EPILOGUE
High desert of Nevada, three months later
Arnold Moore stepped out of a gray four-wheel-drive Humvee with the USAF logo stamped on the door. He stared at the open expanse that stretched out before him. It was the same type of barren terrain he’d seen on the journey between Groom Lake air base and Yucca Mountain, with one minor difference. This was the desert in its natural state—unscarred by bomb craters, piles of rubble, or endless rounds of weapons testing.
In the distance, whitish salt flats shimmered in the morning sun. Beyond them lay rugged mountains the color of chocolate, as if the endless waves of heat had blackened them over time.
To his surprise, Moore found it beautiful, majestic, awe inspiring.
As he admired the scenery, a second man exited the Humvee behind him. Moore turned to Nathanial Ahiga. “Ready for a hike?”
“I really think I’ve had enough of climbing,” Ahiga said.
“No ladders this time,” Moore said. “I promise you.”
With Ahiga following, Moore took to a winding trail that snaked up the side of a weathered hill, about a hundred and fifty feet high.
“I thought you might want to see this,” Moore said. “In a way it was your idea.”
“My idea?” Ahiga said.
Moore nodded. “I was trying to figure out what we should do, based on what they sent back to us. You told me it was the other way around. That our descendants weren’t asking us to do anything, but were responding to what we asked of them. That being the case, I thought we’d better send them a message. Just to be sure.”
They crested the hill. Ahead of them, a deep circular section had been hollowed out. In the center, a hundred feet below, stood a tall, thin obelisk, gleaming like polished silver.
“You’re leaving them a marker,” Ahiga said.
“The Maya called them Stelle,” Moore said. “According to McCarter they carved stones like this around most of their major monuments. Ours is made of hardened titanium, covered with a layer of clear Kevlar, but the principle’s the same.”
He pointed to the side facing them. Markings could be seen in the surface.
“The larger details of what occurred have been engraved on its sides, laser cut and protected, in four different languages. English, Russian, Chinese, and—out of respect for those who kept the legend alive—Mayan hieroglyphics.”
“The Brotherhood of the Jaguar,” Ahiga said.
Moore nodded. The small sect had kept the truth alive as they journeyed from South America to the jungles of the Yucatan and the surrounding countries. Protecting the secret of the stones, passing it on in the best way they could, energized by the feeling given to them by the stones themselves.
In some ways Moore, Danielle, and McCarter had themselves become members of the Brotherhood. Certainly, as he looked back on it now, Moore found many of his own decisions irrational, even if they were ultimately, desperately needed.
In some strange way, he’d felt a sense of fulfillment and release only as he watched the laser cutting the glyphs into the sides of the marker. He knew then he was doing his best to pass the message on.
Was it the influence of the stones and the effect they had on his brain chemistry, or was it his own sense of duty?
He couldn’t be sure. Ultimately he’d decided that it didn’t matter. Certainly others had made the decision to help without such influence, Hawker and Ahiga chief among them.
Remembering that, Moore turned back to the scientist.
“Thank you,” he said, “for what you did.”
The old Navajo shook his head. “For giving me a chance to help the world? I should be thanking you.”
Moore didn’t feel that way, but he understood what the man was saying.
At the edge of the hollowed-out section a large crane swung a bucket of fill dirt into position and released it, allowing it to cascade down the side of the crater.
“Why are you burying it?” Ahiga asked.
“For the same reason we’re keeping it all a secret,” Moore said. “We’re not sure that the world at large is ready to comprehend it yet. But this way, the people who need this information should find it about a hundred years before they decide to do something about it.”
Ahiga cocked his head.
“The erosion in this valley is ninety-five percent wind driven,” Moore explained. “It progresses at an extremely consistent rate. About a thousand years from now, the bulk of this hill will be scoured away and the obelisk will begin to appear.”
Ahiga looked out over the barren plain. “What if no one’s here to see it?”
