Archeological Exploration
Peering within the dusky entrance, Simon felt exultation swell his chest. Long had been the road to gain this cave entrance, but he knew now it had been worth it- a cave deep in an isolated part of southern France, incredibly ancient, and undiscovered! As a researcher of all things archaic, this classicist was as excited by the discovery as a typical man would be by finding a chest of glinting gold coins and precious gems of shimmering colors.
All alone he had gone on his quest, led on by reading obscure ancient texts, many banned by church and state alike, in arcane and ancient tongues. The only son of a wealthy family, he had used up most of his treasure in pursuit of his historical pursuits; namely pursuing ancient artifacts, an all-absorbing study of the learning of the European ancient world, and a tireless seeking of all things old.
While all those about him of his young age were absorbed in the here-and-now, amusing themselves with the latest electronic gadgets and devices, and totally committed to finding ways to make as much money as possible, as fast as possible, and with the least work involved as possible- Simon Stanton had spent most of what he had to discover as much as he could about the past. And this cave was the portal to something far more ancient than anything he, or anyone else in the modern world, could have ever imagined.
Squeezing his muscled upper torso through the gap he had dug in the hillside, Simon trained his flashlight within. A long, totally black tunnel stretched before him, narrow and yet smooth on all sides, as if painstakingly chiseled out of hard, dark rock. The walls of that tunnel were so smooth as to appear almost polished, and in his excitement and total amaze he pushed himself all the way within- and began sliding! Slow at first, but quickly picking up speed, he plunged down along the slick rock chute, completely and totally unable to control his rapid descent.
He retained his grasp of the flashlight, but that was all, as he shot quickly down, deeper and deeper into the ancient earth. He thought ruefully of his pack left behind, of his gear, cell phone, and charts; everything really that had guided him on this great quest, this adventure that was going out of control despite his careful preparations. The bright blaze from his electric torch reflected wildly as he plunged with ever greater speed, showing an obsidian black all about, only the bright sheen of the reflections temporarily blinding him as they shot back into his bright blue eyes.
He strained to slow his downward spiral, planting his rubber-soled shoes against the rock, to no avail. Briefly, he wondered at the skill required to engineer such a smooth path of stone, and knew that his original supposition had been right- this ancient cave, of undeniable Neanderthal origin, given its age, showed the intelligence of this once denigrated ancestor of modern humans- but, with that thought, suddenly he was launched into the air, deep within the earth! He steeled his muscles as he hurtled through the deep, subterranean vault, as his torch illuminated all at once not only a huge hall, but statues of vague, anthropomorphic shapes lining gargantuan walls of not just black, but green, azure, and crimson colors! Amazed, he still tensed himself manfully against the fall, curling himself into a knot of muscle, knowing his life depended upon it.
Simon struck hard, as he knew he would, striking the rock floor that broke his fall while tensed into a muscular ball, his head bunched against his chest, his strong arms and legs all curled together. The impact would have killed a lesser man, but Simon Stanton, despite being a cloistered scholar, was also very much a physical culturist. He spent as much time improving his body as he did his mind, following the advice of the ancient Greeks to have a ‘strong body in a strong mind.’ The erudite professors with whom he communicated via computer and the mail would have been astounded to see the massively well-built man that they assumed was a spindle-shanked scholar such as themselves, the type that hunched over books and screens, and never gave a thought to their physical bodies.
Slowly rising from the rock floor of the large cavern he had shot into, Simon was lacerated and felt as if shot from a cannon- but his limbs worked, and he was alive. He stood, gazing out upon a scene that momentarily made him doubt his very survival. For what he saw was a vast, colorful cavern; a great Hall that looked engineered, with columns supporting the massive weight of the arched roof, and shadowy, gigantic forms- huge statues, that stood along the walls. And all was lit with a light that emanated from within large crystals set in the walls; yellowish multi-faceted gems of a sort that glowed with a golden light. Standing there, Simon was an image of primordial man, unconquered, looking out upon a mystic hall of the gods, gigantic and awful, that gazed down upon him with strange faces of perfection.
