“Enki has sex with Ninkurra, too?”
“Yes, and she has a daughter named Uttu. Now, by this time, Ninhursag has apparently recognized a pattern in Enki’s behavior, and so she advises Uttu to stay in her house, predicting that Enki will then approach her bearing gifts, and try to seduce her.”
“Does he?”
“Enki once again fills the ditches with the ‘water of the heart,’ which makes things grow. The gardener rejoices and embraces Enki.”
“Who’s the gardener?”
“Just some character in the story,” the Librarian says. “He provides Enki with grapes and other gifts. Enki disguises himself as the gardener and goes to Uttu and seduces her. But this time, Ninhursag manages to obtain a sample of Enki’s semen from Uttu’s thighs.”
“My God. Talk about your mother-in-law from hell.”
“Ninhursag spreads the semen on the ground, and it causes eight plants to sprout up.”
“Does Enki have sex with the plants, then?”
“No, he eats them—in some sense, he learns their secrets by doing so.”
“So here we have our Adam and Eve motif.”
“Ninhursag curses Enki, saying ‘Until thou art dead, I shall not look upon thee with the “eye of life.”’ Then she disappears, and Enki becomes very ill. Eight of his organs become sick, one for each of the plants. Finally, Ninhursag is persuaded to come back. She gives birth to eight deities, one for each part of Enki’s body that is sick, and Enki is healed. These deities are the pantheon of Dilmun; i.e., this act breaks the cycle of incest and creates a new race of male and female gods that can reproduce normally.”
“I’m beginning to see what Lagos meant about the febrile two-year-old.”
“Alster interprets the myth as ‘an exposition of a logical problem: Supposing that originally there was nothing but one creator, how could ordinary binary sexual relations come into being?’”
“Ah, there’s that word ‘binary’ again.”
“You may remember an unexplored fork earlier in our conversation that would have brought us to this same place by another route. This myth can be compared to the Sumerian creation myth, in which heaven and earth are united to begin with, but the world is not really created until the two are separated. Most Creation myths begin with a ‘paradoxical unity of everything, evaluated either as chaos or as Paradise,’ and the world as we know it does not really come into being until this is changed. I should point out here that Enki’s original name was En-Kur, Lord of Kur. Kur was a primeval ocean—Chaos—that Enki conquered.”
“Every hacker can identify with that.”
“But Asherah has similar connotations. Her name in Ugaritic, ‘atiratu yammi’ means ‘she who treads on (the) sea (dragon).’”
“Okay, so both Enki and Asherah were figures who had in some sense defeated chaos. And your point is that this defeat of chaos, the separation of the static, unified world into a binary system, is identified with creation.”
“Correct.”
“What else can you tell me about Enki?”
“He was the en of the city of Eridu.”
“What’s an en? Is that like a king?”
“A priest-king of sorts. The en was the custodian of the local temple, where the me—the rules of the society—were stored on clay tablets.”
“Okay. Where’s Eridu?”
“Southern Iraq. It has only been excavated within the past few years.”
“By Rife’s people?”
“Yes. As Kramer has it, Enki is the god of wisdom—but this is a bad translation. His wisdom is not the wisdom of an old man, but rather a knowledge of how to do things, especially occult things. ‘He astonishes even the other gods with shocking solutions to apparently impossible problems.’ He is a sympathetic god for the most part, who assists humankind.”
“Really!”
“Yes. The most important Sumerian myths center on him. As I mentioned, he is associated with water. He fills the rivers, and the extensive Sumerian canal system, with his life-giving semen. He is said to have created the Tigris in a single epochal act of masturbation. He describes himself as follows: ‘I am lord. I am the one whose word endures. I am eternal.’ Others describe him: ‘a word from you—and heaps and piles stack high with grain.’ ‘You bring down the stars of heaven, you have computed their number.’ He pronounces the name of everything created…”
“‘Pronounces the name of everything created?’”
“In many Creation myths, to name a thing is to create it. He is referred to, in various myths, as ‘expert who instituted incantations,’ ‘word-rich,’ ‘Enki, master of all the right commands,’ as Kramer and Maier have it, ‘His word can bring order where there had been only chacs and introduce disorder where there had been harmony.’ He devotes a great deal of effort to imparting his knowledge to his son, the god Marduk, chief deity of the Babylonians.”
“So the Sumerians worshipped Enki, and the Babylonians, who came after the Sumerians, worshipped Marduk, his son.”
“Yes, sir. And whenever Marduk got stuck, he would ask his father Enki for help. There is a representation of Marduk here on this stele—the Code of Hammurabi. According to Hammurabi, the Code was given to him personally by Marduk.”
Hiro wanders over to the Code of Hammurabi and has a gander. The cuneiform means nothing to him, but the illustration on top is easy enough to understand. Especially the part in the middle:
“Why, exactly, is Marduk handing Hammurabi a one and a zero in this picture?” Hiro asks.
“They were emblems of royal power,” the Librarian says. “Their origin is obscure.”
“Enki must have been responsible for that one,” Hiro says.
“Enki’s most important role is as the creator and guardian of the me and the gis-hur, the ‘key words’ and ‘patterns’ that rule the universe.”