goopersh replied, redrawing the screen showing the flight path information and the target planet data.

Commander Nerus turned his swiveled seat to face Amo Obib and said, My Amo, there is nothing wrong with the ship. The decision rests on you.

I understand, Amo Obib quickly replied.

Commander Nerus acknowledged with a slight head nod and said, Goopersh, transfer ship command to Amo Obib.

Amo Obib is in command, affirmed Goopersh.

Mindful of hundreds of thousands of Durians in hibernation within the Colonizing Module, Amo Obib asked, What will happen to the Colonizing Module?

It will disintegrate, Goopersh replied, devoid of emotion.

Desperate, the amo said, I must increase the survivability of all. Do I have an option?

One. Success probability, nil.

Goopersh, how?

Release Colonizing Module at galactic orbital speed. Lighten the Mother Ship before engaging the propulsion unit for landing. Window to implement: twelve seconds.

Without hesitation, Amo Obib commanded, Goopersh, activate the Colonizing Module’s distress signal. Implement the option now!

Please remain seated, implementing, Goopersh responded.

Simultaneously, the safety harnesses wrapped the Durians completely to their seat like a cocoon.

The pyramid ship turned 180 degrees from its axis, and its propulsion engine suddenly started. The ship’s pulsating hum crescendo to a deafening roar as the ship wobbled violently in rapid deceleration. The Durian’s bodies strained as each got tossed side-to-side at random within their seat harness. In Commander Nerus’ mind, he pleaded, ‘Slow down, slow down!’---their lives depended on the ship’s structural integrity to overcome the stresses exerted as the ship sped down to sub-light speed level. When it did, the intense wobbling stopped; their harness slid to the seat’s side; silence quickly followed by a loud metallic thud and a sharp jolt.

The tense atmosphere in the room was replaced with relief. With awe, the Durians watched on the screen as the mothership detached itself from the colonizing module it ferried and drifted sideways. Huge by itself, the Mothership was insignificant compared to the humongous Colonizing Module. On clearing the module, the propulsion engine restarted. Instantly, the colonizing module disappeared from the screen as the ship rapidly decelerated. The ship hummed as it aligned itself to its destination, then silence.

The eerie silence triggered a sense of gloom. The Durians knew the Colonizing Module housed everything they needed to start a colony. Worse still, hundreds of thousands of shipmates in hibernation were within its walls.

Goopersh reported, Colonizing Module is in galactic orbit. The propulsion unit is offline and cruising on the ship’s inertia. Travel time to target planet at current speed: 1,267 years. Goopersh added, You are no longer in any danger, and the warning sign on the screen went blank.

Amo Obib said, Goopersh, I am turning ship command to Commander Nerus.

Goopersh confirmed the command transfer.

With heightened concern, Commander Nerus asked, Goopersh, how long will the batteries that power the hibernating capsules last?

The hibernating capsules are independently powered and will last approximately 2.3 million years.

And this ship?

This ship will disintegrate three years later.

How many Durians are in the Colonizing Module?

Last report: 254,351.

The words and number caught Commander Neru’s attention. The module could accommodate half a million Durians in hibernation, and the term ‘Last report’ bothered him. Download ship status for review, he instructed, then convened a Flight Staff meeting at the Control Room.

The Predicament

Durians, in small groups within the Command Center, chatted in low voices. The chatting stopped when Commander Nerus and his flight staff returned to the room from the Control Room. Durians, along the Commander’s direct path to the amo, moved aside.

On getting to where the amo was seated, the Commander addressed the amo with reverend, My Amo, I will brief you on our situation.

Good, Amo Obib responded.

Commander Nerus led the Amo to a small, claustrophobic room. A rectangular table with four chairs on its sides occupied most of the floor space; its walls were bare. It represented the ship’s design criteria—maximum use of space within the ship.

The Commander courteously had the amo sit close to the door for easy access. He sat on the opposite chair whose backrest was but an inch of space to the wall. He started with concern, My Amo, when Goopersh said our chance of safe landing was nil, it computed the things to dispose of the ship before landing. Saving time on the twelve seconds left us the safe margin to land but not much more.

Not much more? Amo Obib responded with surprise and then apprehension. It was open knowledge that the anti-matter-fuel the ship carried was enough for their purpose. There was enough to explore thousands of planets in dozens of galaxies and still provide power to the new colony’s needs for over a thousand years. To run out of it seemed unbelievable.

Unfortunately, we were launched on manual mode at maximum power. We depleted our fuel just cruising the vastness of outer space and slowing down the ship.