For Simon knew, from his many and arduous studies, that what he saw now vindicated his long suspected theory- that the ancients, those that modern men called ‘Neanderthals’, were not of a sub-human, ape-like people; no, rather they were quite the opposite. For what he saw ranged about him, the statues that ringed this vast hall into which he had plunged, were the statues of gods, of beings that, although undeniably human in aspect, were in reality more than human. It was as if the pantheon of the Greek gods had been carved into gigantic statues- there was Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, lithe, deadly and agile. And over there- Apollo, with more than human beauty and holding a lyre and a bow- ready to sing a song using the one, and a more deadly sort of tune with the other! And so it went, as Simon paced about that huge hall, he saw statues carved with more than human skill, depicting the ancient gods and goddesses with a realism that was fantastic.
This was beyond what he had hoped to discover. Simon knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt from his laborious research and endless studies, that the ancient ones, the so-called Neanderthals, were not lowly pre-humans, slaughtered by the invaders from Africa and replaced by them as homo-sapiens. No, he knew that their brain capacity far exceeded our own of the present, and he knew their suggested simian features were far from the truth- but this! He continued pacing the hall, which had gained the aspect of being a museum, a repository of ancient truths and wisdom. He was eager to explore it all.
It was like a dream, exploring a hall of such antiquity. He knew that the age of this subterranean vault was far more ancient than any of the current scholars would believe, hundreds of thousands of years was his considered opinion. He knew his spindle-shanked colleagues would gasp with incredulity, but he also knew he was right. He knew too that the skill to create such a subterranean hall, and imbue it with a strange light over the eons, was far beyond what modern man was capable of, even now in the age of computers and nuclear weapons. Simon walked like a man in a fantastical dream, looking at the very mythical gods that he had read of and revered in his youth as the avatars of the perfect men and women of mythology. And here they were, depicted realistically in stone!
Eerily, it was similar to the ancient cave paintings he had seen before in the south of France and Spain, and in Croatia- those paintings had been of animals, aurochs and many extinct species of mammals- and they had seemed to move, to be given life, in the light of torches within the darkness of those caves. And that was wonderful, and impressive beyond belief… But THIS! These huge statues appeared to live, and the light that leant them this aspect of life was engineered by these same folk to illuminate this hall. The implications made his mind reel.
He saw the entire pantheon of the ancient Greek gods, from Neptune, to Pluto, to mighty Zeus himself! All were huge, and yet somehow true to life, as if modeled on actual men and women who had strode the earth long since. And all were of awful antiquity beyond the ken of men! He paced on, and on…
And he saw figures, carved like the others, and yet unrecognizable to the scholar within Simon Stanton. There were statues with the heads of cats, and the bodies of women. One had the evil aspect of a baboon, and four legs like a goat. Some were like lionesses, and others like spiders. But the most hideous was the serpent god, with glowing red eyes like those of an evil madwoman.
Quickly turning around, Simon raced back to the main hall, within which were the main gods of the Hellenic pantheon. They seemed like familiar friends to him, as he sat at the foot of Zeus. The yellowish-golden light suffused him here, as if he were in a dream. He wondered what to do now- his pack was outside, he had no means of communication; in fact all he had of the outside, modern world was a flashlight! He was exhausted, having spent months finding the entrance to this cavern, and his head spun, knowing that not only did no one know where he was, but that what he should do next was hard to fathom, since he had no food, water, or anything else.
He was a man of action, of thought and purpose- but, for the moment, despite his momentous discovery- he had no idea what to do next. So, as a practical man, he decided to rest, and gain new purpose, by going to sleep.
As he slept, he dreamed. However, instead of dreaming of his fantastic present, in a huge subterranean cavern deep within the earth, his consciousness instead was unexpectedly diverted outward: to the modern world which he had tried for so long to ignore. To the decadent world of modernity, where Western Civilization itself was under attack, from corrupt politicians, a deluded, ignorant populace, and from a
self- styled global elite.
As these liberal elitists posed and pandered to racial minorities for their own gain, sacrificing the very western democracies they were entrusted to preserve and guide, civil discord was running rampant. Crime, especially black crime in the inner cities, was out of control, and the very police were not allowed to keep law and order because it ‘wasn’t fair’, since the vast majority of criminals were of minority races.
