Prologue
“Remember; be sly as a suitor and quick as a lover . . .”
“Shut up?” the old man commanded. The time for heckling was over. It was time for reverence for the occasion at hand.
Swan stood unmoved by the heckler. He faced the chief, his grandfather, waiting for him to continue the ceremony. His knees shook imperceptibly with anticipation not from fear of failure but from the excitement of this moment, this moment that had been his total focus for months on end.
Swan was a product of the New Era, an era brought on by a solar event decades before, one that had reset the genetic clock of the Savannah, and of the world. Ozone depletion and a change in the Magnetosphere, resulting from a Coronal Mass Ejection, or CME, had significantly changed the natural balance of things.
The Savannah had experienced an extended drought but was beginning to recover, now that abundant rains had returned. Animal populations not initially rendered extinct were rebounding.
A spike in UV had triggered mutations in both plants and animals. The new contenders in the food chain were not radically different from the old but necessitated a shift in natures balance. Every species adjusted to the quantum shift in their genetic makeup. The ill equipped mutations simply perished.
Swan was noticeably different from his peers; subtle of brow, slower growing, smoother skinned. He stood erect and had a less foreboding countenance. He was in his tenth year and entering a growth spurt. If it continued, he would soon surpass his counterparts. His quick and creative mind mirrored and exceeded his father’s. Swan had skills that baffled his playmates; juggling stones and dancing on his hands seemed easy. His animation and wit delighted his peers.
Swan’s father was proud of his son and excited about his future. He was also pleased that Swan was in harmony with the new Savannah.
Over the years, his father had watched the subtle changes in the natural functioning of the Savannah and passed this knowledge on to Swan. Together they tried new hunting techniques and strategies.
Swan's father prepared his young boy for the up coming emergence ceremony; coaching him in hunting and fighting skills, and guiding him through a series of fasts. The last fast was an extended one and had ended with a small meal on the evening prior to the ceremony. Swan's senses tingled razor sharp. His mind clear and focused his body taut and lean. Standing still for the ceremony was perhaps the toughest strain that he would have to endure.
His pouted lips, wide nose and smooth black skin glistened. His painted face spelled out his heritage, his accomplishments and his goals; he would be chief some day. At the center of his forehead a vacant space was reserved for the mark of royalty, which he hoped to receive some day in the future.
Swan’s father had done well in preparing his son to receive an honor that he himself would never achieve that of being Chief of his tribe.
Swan now stood before the elderly chief; his gaze leveled at the old man's withered forehead. The chief, shriveled by years, looked proudly at his grandson and continued the ancient ritual of commissioning the boy into manhood.
With a Hyssop branch the Chief first brushed the boy's right hand and shoulder then his left hand and shoulder. He ended by dancing the branch across Swan's forehead.
Swan stood as still as an un-plucked violin string. His small stature belied the eminent masculine grace that would soon emerge. His father had told him to feel no inferiority towards larger, heavily muscled friends. They were becoming mere echoes of a time past. The tribe was emerging from an age of trials by war and drought. He was a foreshadowing of the tribesman of the new era, he was cunning, quick, efficient and respectful of his heritage. Brute force and ruthlessness was the residue of the moral failures of the past. Not only was he achieving the authority of manhood but he was soon to lead his people into the future.
His father had been bypassed because of physical imperfections. Swan was not so burdened. With him rested the hope of many offspring, so much so that three wives would not be out of the question. The chief finished the ritual by examining Swan's testicles to verify his qualification to undergo the final testing.
The old chief raised his dry and wrinkled hand, grasping the top of Swan's head, and with a trembling yet gentle twist he turned him one and a half times leaving him facing the forest. “Swan, son of my son, present yourself to the Great Spirit of All Flesh. Be tested and succeed as those before you have.” and finally spoke the most significant word in all the ancient tribe language, “Return?” The word also meant ‘breathe’; it was spoken at birth when his father held him cradled in his hands and above his head, as a living offering to the Great Spirit. “Return” was a request to the Spirit to bring life to the boy and return him to the fold.
