POOLS OF DESTINY
 
By
 
Barry Ireland
 
 
The world had to change the way it thought. History had been re-written -- yet again -- but this time more dramatically. A young professor of archaeology at the Universita di Milano Nuovo had made the Earth-changing discovery. The existence of ancient First Man was common knowledge, but Marco Muraro had believed for many years that there had to be a second previous human civilisation on Earth; some genetic theory had been propounded to support this but now he had found the hard facts. It had been almost two years since his dig in northern Spain had revealed the amazing records. Under the millions of cubic metres of volcanic ash, his team had found the irrefutable evidence. The residue of a gargantuan eruption that had destroyed life on Earth all that time ago had given up its secret. The small city he had unearthed, with its strangely shaped buildings hewn from rock, had contained just one undamaged comparatively advanced method of data recording.
   First Man, now re-titled The First Civilisation, had been known about for hundreds of years. There was archaeological evidence virtually all around the world. Their ancient dwellings, artefacts and machines had been unearthed and even dated. The proof was so positive, and the detail of that civilisation so extensive, that the contemporary calendar used by most nations had been changed from plain Year 4004 to AD 72004. This was agreed so as to acknowledge modern civilisation's roots in that first advanced human occupation of the Earth. That civilisation had been prolific and it had been estimated that the world population had grown to hundreds of millions before its rapid decline and total demise. It was the results from the more recent discovery of a tiny scrap of genetic material from those seventy-thousand years ago that had provoked the thoughts in Marco's brain. Those people had been somewhat different perhaps, but it was apparent that current Man was similar to ancient Man in enough ways to suggest a definite genetic connection - DNA must have passed up from the old civilisation to the present one, somehow. But with a gap of seventy-thousand years between advanced civilisations, a period during which there may have been no animal life at all on the Earth, how could that genetic information have been passed on? The history of current Man was relatively short - just a few thousand years - and the rapid physical and intellectual development of the human race was hard to explain without it having that connection and thus a genetic kick-start.
   Marco Muraro was convinced that there was a missing link; an advanced human population between The First Civilisation and his civilisation, the current one. Marco and his friends and colleagues in the genetic research department at the university had pooled their knowledge ... and arrived at some startling conclusions. The contemporary civilisation of the Earth was indeed based on that one of seventy millennia previously; the genetic evidence was unquestionable. The rapidity in the development of the DNA in the current human frame, that huge enlargement which had caused the accelerated progress of modern Man, had even become almost understandable - provided that the missing link, a significant period of human development in between these time-distant civilisations - could be proved. Marco had succeeded in that proof with his discovery in Spain of The Second Civilisation. His own period now had to be re-named The Third Civilisation. But now there was something else; another enigma. Third Civilisation DNA contained what his geneticist friends referred to as anomalies. These deviations were impossible functions of normal DNA structures, something which was highly unlikely to occur naturally. The answer had to be that they were, at some time in the past, engineered, either by a high intelligence or by some strange and presently unknown exterior natural force. Again, Marco had discovered the answer in his Spanish excavation.
   And now professor Marco Muraro had been summoned to a meeting. Not with the Mentore di Universita, but to appear before the Upper Table of the World Council. This was the highest international governmental level on Earth. He knew what it was about; it would not be for congratulation or to receive an award for his work - he had had enough of those already - but for a serious warning. He just knew he would be commanded to keep quiet about the more detailed information he had gleaned from those Second Civilisation records and his theory of how it would affect the Third Civilisation.
 