Even the universities, the supposed centers of learning and culture, which had come to mean the secular temples of Western Civilization itself, were now run by liberal apologists, post modernists of a recent tradition that had utterly abandoned all of the laborious long upward climb of rational thought, replacing it with leftism, and white guilt at all of their forebears great accomplishments. It was not enough for other cultures and races to have equality- no, it must be equality of outcome- what you earn by risk and toil is mine by right- as much as he who earns it!
And in a final paroxysm of insanity, the Left, those ‘useful idiots’, used by the Marxists and Socialists as unwitting tools in the very destruction of their own advanced civilizations, were advocating to eliminate the borders between nations themselves, which could only succeed in making those civilizations of the west into Third World cesspools, as they were invaded and overrun!
All of this Simon saw in his nightmarish dream, although it was not really a dream, since he knew in his conscious mind all of this was already happening. But, in the dream, which he realized was being given to him by the great statues of the ancient gods that were all about his prone form- he now saw the future revealed as well. Along with the collapse of the great European founded civilizations around the world- the U.S., Canada, Germany, England, France, and the rest- he sensed another menace, heretofore undreamt of: a disease. A disease that had struck before, that many thousands of years ago had forced the Neanderthal people underground for eons to gain the very survival of their race.
The statue of Zeus spoke to him then, only- it was not a statue- no, it was the living, breathing, magnificent god Zeus himself, his long white beard moving as he spoke to him. “My son, although only a small part of you is of my race- those you call Neanderthals- still, that perhaps 20% of you is what sets you apart from all other races on the earth. You whites, you they call the Europeans, have our blood and intellectual ability within you. Even the Asians, in the far east- they have a smaller portion of our DNA, but yet they too are part of our blood and destiny. Only the blacks, the homo-sapiens-sapiens are of an all African past, except for what little has been mixed into them by your own folk in the modern world.”
Simon’s dreaming mind reeled, since he knew that genetic testing had revealed the truth of the god’s words, although only recently. It explained so much, and yet in the modern world of political correctness, most of it could not be spoken of without harsh and violent censure. Zeus spoke again: “We are the Cycladian people, those you term Neanderthals- and vastly more ancient than any others. Atlantis was the last continent we ruled, and it did not sink as the legends say- we simply left it and went underground to save ourselves.” He looked deeply into Simon’s eyes, and spoke in his rich, resonant voice again. “We were escaping disease- a deadly, genetic disease- something that only effects our race, and only in a short period that occurs once a millennium or even less frequently. There is no cure, only to sequester ourselves underground can we save ourselves, and so we have done, over and over, throughout history. It comes with changes within the sun itself, and only by avoiding it during these intense fazes of the sun can we save ourselves- otherwise, the rays alter our DNA, the very strands of life itself within us, regressing us within a generation or two into brutish creatures of lesser intellect and brutish aspect. These regressions of us are the crude skeletons of our people you have in your museums, those who did not escape, and…regressed.” The god sank his head upon his mighty breast in a mute expression of sadness. Then, he roused himself.
“But they are not us!” he said, and gestured about the great hall. The magnificent statues, the representatives of the ideal human forms, both male and female, surrounded them both. And as Simon gazed upon them, he felt himself gradually waken. The statue of Zeus was behind him, huge and awful, but before him, at the normal size of a tall man, stood a well-built man with a similar white beard, albeit trimmed close. He smiled, and reached out a tanned, strong hand to help Simon to rise.
“Welcome to Cycladia,” he said. His voice was deep and resonant, the voice of a born leader. His gray eyes shone with vitality and wisdom, he really did resemble the huge statue of Zeus next to him. He smiled, and spoke again. “Nay, I am not him,” indicating the statue with an inclination of his head, “but I’m sure we are related. We all are…” And as he said those words, a stream of people came striding within the hall, comely folk all, men and women. They wore simple shifts and tunics, and some had gold or silver bands about their brows, and they were smiling, as if meeting a long-lost relative at a reunion.
“Welcome!” each one said, one after another. Simon’s head was reeling, in sheer shock, but he had a wonderful feeling within- a feeling that somehow he had come home.
The Cycladians
Simon found that this huge cavern was but one of many that existed within the earth. The Cycladians, who were altogether an admirable and wonderful race of people, were like a whole nation of mental giants. Simon knew his own IQ was quite high, but he sensed that all of these folk were at least as, if not more so, as intelligent as himself. Yet, they seemed to be utterly without pride, since they knew that their fellows were their equal, and they expected other humans to be so as well. But, they knew such had not always been the case, as Simon was to learn later in his stay with them. For it would be a long while until he would be able to leave these underground lands of the Cycladians!