The word was spoken again at this ceremony, excluding failure as an option. Finally it would be spoken at his funeral as a request for him to return as spiritual counselor to the tribe. On this occasion the going out was a given; a victorious return hung in the balance.
It was time. Swan charged forward with three strong strides, and then sprang into the air with three consecutive high bounds as though he were a pronking gazelle expending excess adrenaline. The test had finally begun.
Swan looked back, trying his best to appear casual, concealing his apprehension and excitement. He hefted his spear to feign confidence and stretched his stride to look the man he wanted to be. Behind him stood his Grandfather, father and several other men of the village. The women and several of the girls were huddled at a distance, but they watched him, he knew. His father's face was stern but brimming with a proud confidence.
One of the men snickered and more then one tried to stifle a smile. Swan knew that this was the moment that they reveled in, as they recalled the anxiety of their own emergence.
Swan was determined not to let his father down by bringing shame on the family name. This was his moment; his time to show the men of the village that he too was a man like them. This would be his moment to shine like the brightest star in the heavens.
He had found the other tests to be surprisingly easy; his father had taught him well and shown him much trust. He had instilled a sense of responsibility in Swan, honed his skills and demanded the diligence required to be entrusted with the honor of manhood. His parents had also nurtured a strong respect for the innate link between man and nature; for them, everything was linked; nothing was trivial. Every broken blade of grass, every careless killing of a creature, every unkind thought toward man or beast was held to account and in the end would be judged.
As Swan advanced out of sight, his eyes scanned the ground for a stone equal in weight to his spear. It would serve as an extra weapon, as well as a counter-balance weight for his spear; his strides would be controlled and his quiet running technique enhanced. Running for distance and running for speed required different disciplines.
He recalled his father's assurance that his size would not be an obstacle but an advantage to be exploited. His shorter more rapid stride gave him an opportunity to change direction quickly. The spring in his step, and hidden leverage in his compact frame helped him to toss his spear as far as the best of his rivals.
He could have brought his bow and arrows but his father reminded him that the choice of a spear was a matter of tradition, a sign of strength, self-assuredness, and a willingness to meet his prey on more equal terms. It would impress his grandfather. The bow would slow him down and would make for a lingering and disrespectful kill. The animal might run unpredictably and for a great distance before succumbing.
His father had told him that following the catastrophe the Kimbra still roamed the plains but in smaller numbers. Their tribe was small, the hunt more difficult. But as arduous as it was they still were able to survive.
Swan's father interpreted the woes of the former generation's as a judgment brought on by the indiscretions of the men of the Old Era. It seemed that the judgment had now being satisfi
ed with Swan's generation. All that remained was for this new generation to honor, accept and revere the new blessings with grace and integrity.
This test required that he hunt alone. It was the first time, but it may not be the last. It would serve to demonstrate skills necessary to provide for his people, skills that might be required for his individual survival at times.
The test would be easy for Swan. With his father's instruction and example Swan knew he would prevail. Still, it was unnerving because his future hung in the balance. All he needed to do was to bring back the tongue or prong of the Kimbra as proof of the kill. His family would then go out and retrieve the hidden kill for food for he could not carry the whole animal by himself.
An honorable alternative to the prong of a Kimbra was to bring back one of several other animals that were even more elusive and in some cases rare to the point of legend. Swan had not ruled out this possibility. It would be a feather in his bonca and an honor to his family.
The Kimbra runs before the hunter can get within spearing range. The animal will run until it is safe and then will stop and rest. If pursuit continues he will run again. A very swift hunter with good stamina can eventually overtake the tiring Kimbra if it were not for one strategy. The Kimbra will return to his herd and hide among the herd. When approached, they will all scatter and the tiring hunter will likely be in futile pursuit a fresh animal.
The Kimbra is a swift animal and very wary. With several hunters the Kimbra can be trapped or cornered. But for a single hunter, the game is one of wits and a keen understanding of the animal's behavior.