Part 2
 
Princess Dulcefiori knelt on the stone floor, gazing down in unseeing silent remorse. Her companion Somigliari-Fiori stood behind her stroking her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. Dulcefiori felt the fingertips of Somi brush her bare breast. Those fingertips were cool, almost cold. They used to be warm.
   "Don't be sad, Dulce. Let's just enjoy the time we have left." Somi's voice was calm and quiet, but a little hoarse as if her throat was dry.
   "Time? We hardly have time to say a proper goodbye." The princess sounded bitter.
   "Let's just sit by the window, looking down the valley like we do when we make plans for travelling the world, having adventures." Somi walked over and leaned back against the stone opening.
   Dulcefiori turned her head to watch. She noticed that the limp in Somi's left leg was getting worse. That limp, caused by degradation of the left hip joint, was usually the first sign of the syndrome. Somi winced as she leaned against the stone.
   "Somi? Are you in pain, sweetheart?"
   "Not really. It's more a kind of tingly numbness than pain." The beautiful young woman coughed and put a hand to her chest. It was apparent that she was suffering in other ways as well as the hip.
   "Christ, Somi, it's really getting you, isn't it?"
   "I'll be fine. It won't be long now before it won't matter, anyway."
   "Don't say that! I can't imagine life without you. In fact, I don't want to live if you don't."
   "You must never think that, Dulce. You are a proper princess, a valuable human being with a great future. The things that we've spoken about; fair ruling of the people, equality of treatment for everyone. You must carry on and see that all that comes true. You matter to this country. Lord knows, it needs a fair ruler."
   Dulcefiori knew that Somi was referring to the king, her father, and his rather slack attention to the needs and problems of his subjects. The technocratic element of society was really in charge, and that, too, tended to ignore the ordinary people. Dulcefiori had radical ideas for reform when she achieved a more powerful position. But at this moment, something else was more important to her. 
   "Yes. My bloody father. He is to blame for everything."
   "Be fair, Dulce. If it wasn't for him, you would never have had me."
   "That's what I mean. I ... we, wouldn't be in this desperate state."
   "You'll soon forget any pain you feel for losing me. You'll have enough on your mind when you take over. Always remember our plan; the Peoples' Revolution. If it comes to a fight against your father, you will gain enough followers to win a civil war easily."
   "I don't think I want to fight a war. Not now. Not ever. The pain of losing you will cripple me for ever. I couldn't rule a country if I were mourning you. I need you for much longer, like for the rest of my life, that's what I need."
   "Not possible. That is out of your hands and even your father's. They have made out the ADO." Somi tried to sound bright to help her princess out of this gloomy time. But hardly succeeded. She was sad, too. Not frightened, as she could well be, but just sad to be losing a real and exciting future. 
   Dulcefiori was very bitter now. "Just like my damned father. Taking the easy option. Just because he could afford it. Get his little princess a plaything, another toy, to keep her quiet and out of the way. If only he could realise what he has done."
   "Plaything? Is that all I am?"
   "No! Sorry, Somi. I didn't mean that. Not from my point of view. From his, yes, but not from mine. And you know it, too."
   "Yeah, of course I do." She spoke quietly and sincerely. A wince of pain etched into her brow.
   "Look, Somi, there may be a way. I'm rich, yes? I can travel anywhere, dine in any restaurant in the world on credit on my name alone. We could escape from this shit-hole of a country and go somewhere better. I've thought about it often, even before ... this ... ever happened. I hate this hot steamy place, and I hate the damned way they cut buildings that look so drab and lifeless out of the rock. In other countries, there is clean fresh air, as we know. And they build proper buildings. We've seen them together."
   "Ha! You can't leave! You are the heiress to the whole country of Espano! How can you leave all that behind? You'll be the ... what, tenth richest woman in the world?"
   "Eighth. I'd give that up to keep you." A tear trickled its way down Dulcefiori's cheek.
   "Don't be utterly daft."
   "OK,  then. If you were me, would you give it all up for your one and only true friend, your mentor, your ... whatever our relationship is?"
   "Of course I would."
   "Then as I always suspected; you are as daft as me. But that's because you are me, really. I am not you, but you are me. Strange situation isn't it?"
   "So what is this way you mention? I'm falling apart at the seams. It'd take a miracle to heal me. Even if we go somewhere else, we won't have much time together."
    "That's just the point; I want, need you to get completely better. We'll go to Switz. There are the finest doctors in the finest clinics in the world there; they're genetic wizards. And after, when you are better, we'll live there, in some little mountain village in the clean air. I can take enough wealth with me to last several lifetimes; don't forget that I've got the most valuable collection of diamonds of any bitch in the world. And it'll fit in a small bag."
   "Dulce. Please consider what you are saying. If it did work, if I got cured, you and I would both be outlaws. The penalty for breaking a Destruction Order is death, you know. Even for a princess. And who would take a diamond as a payment for medical treatment?"
   "A certain brilliant but damned greedy Switz geneticist I know, believe me."
   "What if he gives us away to the authorities? Even if I'm cured, we'll still be hunted down."
   "When he's cured you, I'll cut his throat. If he doesn't cure you, I'll cut out his fucking heart ... slowly."
   "And what if I don't get cured and die anyway? What'll happen to you then?"
   "I'll have the diamonds, don't forget. I'll bum around the world, I guess. Better than ruling this god-forsaken country."
   "Dulcefiori! I don't believe what I just heard. What about the people? What about our Peoples' Revolution?"
   "Hmm. You are right, of course, as usual. I have my duty to the people. When you are better, properly better, we'll come back and lead the revolution."
   "What if I die? Promise me, Dulce, that you would return and do what we planned. You must do that."
   "I promise, Somi, I really promise."
   "How would we get out of Espano without detection? We wouldn't be able to fly out on a regular plane."
   "I know. I have thought about it. We'll take my new Overlander. I'll rip out the navigation system because it's got a tracer in it, and navigate by eye. Drive through the bloody mountains, out the other side, through Franco-Britannia and across to Switz. As long as we skirt closely around Volcano Enorme, we'll not be seen; nobody goes anywhere near the stinking damned thing these days, especially as it's anger is increasing. Don't forget that I have an intimate knowledge of these mountains; travelled them before you were even thought of. I could walk to Franco-Britannia with my bloody eyes closed. Well, I'd rather drive; it's two hundred miles."
   Somi coughed a dry rasping cough. Her shoulders hunched forward, curving in her chest. "Well, I've got nothing to lose, by the sound of it. The idea appeals to me, but it must be your decision, Dulce."
   Princess Dulcefiori and Somigliari-fiori looked at each other, their eyes meeting and silently agreeing the tryst. The young women were so similar that they appeared to be identical twins. Although they shared the same genes, they were not true twins. And Somigliari's face was now bearing the visual effects of being in constant physical pain.
   Dulcefiori stood up and held out her hand; a gesture that Somigliari was to come to her.
   "Come on, girl, let's do it. We've got less than an hour before they come for you."
 