The man with the trimmed white beard and wise gray eyes was Ja, and he took it upon himself to show Simon around, and to patiently teach him the ways of the Cycladians. “For you are of our blood, Simon,” he said, “and to not care for others of the blood, of the race, is to deny the great God himself.” For the Cycladians knew of the Great and Only Christian and Hebrew God, and only represented him themselves as minor deities, ambassadors as it were, to lead the way. Ja went on to explain, patiently and completely, how the Cycladian race had become self-appointed guardians and guiders of the human race, for eons. Although they had banished themselves of necessity to the underground lands they had created, still they ventured forth to observe, and to help the inferior members of the human race to survive and to thrive as best they might.
It was the Cycladians, obviously, who had set themselves up as the Olympian immortals, thereby sparking the most magnificent flowering of early Western civilization in Greece, and afterwards in Rome, that the world had ever seen! They were the literal manifestations that inspired a whole mythology that inspired so much. For the Cycladians could go to the earth, even as the insidious rays of the traitorous sun went through the cycle of destruction of their kind- just so long as the visit was brief- they were unharmed. But if they went beyond the allotted time…
The early gods of the Sumerians, the Mesopotamians, and the Egyptians had been examples of what happened when a Cycladian overstayed, and became contaminated by the rays of the cycling sunspots and radiation of certain times. From being like a god, similar to those of the ancient Greeks, a Cycladian could start to regress- and actually to become less than human! This explained the giant serpent god Set of Egypt, the horrid scorpion deities of Sumer, and countless other awful creatures that were originally meant to be guides- real ancient gods and goddesses to lead early peoples to the light of reason and the good. The sunspot activities of the sun could trigger horrid DNA changes within the Cycladians, morphing them from creatures of light and hope into monsters. Their fair skin is what made them particularly susceptible.
But to figure all of this out, even for those of such incredible intellect as the Cycladians, took long, long periods of time. Many awful mistakes occurred, but overall humanity was thrust forward by their efforts, bit by bit. And they learned that they were best off, over time, by staying hidden away from the rays of the treacherous sun, and simply observing humanity as it made its many mistakes, and only intervening sparingly.
Simon learned all of this over time. For, as he was told, it was necessary for him to remain among the Cycladian people, since events in the outside world from which he had come were, as they had been many times throughout history- in chaos! The world was once again in crisis, as it had been in several other eras: the ice age was one, and this was one where the Cycladians had thrived, being the group that had brought humanity through, teaching them the hunting of the great mammoths and the aurochs, and finally the tilling of the soil. The sun spots had been at low ebb then, leaving them free to innovate and thrive!
And then, with Sumeria and the Egyptians: they had taught and led the people to civilization, but then, just before fruition of their teachings, the increasing sun activity had turned these god-like teachers and gods, at least those who remained above ground- into repellent sub-human, snake gods and other animal atrocities masquerading as gods… Thus these societies had fallen into the chaos of evil, and their civilizations had become despotic and without the light of reason.
Later, the Cycladians had emerged again to lead the northern European folk as another pantheon- that of Odin, Thor, and the other gods of the Norse! Just as they had led the white races of the Middle East in earlier times, they personified the ethics of valor, love, tribal community and the arts. It was as if the Greek pantheon had been reborn, which in many ways it had. And they had retreated back beneath the earth before any damage had been done to their god-like selves, and to the northern European culture that they had nurtured.
It took time for the Cycladians to be able to predict when they would be degraded by the activity of the sun. And it was more art than science, or else they would have perfected it early on- the people of the Cycladians were marvelous scientists, never equaled in intellect- but in their endless endeavor to help, they sometimes were caught up in harming. And they knew it, suffering greatly in the knowledge- for, if you are consumed with helping- what could be worse than ultimately doing great harm??
And wouldn’t this be the ultimate curse of this wonderful, intellectual, and loving people- that the very impulse that made them feel compelled to help- had occasionally forced them to harm the very humanity that they are sworn to guide, love, and protect? Simon was to hear more about this in his subterranean exile.
