I finish my candy. It’s delicious. I have the children with me, and we’re following clues to stop the plague. I think I’m good for now, if only someone would tell me why we’re here in the desert, looking for that Dodo location.
All of a sudden, the dessert turns from plain void into an artistic land full of immense drawings. Large artworks that have been etched into the landscape. How? I have no idea.
“They’re called geoglyphs,” the Pillar says. “Best viewed from above. Actually, you wouldn’t grasp what the drawing is about if you stand amidst it.”
My candy drops to the floor. My mouth agape. I am stunned.
“This desert plateau stretches more than eighty kilometers long. Geologists prefer to call it the Nazca Lines,” the Pillar continues. “Many believe the Nazca Lines were created by the Nazca culture around 500 BC.”
“It’s that old?” I say while the kids compete for the best view from the top.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the Pillar says. “Makes you wonder how such an old civilization possessed the craft and knowledge to create something like that.”
“What does it mean?”
“That’s the centuries-old multi-million dollar question. Just look at the hummingbirds, spiders, monkeys, fish, sharks, orcas, and lizards meticulously crafted on the bed of the earth. No one has any idea what they mean.”
“How were they made then?” one of the kids questions.
“The real answer is ‘We don’t know.’” The Pillar bites on his cigar. I wonder if he’s going to stuff this one in someone else’s throat. “But common assumption is that the shallow lines were made in the ground by removing the reddish pebbles and uncovering the grayish ground beneath.”
When I look closer, I see hundreds of other shapes, most of animals; birds, fish, llamas, jaguars, monkeys, or human figures. There are also what look like trees and flowers. What strikes me as odd is that most of them look like a geometric design, carefully planned and executed.
“This is incredible,” I say. “How did the drawings survive all the time?”
“Again, common knowledge is that it’s due to its isolation and the dry and stable climate. There is hardly any wind in this area of Peru,” the Pillar says.
“So they have been naturally preserved?”
The kids ask me what this means. I try to explain while listening to the Pillar continue his education. Then one of the kids asks the Pillar, “Did the Nazca have planes?”
“Smart kiddo,” the Pillar says. “No, they didn’t—or so we think. And although the lines shouldn’t necessarily be seen from planes—they can be seen from surrounding foothills, too—it still poses the bigger question...”
I cut in and say, “Why were they created and for whom?
Chapter 42
Nazca Desert, Peru
“It’s a complicated question with a complicated answer,” the Pillar replies. “In short, we have no idea what the Nazca desert was really meant to be. We just stare at it like primitive monkeys and try to make sense of it. Photographing it, analyzing, and puking theories. Just like Wonderland. It has secrets of its own.”
“So why are we here, then?”
“The Executioner told us the meeting took place in the Dodo, right?”
“Yes?” I grimace. “I don’t see the connection, other than that it’s the same name of the company that manufactured the hookah.”
“I am beginning to see the whole picture now. But before I tell you about the connection, I need to make sure you know all about the Dodo,” the Pillar says. “Not the one we’re looking for but the one in the Alice in Wonderland book.”
“What about him? I thought he was a silly lovable character, although I never understood the significance of his appearance.”
“The Dodo is Lewis Carroll’s alter ego,” the Pillar says. “You remember his real name is Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, right?”
I nod. Of course I remember.
“So Lewis used to stutter a lot—I’ll get into why he did later. Usually when he tried to say his name was Dodgson, he’d stutter and say Do-Do-Dodgson. Get it?”
“Do-Do,” I repeat the words. “The Dodo. That’s where it came from?”
“Exactly. Except that this is the kind of stuff historians will tell you,” the Pillar says. “I’m not saying he didn’t pick the name to reflect on his stuttering. But that wasn’t just it.”
“There is a bigger picture?”
“There is always a bigger picture if you open your eyes. The dodo is also an extinct bird. And it couldn’t fly. There are only records of it, and some claim they see it every now and then, but without concrete evidence.”
“Are you saying Lewis was pointing to the bird, too? Why? I don’t see a connection.”
“Of course you see a connection, an immense one, for that matter.” The Pillar points downward, right underneath the chopper.
I look, but it takes me a moment to see it.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s huge. Immense, like he said. But that’s the reason I couldn’t grasp what I was seeing at first.
But now I do. There is no question about it. One of Nazca Lines is of a Dodo. And I am staring at it right now.
Chapter 43
St Peter’s, The Vatican