Worriedly, the Amo asked, Where do we stand?

Straightforward, the commander said, We have but two years of fuel left. When the ship runs out of it, the ship will implode. The other thing to consider is radioactivity. Goopersh’s radioactive reading of the planet indicates higher than we can tolerate. However, the reading may not be accurate as the radiation may come from behind the planet and not from the planet itself. We need to confirm that once we are on the planet.

Amo Obib, educated in biochemistry and genetic engineering, knew the adverse effects of high radiation on Durian’s health, asked, When you said ‘higher,’ how high is it?

It is high enough to confine us in the ship.

Can we go to another planet?

The planet is the only one we can land on with living conditions close to ours. Missing it will result in the ship running out of fuel before it can come near another galaxy.

You said two years maximum?

Yes. My Amo, all the ship’s operating systems and its structural integrity are dependent on the energy converter. If we get the converter to power basic systems, we have no more than two years of fuel. At depletion, the ship will implode. Fortunately, Goopersh left out the ship’s redundant systems. If we dispose of the redundant systems, we will have an additional twenty-three years of fuel utilizing all the ship’s facilities. We can add more if we strip the ship of non-essential structural elements and dispose of supplies we can live without or make once on the planet. It’s worth the inconvenience and risk, the commander stressed.

A worried look was on Amo Obib’s face as he considered the commander's proposal. Shortly after, he said, As you aptly put it, we will dispose of anything we can live without. We will take the risk of removing all redundant systems and discuss what we will do with the added time once we are on the planet. Curiously asked, Are there intelligent beings on the planet?

There are no unnatural features on the planet’s surface to indicate intelligent forms of life. If it is in its infancy, we can shut off the energy converter and hibernate for 2.3 million years. Hopefully, by then, intelligent beings would have evolved to help us directly, the commander answered.

Amo Obib understood its implications and replied, I pray it will be so. Your decision on the matter is my decision. I give you leave to preside over the meeting and inform everyone of our predicament and plan.

Strip the Ship

The thirty-six Durians in the entire ship were present at the Command Center for their first general meeting. Commander Nerus stood beside the seated Amo, and his wife arched chair fronting the gallery. The three flight engineers sat on the floor, fronting them for visibility. Once all were seated, the sight of the thirty-five other living souls in the entire ship overwhelmed Commander Nerus. It made him realize the enormity of his responsibility to those before him and those stranded in outer space. He started the meeting with a short prayer and then explained their predicament.

Commander Nerus concluded his report, We can land safely on the planet but for a price. We must strip the ship of non-essentials down. We will hold on to our biological and medical equipment and supplies, essential testers and meters, and all exploratory airships. I am open to questions.

Eager hands rose from the gallery. The commander pointed to one who asked, Why did Goopersh not override the system before warning us?

Commander Nerus answered, Our master computer, Goopersh, is programmed never to override manual settings. It can warn should it sense imminent danger to our safety, and that was what it did.

Analytical, a flight engineer seated on the floor asked, The ship was launched on manual mode during the unmanned flight while all of us were in hibernation. Do you know why?

Commander Nerus did not know why but knew the answer would require an explanation from the non-technically oriented passengers. He explained, On Automated Mode, Goopersh was programmed to find and explore a habitable planet within our galaxy first, then nearby galaxies if needed. It would evaluate the planet for habitability. Once found, Goopersh would wake everyone here to conduct an in-depth analysis to ascertain our adaptability to the new living environment. Once ascertained, colonizing the planet begins. As it was, we left our planet, our solar system, and our galaxy and crossed thousands more. I was forced to leave the Colonizing Module deep in space with over two-hundred-fifty thousand of our brothers and sisters in hibernation to orbit this galaxy indefinitely. We will only know why if we review events before liftoff and will do so after I answer all your questions.

Immediately after the ‘Question and Answer’ session, and eager to know why they were launched on ‘manual mode,’ Commander Nerus commanded, Goopersh, display the external audiovisual record ten minutes before ship launch.

Goopersh responded, No record in my memory bank.

The response was unexpected. The commander considered the possibilities and asked, Was the ship prematurely launched during the power switch-over?

Affirmative.

Commander Nerus understood its implications. He explained, During power switch-over, that is, from external to internal power source, the entire ship's systems and computer programs are checked one by one. Once checked, it is powered up by an external computer. During the process, our internal computer, Goopersh, was on ‘Standby Mode’ and could not receive communications. Bypassing the switchover process for any reason, will launch the ship in manual mode. Something catastrophic must have happened before launching as we were launched in manual mode, Commander Nerus said, then instructed, Goopersh, show video at startup.