Part 3
 
"We are obliged that you have sacrificed your valuable time to meet with us." The Chair of The World Council for this term was a fellow countryman of Marco Muraro, the President of Italiano Moderno, a man noted for his diamond-hard firmness in dealing with people. His smile was warm, his eyes ice-cold. Marco had seen this exact facial expression many times before on television. It meant, ‘I am a supremely powerful man, not to be messed with. You do exactly what I tell you or else...'  Marco immediately imagined him to have the genes of a Mafia godfather of Ancient Italy; that league of villains that students of the ancient history of his country publicly abhorred but secretly admired. Seventy-thousand years had passed and Man had changed ... but not in some ways. If his eyes were cold, the President's heart was no less than cryogenic.
   "Thank you, Sir." Marco inwardly smiled: he had been summoned to appear and had been accompanied on the flight from Italiano Moderno to the World Council headquarters in Chino by four armed guards. He did not consider that he had been extended the courtesy of choice.
   "Professor Muraro. We hold your work in the highest regard, of course," The Chair continued. "But there is one point of concern that we must discuss with you. I will not prevaricate; you know the subject to which we refer?"
   "I believe so, Sir."
   "Excellent. This business of ADS. The Council would be grateful if you directed your work away from that matter. The Council would further be grateful if you made no more public reference to this unlikely ... er ... condition."
   Marco Muraro realised by the tone of The Chair's voice and his continued dual expression - that winning smile backed by the absolute-zero eye demeanour - that being ‘grateful' for his public silence meant it was an order on him, an instruction to be ignored on pain of his sudden disappearance and probable death. The facial expression was what the Mentore, in one of his lighter moments, would call a ‘shoe-shine smile'; the protagonist of that expression holding one's eyes in pleasant communication whilst urinating on one's best shoes.
   "Sir. I felt it was my duty to warn everyone, humanity its very self, that we are likely heading for disaster on a grand scale. I hope that The Council realises the ... er ... gravity of my findings."
   "Publicity of that nature only serves to create panic and chaos around the world, professor. We can do without mass hysteria and we have the situation in hand."
   "So you will carry out my recommendations? You will approve the necessary genetic research that could provide a solution? It is a most urgent matter."
   "That will not be necessary. Genetic scientists at the World Council's own laboratory have already informed us that there is no possibility that ADS has been passed from The Second Civilisation to us. Professor, the humanity of The Second Civilisation died out thirty thousand years ago."
   "Sir, we do have genetic connections to The First Civilisation. There is proof in that our DNA is almost identical ... up to a point. But there is also proof from my colleagues' work that in our more complex DNA structure, we have mainly First Civilisation material plus the unaccountable anomalies which must have come from The Second Civilisation. Those anomalies are consistent with the genetic engineering capabilities of The Second Civilisation as revealed by their old computer. And if DNA can pass from seventy-thousand years ago, it can certainly cover a thirty-thousand year gap; the Second Civilisation was a spring-board for it. That was always the basis for my theory of the existence of a Second Civilisation. The only problem was that they messed with things they shouldn't have. I must stress that the evidence is positive and irrefutable. They created true androids; humanoid beings that were flesh-and-blood machines by using human DNA in all of the cell structures. These androids were not robots made for work: for instance, for hazardous environments where humans couldn't go. These androids would be vulnerable to the same dangers as humans; they could die from radiation, from burning or being shot. They even needed to eat and drink for their energy. They perspired when they were hot, shivered when they were cold. They felt pain. They had emotions and could love or hate. I have proof that these androids were created for very wealthy people, from their own DNA as perfect copies - it was largely an ego thing; to have a perfect double that did what it was told. Useful sometimes, too, to have a replacement. Many powerful men had Somigliari androids made to take their place in potentially dangerous situations. Even more had them made from their lovers' DNA - an android would, no, could never refuse sex. And some lonely people had them just for platonic companionship. According to the information on that thirty-thousand-year-old computer, apparently one belonging to a doctor of genetics, they discovered the anomalies in the synthesised DNA and suspected that it was those which created Android Degradation Syndrome - ADS. But even that learned doctor could not explain how a perfect copy of human DNA, produced in the finest laboratory by using human donor DNA, could create its own anomalies and eventually degrade."