The way to succeed is to carefully observe the chosen animal; to note subtle variations in its markings, how he stands, where he comes to rest, how he reacts to a threat, does he look over his right shoulder or left, does he pronk when he stops, does he forage, does he feign indifference while yet keeping careful watch? Swan must enable himself to re-identify his quarry out of the scattering herd.
He must be aware of where the rest of the herd runs to re-assemble and also where the prey runs; does he run to the right or to the left. The animals course must be anticipated as well as how many times he will stop before his circle returns him to the herd. By predicting the animals resting point, Swan can short circuit the arc of travel and run directly to that spot instead of following the longer circular track. This will also allow the animal less time to rest.
Diligence in these matters will give Swan the advantage needed in the pursuit of a single animal. The prey will be overtaken either within spear range or be run to death. His lungs will burst or his heart will fail.
Swan had learned his lessons well and had observed the Kimbra on several hunts that his father had allowed him to join, but now he was alone and the advantage of number was gone.
True, his father had taught Swan every trick he knew, but Swan had conceived of a few of his own. First of these was to locate the herd by climbing the face of The Cliff of Rutana. About half way up the cliff there was an arched hollow in the face of the sandstone wall where he could sit shaded from the midday sun and watch the plains below. He could climb the cliff face via a natural ledge leading up from the base of the cliff. From there he could observe the movements of several herds and choose his quarry carefully, a small herd, possibly nearby.
Another trick was to single out an animal with a single or broken prong. It would be easier to identify a single prong Kimbra.
From his vantage point he would also be able to check for a legendary kill. In any case he would watch until he was fully satisfied with the target; even if he had to stay the night.
Swan felt safe enough on his perch. Large animals would not threaten him and he wouldn't have to sleep in the trees. His back was to the cliff wall and the approaches to the ledge where he sat were well within his view. He laid his spear by his side even though his father had cautioned him against this act of un-readiness. He squatted on his haunches and settled in for what might prove to be an extended observation.
As Swan watched the shimmering plain he began to ponder the significance of the place where he sat. It represented the perpetuation of life for his tribe. It was his time to demonstrate his respect for this place and the authority being entrusted to him.
His father had told him the saga of The Cliff of Rutana and how it got its name. Rutana was the first chief in the new era.
The old era had ended with the solar event. That epic catastrophe altered the tribe’s world forever. All but three of the Swan’s ancestors of the time had died within days of the event. The three had survived the turmoil by hiding in the tribes storage cave in the base of the cliff. Other animals and members of other tribes also found shelter in numerous caves and burrows of the area. The animals exposed to the elements did not fare well; most dying shortly from the suffocating heat.
Father said that during the old era the people were numerous and the animals abundant. The people had grown fat and lazy and would rather steal from their neighbor than hunt to their own benefit or the benefit of their tribe. There were many wars with other tribes prompted by evil intentions, rather than a need for survival.
On a day when corruption was everywhere, the catastrophe happened. The sky darkened for three days and on the third day fire rained from the sky, along with lightning and thunder. Heat scorched the earth and a mighty wind intensified the ferocity of the fires that swept across the land. After the fires the sky grew darker yet, and night followed night. Within weeks after the fires died out, the world descended into a cold spell which lasted many months. Whatever had endured the heat was now tested by the cold.
The three survivors clung to life in their cave, venturing out to scavange what they could. While still scraping by in the cave one of the women gave birth to a child, a child that was sickly and strange looking. He had white hair and skin like the bottom of a frog. His survival was very much in doubt, so too was the survival of the three tribe’s people. The threat of starvation loomed for many months.
In desperation they determined that they would offer the child as a sacrifice to an angry god. They took the child to the top of the cliff and with little ceremony threw him to what should have been certain death. But as they came down from the cliff, they passed by where the child would have fallen. Beside a small spring at the base of the cliff, there was a marshy area with a large clump of moss. In the middle of the moss lay the child uninjured.
They took this as a sign from their god that his anger was at an end. To them, the child’s survival was a sign that they would survive. He was given the name Rutana, which meant bringer of life.