Displayed on the screen dismayed everyone. Thick black smoke, jutting flames, and flying debris were all they could see from all the camera locations within the enormous assembly building. Between deafening explosions were the sounds of sirens. The ship rose amid smoke and flames, then smashed through the building’s roof. On clearing the building, the cameras showed a fiery inferno had engulfed the launch site; pockets of fire peppered the immediate scenery, and the city at a distance, in infernal flames.

As the spaceship accelerated upward, the devastation became clear and frightening. Thousands of meteor impact craters and bright flashes of explosions pockmarked Duria’s surface. As the cameras scanned sideways, an enormous plasma cluster, a molten mass spewed by their sun 159 days earlier, headed directly at planet Duria. Seconds after, the planet shrank away from view as the pyramid ship sped exponentially to a course away from their planet, their sun, their solar system, and their galaxy.

Amo Obib sensed the gloom in the room and saw the tears from Ningning’s eyes. He held back his tears as, from the scenes of devastation, fresh thoughts of loved ones left behind overcame the excitement of their adventure. A minute later, Amo Obib offered a prayer to their dear departed for their safe journey and the safety of those in the Colonizing Module. After, amo asked Commander Nerus, Can we view our new home?

The commander ordered, Goopersh, magnify the target planet,

On the main screen, a spiral galaxy (our Milky Way Galaxy) loomed directly ahead. The entire galaxy occupied the whole screen and was a remarkable sight. Goopersh zoomed on a spot near the fringe of one of the galaxy's spiral arms. Progressively, from a haze of white clouds, it became hundreds of thousands of specks of light, becoming thousands of stars, to become a lone star, a planetary system, and, finally, a blue planet laced with white clouds and a polar cap filled the screen. The entire North America, the Arctic Pole, and the northern part of South America were discernible. The Americas as it looked over 2.3 million years ago!

The Durians marveled at their new home. It was different and beautiful from the planet they once lived on and could never return. Commander Nerus went on to explain its features---the blue ocean, the green vegetation, the light-brown desolate deserts, and the snow-white polar cap. After, the commander said, We will focus now on the things that need doing---strip the ship.

They spared nothing on the list of disposables from Goopersh’s printouts. They jettisoned all redundant systems, almost all the ship's cargo, most of their equipment and supplies, non-load-bearing structural columns and beams, and most of their personal belongings. Except for designated areas, they removed the ship’s furnishing, partitioning walls, stairs, and flooring, leaving but catwalks and ladders, if any.

It was not an arduous task to remove the rigid structures as they could be configured to revert to their original liquid state called ‘Liquid Metal.’ Most were expelled from the ship but kept some for future use as they could be programmed to become physical objects---large or minute machines of intricate designs, sophisticated electronic devices, and furnishings without Durian intervention. But ‘liquid metal’ had its limitations. It must be attached to the ship’s structure and consume energy to retain its form, but not when it is in its liquid state. If the ship’s power source were interrupted, even for a moment, the whole ship, mostly made of this versatile material, would melt and then explode. Instead, the thousands of crates and boxes the ship held took time to remove, though weightlessness in outer space helped.

At the end of the disposable list, the trolleys, less their batteries, and their tools were all in the disposal bay. For themselves, they had but what they wore without shoes as the shoes were heavy when their functions were turned off.

Stripping the ship was daunting but was accomplished, leaving the Durians on the brink of collapse from exhaustion and hunger. The ship was exclusively meant to ferry the Colonizing Module; thus, it had no kitchen, sleeping quarters, or stored food. The Durians' only sustenance came from the snack boxes packed within the thirty-four airship’s cargo holds. There was enough food there to last a week when rationed.

When the time to go into hibernation came, Amo Obib and Ningning assisted individuals to their hibernating capsule, bidding each, Po-ogi si bobi.

On Ningning's turn, Amo Obib guided her as she moved backward in her capsule.

On intuition, Ningning said, Do not stay longer than you should, my husband, ending with a quaint smile.

Amo Obib was taken aback. He did not tell her of his plan to stay behind. He did not respond but instead kissed her forehead and smiled back. I am fortunate to have you as my wife, he said, beaming at her.

Not as fortunate as I am, Ningning coyly replied with a smile, her eyes on his. Po-ogi si Bobi, my husband, she bade.

Po-ogi si Bobi, my wife, he returned as he stepped back.

Mesmerized by Ningning’s smile, he looked at her face through the transparent hibernator’s door as it slid closed. He noticed her eyelids flutter in an induced sleep state. When her eyelids finally closed, she still wore a sweet smile on her face.