“Three others are being set up,” Moore explained. “One each in Russia, China, and Mexico. In addition, each marker contains a small nuclear core, an atomic clock—like those on the Voyager spacecraft—and a transmitter. If no one has found these things by the time they’re needed, the markers will begin broadcasting a signal to draw someone to them. Inside, stored in multiple formats, is everything we know about the stones.”
Ahiga put his hands in his pockets and looked out over the expanse once again. He seemed pleased.
“Symmetry,” he said. “They sent us four stones that were transmitting signals. We send them four that are doing the same. I like it.”
Moore liked, it too.
“Any worries?”
“Tons of them,” Moore said. “I worry about everything I ever do. But this …” He waved a hand over the hollowed-out mountain, and the obelisk slowly being buried within it.
“Nathanial, this is the first message I’ve ever sent that I’m certain will be received.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for joining me on this latest adventure. For those interested in the creative process and the blend of fact and fiction in this novel, I offer the following, beginning with my own thoughts on 2012.
At this point in time, it would be almost impossible not to have heard of the Mayan prophecy. Knowing that other authors and filmmakers had already explored the same subject, I felt it was important to take a different path. That path centered on three questions:
What did the Mayan people really think about 2012?
What type of event could possibly change the world or destroy a good portion of it?
If the prophecy were to come true, how could the Mayan people have possibly known?
In answering the first question, I found that the concept of a 2012 cataclysm is far more ingrained in our society that it was in the Mayan one. The primary source of the 2012 prophecy is the writings of Chilam Balam, the Jaguar Priest. These texts were written after the Spanish conquest, and while they do contain references to dark events occurring at the end of the thirteenth Baktun (December 21, 2012), the vast majority of the writing focuses on other, more mundane parts of Mayan life, and in some ways serves as a method of explaining the oppression of the conquistadors.
Interestingly enough, the Jaguar Priest’s books were actually written at different times, in different places, and by different people, yet they are referred to as if they were the work of a single person, as if some greater force was behind the whole. In time, this thought worked its way into the novel, with the fictional concept of the Brotherhood of the Jaguar: a hidden group acting as one, carrying out their mission, throughout time and despite all odds.
Beyond the words of Chilam Balam, there is less to go on than one might imagine. But less is not nothing. The Tortugero Monument Six is indeed a reality. It lies in a place once ruled by Ahau Balam, the Jaguar Lord, in what is now the Mexican state of Tabasco. Tortugero Monument Six is one of the very few—in fact some say the only—hieroglyphic carving directly referencing the end of Baktun 13. As described in the book, it tells of Bolan Yokte, the god of change (or the god of war, according to some), descending from the Black “something” and accomplishing a great feat. Interestingly enough, Bolon Yokte is as much a mystery as the 2012 reference itself. Little is known about this god and his place in Mayan theism. As described in the book, a portion of the carving is damaged and thus a full translation/interpretation is impossible. Could it be the Black Sun, or the Black Sky? No one knows at this point, and unless something new comes to light we probably never will.
To answer the second question, I had to find a new way to destroy the world. Not as easy as you might think! This earth and the creatures that live on it have proven incredibly adaptive to change. Ice ages, droughts, plagues: Life has survived all of these. Earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, no problem. Life even survived a rock the size of mount Everest hitting our planet at 70,000 miles an hour (the Chicxulub impact, which is believed to have destroyed the dinosaurs).
As I considered this, it occurred to me that we constantly hear how nature is going to rise up and throw off the burden of man, destroying us in the process. And yet, even nature’s greatest efforts have little effect on mankind as a whole. So I chose to write from the opposite perspective: Even if nature could not destroy man, man almost certainly had the power to destroy nature and himself.
And that left the question of how the Mayan people could have known or predicted this. There were only two ways that I could fathom: either they could see the future in some form of clairvoyance (an answer that was not concrete enough for me), or it was told to them by someone who knew it. In the greater sense, the theme of time travel had been settled on during the writing of Black Rain, the novel that preceded this book, but I had chosen that theme with this end already in mind. Of course, as far as we know, no one has ever traveled back to meet us, but there are enough theoretical physicists who think it might happen someday for me to believe in the possibility.
As for other facts and fiction in Black Sun, please read on.