   "So, professor, these virtual humans, these flesh-and-blood machines, all died out? They died from Android Degradation Syndrome."
   "Possibly."
   "Have you any information at all regarding the origin of this ADS?"
   "No, Sir. One Second Civilisation theory, a wild one in my estimation, was that there were rare cases of Android Rabies; where an android had been bitten by a rabid animal of some description and this caused the problem. The long-term effects in a human surviving hydrophobia caused by the rabies virus are similar to those of ADS. But I believe it was something else; a far more complex or higher chemical or genetic accident. Even a warning from Nature, perhaps, that humans should not mess with genetics? I have evidence that The Second Civilisation realised its mistake and the possible ramifications. They realised that ADS might be passed on to humans and mutate into a dreadful condition that would degrade all the body's cells. The human body would turn to useless jelly. They decided that all androids must be destroyed. Android Destruction Orders were served on the owners. Those that had not died already were arrested and vaporised in super-temperature chambers, along with the android corpses, to assure complete destruction of any genetic material."
   "Then there was no possibility of any anomalised DNA passing on to future generations, let alone future civilisations tens of thousands of years into the future."
   "Er, not quite so, Sir. Some unregistered, and thus illegal, Somigliari androids were so loved by their humans that they were hidden away to avoid the Destruction Order. But also, I suspect, there were hybrids."
   "Hybrids?"
   "Sir, these androids were so advanced that ... sexual reproduction with humans was likely to have been possible. Even probable. It had been ensured in the genetic engineering that there could be no android-android reproduction. But I believe that the possibility for human-android reproduction existed. The products of human-android reproduction, the hybrids, may have survived ADS but they would still have been carriers of it in their DNA. Hence the anomalies. And these anomalies would have passed through future generations, just waiting to activate an ADS epidemic at some time. Sir, I believe that the only way the DNA from the First and Second Civilisations could have been passed on to us is by the survival of a few humans or hybrids when all other life was destroyed by the volcanic holocaust of twenty-seven thousands years ago. We could well be descendants of infected humans or human-android hybrids. If we are, we carry the genetic information for ADS. That's what we must address and legislate for. One day, Android Degradation Syndrome is likely to emerge, mutate into Human Degradation Syndrome and ... destroy all the human life of The Third Civilisation."
   "You are trying to tell us that we humans of The Third Civilisation have developed from robots ? Enough of this nonsense. Professor Marco Muraro; the World Council has arrived at its decision. There is no danger to humanity from ADS and no further research time or funds will be devoted to this matter. And we would be grateful, professor, if you cease any work on this and remain silent in public as we stated at the beginning of this meeting. Funds for your excellent archaeological research into the other aspects of society in The Second Civilisation will be increased, provided that you comply with the World Council ruling. I need say no more to make the position clear, professor."
   "Of course not, Sir."
   "This Council meeting is adjourned. You may go."
   Marco Muraro sat in a chair in the hallway outside the huge meeting chamber of The World Council. He was exhausted from the travelling and the frustration of the meeting. He would have to comply with the order but knew that he was right. Friends and colleagues had helped with his research into Third Civilisation humans' DNA and the anomalies were there. There was no doubt at all in their minds: The Third Civilisation could not have achieved its rapid development in just four millennia without a genetic boost, a positive and continuous link with the gene pool of a past advanced civilisation. That in itself would have been fine - it was those sinister anomalies that were the terrible problem. He looked up and watched as the delegates from the world's countries filed out of the door and down the hall. The President was the first to leave. Marco noticed for the first time that he walked with a pronounced limp of the left leg.
 
END
 
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