Inevitable Conclusion

Except for the lined hibernating capsules on the sidewalls and the command chair, the Command Center was bare. With no ship command to execute, Amo Obib sat on the cold floor by a wall and leaned on it. As he organized his thoughts, Goopersh cautioned, My instructions include turning off the ventilation and lighting systems. Please enter your hibernating capsule.

Goopersh, turn off both. Advise me when the breathable air in the room becomes low.

I will warn, then the ceiling light turned off, and the air from the ventilation ducts ceased to flow. Only the soft glow from the hibernators dimly lit the room.

As their spiritual leader and head of their community, the civilization’s future was in Amo’s hands and weighed heavily in his mind. He never had the chance to be alone and needed time to assess their situation. To know equally, if not better---his decision was final, it must be right the first time. Goopersh, please display planet data, then engaged Goopersh in a dialogue on the planet's atmospheric and geological makeup. He was meticulous in his questions. He must not make a wrong decision. Too much was at stake.

Exhausting the subjects, he leaned his head on his hands with his elbows resting on bent knees and focused on things he might have missed.

Amo Obib

Amo Obib, whose layperson's name was Obib Opmac, was a child prodigy. His interest in biology as a small boy led him to pursue Biochemistry and Genetic Engineering, graduating with the highest honors. With restrictive church laws on genetic research, he could not broaden his knowledge in the field. Young and restless, he crusaded for the liberalization of educational policies on Genetic Engineering and the revocation of the space exploration ban. He did not appreciate the Durian State Policy of isolation from the universe around them. For fear of detection by malevolent intelligent beings beyond their solar system, they ringed their planet with satellites that rendered it physically and electronically invisible. He vehemently contended that the theoretical understanding of the physical universe was insufficient. He fervently believed exploring the universe for the good of other civilizations was a worthy Durian endeavor. He sent countless request letters to the Council of Elders for an audience on the subjects. They acknowledged receipt of his letters, nothing else.

Obib rallied the university students, especially those in the scientific field. Most concurred with his proposals but ignored his plan for a mass petition. Oddly, Durians relied on the church to decide on issues that affected their community. They believed state laws and policies must be set forth to benefit the whole. A determination left to the Council of Elders to research, discuss, ruminate, and recommend for the amo’s approval. Durians had no reason to complain. They had a society of free and happy people solely from the guidance of their church, who looked upon their wellbeing with unquestionable devotion. However, Obib was no average Durian. He was a young scientist eager to explore and venture into the unknown. With laws that set limits to his quest for knowledge, he felt his mind choked and imprisoned.

A year later, the Elders offered him a job as the first Administrator of Durian Student Affairs. He was puzzled. He knew his unorthodox approach to initiating changes to state policies and church laws displeased the Elders. Handing out leaflets and holding public meetings to question state policies and church teachings were unheard of. Yet the Elders never talked him out nor restrained him from his activities. Permits to hold public meetings came easier than usual. It puzzled Obib more when he offered a sensitive position, Student Affairs Administrator, which brought him closer to the people he was swaying to his views. He accepted the offer. It was a step forward, even if it was a ploy, for whatever reason, to divert or redirect his attention.

As Administrator, Obib saw the problem related to the students’ well-being. Durians understood their physical sciences so well that there were few things for the young minds to exploit. The advent of the Atomic Converter three decades earlier made it worse. The Atomic Converter epitomized Durian's mastery over atomic science. It was a humongous machine that broke an atom into its subatomic components and created another of their designs. The atomic converters opened new scientific frontiers and more promises to their technologies. But it had drawbacks---it rendered more technologies and job skills obsolete than it created. It was much like the Age of Automation spawned by the computer era six hundred years earlier. But this time, the atomic converter’s impact was felt a hundred-fold. As a result, the creative mind stagnated, and Durian’s youths got the brunt of it. With restrictions to outer space explorations and genetic experimentation, Obib addressed the problem through projects that required university students to solve theoretical problems and scenarios and a panel of experts to judge its viability. It kept the young minds occupied, but that was as far as it went, theoretical.

Obib never gave up his campaign for liberalized educational policies on Genetic Engineering and space exploration completely. It was a smoldering fire within. He knew the Elders loathed the idea of allowing young people to exploit banned scientific subjects, even if they were purely theoretical. Nevertheless, the Elders never voiced their dissatisfaction and supported Obib’s projects without question. He wondered what the Elders' reasons were, but since his activities were unopposed and unrestricted, he did not care. He had one consolation: eventually, the Elders must listen.