They continued their struggle to live, and as the time passed their condition did improved. The skies cleared and an occasional shower moistened the parched plains. The vegetation struggled to take hold where and when it could. The animals that survived the initial event slowly pulled back from the brink of extinction.
Though the rains remained meager the tribe managed to slowly recover.
Rutana, the boy who had been offered up as a sacrifice, grew. He gained strength and wisdom, becoming well respected within the tribe. When he became of age, he was chosen as tribal chief.
He led the tribe with honor and integrity, for many years. When he became too old to lead, he past his authority to another and then walked into the forest. Several days later his spear was found at the top of the cliff. It was believed by most of the tribe that he had jumped from the cliff. But his body was never found so they believed that he had survived and would someday return. The cliff was known ever since then as The Cliff of Rutana.
The story was fantastic and nearly beyond comprehension but Swan trusted his father and knew that he would not lie.
Swan sat intently watching the Savannah. The afternoon sun slowly entered the cave. He began to reconsider his perch. As he prepared to relocate he felt a tingling sensation. His neck prickled, and a high pitched ringing filled hi
s ears. He was disoriented and he felt vulnerable, as if something was stalking him. Instinctively he moved to grasp his spear. Before he could touch it a sharp clap of thunder resounded with a shock wave that overwhelmed him. The blast of air from behind slapped his hair into his eyes and grains of sand pelted his back. Swan stumbled forward toward the edge of the shelf. In a desperate attempt to avert disaster he threw himself to the side, spinning his body for a better chance of recovery. His fingers clawed for purchase; his toes reached for the ledge and his spear rattled off into oblivion. Just as his toes touched and lost the edge of the shelf his frantic fingers found a cleft. He arrested his slide and scrambled back into the cloud of dust while rocks and pebbles continued to plummet.
Is the mountain angered? Did it try to spit me out? What have I done?
Swan squinted and blinked, frantically trying to clear his vision. As he distanced himself from the edge of the cliff his head struck something solid where nothing had been before. Blinded by the dust, he froze, realizing that no movement was a safer option. He needed a moment to regain his wits.
To his shock and horror he found himself crouched at the base of a creature unknown to him, a creature of immense proportion, one he could not identify.
The cloud of dust swirled and curled up over the creature’s head as if in response to its command.
Paralyzed with fear, Swan kept motionless, struggling to level his thought, in preparation for what might come next. As he gazed up at the creature it began to move. Swan realized that whatever it was, it was very much alive.
Swan's spear was gone; there were no large rocks within reach; there was nowhere to run and no one to help. Swan was helpless but not yet hopeless.
Slowly he edged away to better position himself. But before Swan could decide on his next move, a sound came from the creature; a sound between the squawk of a crow and the voice of a man. Swan saw no mouth that could make such a sound.
The creature was tall and, to Swan, it seemed very ugly. It stood erect like Swan but there the similarity ended. It had one huge eye with no hair, ears or other facial features. Its skin was shinny and sparkled like that of a fish. There were three fingers on each hand and its arms and legs were each as big as Swans entire body. Its feet were huge and each had but one toe.
Suddenly and without warning the creature reached up and moved its single eye to the top of its head. Inside its head were features that were nearly as ugly but now Swan could see something that looked like the huge eyes of a fish, a protruding nose and a thin lipped mouth surround by hair. Its skin was milky and seemed without life.
The creature opened its mouth and sounds came out but it seemed not to know how to speak. It made strange gestures with its arms but they meant nothing to Swan.
On one wrist was a tumor that sparkled like little stars. The creature touched the tumor and it flashed and twinkled.
The creature put its hand into its stomach and brought out a thing like nothing Swan had ever seen before. When it reached out to hand the thing to Swan, he became frightened and retreated even closer to the edge of the cliff. After a few moments the creature withdrew the thing and removed its skin, dropping it to the ground. Then he ate the object that lay within the skin. It looked to Swan like animal droppings.