Breathable air at 60%, warned Goopersh.

The warning captured Amo Obib’s attention and opened his eyes. He saw the triangular medallion dangling from his neck. He held it reverently. He felt its weight and coldness and realized he was not dreaming. ‘Was I destined for this?’ the question flashed in his mind and brought him back in time when Duria's Governor, the highest state position appointed by the amo, died. The state was open to applicants for the vacant post. Anyone with ambition could apply. There were no restrictions.

To be Duria's Governor was far from Obib's mind. He loved his job as Student Administrator, and leaving was out of the question. But the Elders had denied him an audience on the merits of his crusades for so long that he felt desperate. Applying for the governor’s position allowed him to air his views directly to the amo---a personal audition was part of the selection process. He would withdraw his application after was his plan.

Obib remembered the interview day with the amo vividly when, as a layperson, he headed for the walled city of the church for his scheduled audience with Duria's Amo Tacio, Duria’s amo at that time. He recalled entering the unguarded gate to the city; he recalled feeling proud and fortunate---the church rarely gave the privilege to a layperson to enter the church’s city. Due to Amo Tacio's poor health, his last interview was at his cottage rather than in the large hall by the wall … the wall separating the church’s city from the outside world.

On entering the city of the church, Obib noticed the sharp contrast in lifestyle. He knew life within the city followed the old ways, but being there still shocked him. The walls that separated the church’s city from metropolitan Atlantis seemed to be a time barrier. Crossing the wall brought one back to the Bronze Age instantly.

Obib walked on cobbled streets and sidewalks lined with fern trees and flowering plants. Narrow perpendicular alleys led to small quaint cottages with brick walls and straw roofs. Men in tunics and women in robes smiled and greeted him as he passed. At the street's end was the sacred well built by the hands of their first amo, Amo Lam-a, at God's command. Touching its surrounding stone wall brought old memories of wanting priesthood. A sense of inner peace and an uncomplicated way of life overwhelmed him.

Beyond the sacred well was the amo's cottage. Except for the arrangement of the flowering plants and fern trees, the cottage was no different from the rest in width and depth but was the only one with a second floor. Amo Tacio, being Duria's Absolute Ruler, Obib expected something grander yet equally modest.

Finding himself early, Obib sat on a bench under a fern tree facing a small, well-tended flower garden. As he settled, he started to appreciate the beautiful, colorful flowers in full bloom and the serenity of the place. His inner drive to assert himself slowly faded.

Minutes later, the cottage door opened. An old woman in a loosely worn plain white robe beckoned him to come. The woman introduced herself as Medi, Amo Tacio's wife, though Obib knew. They allowed Amos to have a wife the Elders chose but barred them from having children.

'Medi looked different in a plain white robe compared to the formal attire she dons at public occasions with her husband,’ Obib thought. The church held public ceremonies on the only thing that protruded from the surrounding high-stone wall: a ceremonial balcony facing Atlantis, as the Amo and his wife had never left their city. It was part of their vow.

Obib knew church clergies lived Spartan lives and took notice of the austerely furnished room. They crossed a small but immaculately clean-living room; the dining table and kitchen were but a few steps away. They went up a narrow wooden stair to the bedroom. After two light knocks, Medi opened the door, and they entered.

The room, with plastered adobe walls, was small. Two wooden cots were on opposite sides of the room. A small side table stood by each bed. Directly above each cot was a triangular-shaped granite pendant with an eye delicately curved within---the symbol of their one God. Adjacent to the door was a closet. Fronting it was a narrow veranda that overlooked a picturesque country scene of well-arranged straw-roofed cottages set against a wide-open valley dotted by fern trees, flowering plants, and a blue lake yonder.

Amo Tacio, in a plain white robe, stood out of his chair, wobbling from the weight of his age and frail body. A smile was on his face, and his arms were stretched outwards in an embracing gesture.

Obib quickly moved to embrace and support as well.

Po-ogi si bobi, Amo Tacio said in an old man's coarse and quivering voice as they hugged and rubbed each other’s backs in greeting.

Obib greeted back, Po-ogi si bobi. As they embraced, he felt Amo Tacio's arm bones pressed against his back. At 193 years of age, the amo had outlived a generation and was going for his second. However, Obib had reservations. He somehow sensed the old amo's life journey nearing its end. From the side, Obib saw Medi wipe tears from her eyes as she smiled at him. ‘Why the tears?’ Obib wondered.

Amo Tacio said as they parted embrace, Let me have a good look at you. He looked at Obib from head to foot and even asked him to turn