Still terrified, Swan began to consider his options. Fighting the creature without his spear seemed hopeless; no stones of any size lay within his reach. Terrified, Swan looked to the edge of the cliff. A jump from this height would be fatal. He reconsidered his option to jump and looked again at the cliff. Then in a whisper from within came “I love you Swan. Run.”
As the creature raised its hand to its face, Swan dashed for the only exit he could see but not without first scooping up the skin that the creature had thrown to the ground.
He ran as fast as he dared on the narrow ledge leading from the shelf down to the base. It quickly became dangerously narrow even for walking. Swan slowed to look back over his shoulder. The creature was trying to follow but it was obvious that it would not be able to catch Swan.
Swan picked his way down the face of the cliff and upon reaching the base broke into an all out desperate dash for the village. He did not stop running until he arrived at the center of the village. As people gathered and his father emerged from his hut, they could see that Swan was terrified and exhausted. His grandfather joined the group.
Swan crouched with his hands on his knees, gasping for air.
When he was finally able to speak, he uttered nonsense. His father did his best to calm the boy and to try to communicate with him.
Swan spoke of a huge creature without wings that had dropped from the sky. “It was ugly beyond any animal on the plain. It was larger then the biggest Kimbra and looked like a fish with one giant eye the size of its head. It took food from its stomach and ate it.”
Swan remembered how careless he had been with his spear. Could he hide the truth from his father? He tried to concentrate on further describing the creature.
His father interrupted “You should never have laid down your spear. Why did you not heed my warning?”
Swan winced. As always his father had looked into his soul, seeming aware of everything. He could hide nothing; the truth was always there.
“Truth is eternal” his father had told him. “Deceiving or concealing is not the way with our people.” After all it was nearly impossible. For untold generations communicating without words had been central to their survival as a people. Each individual was inexorably linked to the community and some, like his father, would seem at times to see beyond what was visible to all. Soon his father relented and Swan continued.
Though Swan repeated the description of his encounter, some of those present already knew many of the details before Swan had even returned to the village. They needed to hear the details from Swan to fully understand the images that they had received in their minds.
“I thought I was safe from attack. So I laid down my spear. I'm truly sorry father. I should have taken your advice more seriously.”
His father set aside further reprimand by asking about the creature’s defenses. “Did the creature have his spear?”
Swan's face went blank as he struggled to remember.
“No. He had no spear. He had no claws. His teeth were small and dull and he couldn't move swiftly; I easily outran him.”
“How could he have survived?” his father asked.
“Well, he did take food from his stomach and ate it.”
“That is not like any of the other animals on the plain.” His father tried to reconcile the image in his head. “If the eye was the size of his head where was his mouth?”
“Oh, when he had moved his eye to the top of his head, inside his head is where his mouth was. Inside I could see that he had a face something like ours but very ugly. His lips were thin, his nose protruded and was narrow; his other eyes were like those of a large fish. His skin was the color of the bottom of a frog and the hair inside and under his nose was the color of dry grass.”
After describing the creature, Swan hesitated as he was met with widening eyes. Several of the people drew their hands up to quickly cover their mouths, as if Swan had spoken the unspeakable.
Swan's father gazed intently at his son. “Boy, do you have any evidence of this encounter that we may know that it wasn't just a dream.”
Swan thought for a moment and then as a smile crept across his face, he raised his hand and revealed the skin that he had scooped up for just such a moment. “This is the skin from the food that he offered me and then ate himself.”
In awe several people leaned forward to get a better look. “What did he take out of the skin?” one of them asked.
“It looked like a Kimbra dropping. I wasn't eager to touch it.” Swan replied.
“My son, by your description of the creature you encountered, I believe you have witnessed a great thing
. You may be the blessed one that has witnessed the return of Rutana. His time may have come for our good.”
A breath of air had swept the skin from Swan's hand, and it gently floated to the ground. There it lay unnoticed for the moment. The inscription “Don't be a Litterbug” was printed on the shiny foil wrapper.
* * * * *
Chapter 1 – Alpha Test
Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.
Albert Einstein