And so, this was the beginning of a long sojourn within the underground kingdom of the Cycladians for Simon Stanton. It was otherworldly, in many ways- Simon was used to a regimented existence, as a professor of archeology at a Christian University in Orange City, Iowa, he was used to a strict class schedule. But, since it was in the summer months, he knew he would not be missed in class, although he did teach physical culture to many of the students, both men and women, and he regretted not being there for them that summer.
Ja gave him an extensive tour of the underground lands of his people, which was fascinating. Vast halls and subterranean vaults had been dug and established deep within the earth, and it really approximated the size of a small country or state- say, of Switzerland or Wisconsin. The population was of universally fair skinned, light-eyed folk, with blonde, reddish, and light brown hair. Gazing at them, Simon thought that it was as if the ancient populace of the Hellenes had been reborn, but yet in an almost perfect form. It was as if the athleticism of archaic Sparta had been wed to the arts and intellect of Athens- such was the caliber of this Cycladian people!
The yellowish crystals that dotted the walls and ceilings of the underground vaults gave off a wholesome, vitamin D rich light, which his guide Ja assured him was every bit like the sun’s rays, but without their intermittent vagaries that caused the mutations that plagued his fair- skinned race. And Simon knew this was true, as his own fair skin bronzed as he dwelt in those underground lands. He thrived there, as well, seeming to bloom in health as never before.
And he did not neglect his daily training, even far beneath the earth as he was! No, Simon had trained rigorously every day of his life since his teens, and though middle-aged now, he was, if anything, even more committed to enhancing and optimizing his physique. And he found plenty of company amongst the Cycladians in his fitness pursuits.
He got into a pattern, a daily rhythm of life, that matched up similarly with his normal life back in Orange City. He would do mobility exercises upon waking, and then leave the small apartment he had been granted of a bed and a small bath facility, and go down to the communal room below. Other Cycladians would be there, and all would be doing simple exercises, consisting of stretching, and strengthening movements. Apparatus was minimal, as the resistance was either self-resisted, calisthenics, or isometric. The physiques of those, even the elderly in these morning exercise common areas, was amazing!
Simon wondered at the lack of fat or otherwise unfit people, or those with sicknesses. Ja assured him that sickness was indeed very rare there, as they had learned to treat their own, naturally raised foods as medicine. They had extensive subterranean farmland, and cattle grazed contentedly in dappled forests, with lush grasslands and fields of vegetables. Fruit trees and berry bushes were cultivated assiduously, and their productivity was amazing. All cooked their own food, on the smallholding farms and ranches that each family owned independently. There were no wards of the state! Those who were dying or in any sort of extreme were cared for by the members of their own small church, of which there were thousands of small ones scattered across the underground countryside.
There was a woman, name of Isis, who Simon spent time with, as she was the niece of Ja. Isis was in her early 20’s, Simon reckoned, and had hair that almost exactly matched his own russet mixed with golden locks. Simon wore his rather long, tousled back with careless, sinewy fingers as he exerted himself; but hers was a magnificent mane of auburn, flecked with golden strands. As she ran beside him, her bronzed skin shining with moisture, they were like two thoroughbreds enjoying their physical prowess.
All of the Cycladians, just as did Simon himself, had studies that particularly infatuated them, and Isis was no exception. Besides that of physical culture, which she shared with Simon along with the vast majority of the Cycladians, she was fascinated both with ancient culture, and with the studying of the recent, modern decadent perversions that were taking over the world! Both of them were filled with revulsion towards it all, and were determined to eradicate it.
But many of the Cycladian folk had completely given up caring about the modern world, seeing that it was spinning out of control; and had the opinion that the Cycladians should just have their own underground world, and write off all of this nightmare happening above-ground, since it was hopeless at this point. Ja, Isis, Simon, and many others strongly disagreed.
One day, Simon, Ja, and Isis were walking barefoot through one of the many lush, underground forests in the subterranean kingdom. The artificial sunlight from the multi-faceted gems was blazing forth upon them as they went, only shaded partially by the luxuriant foliage of the trees. “What is the state of the above-ground world now, Ja?” asked Simon. He really asked only out of habit, since he had become so attuned to the wonderful, satisfying Cycladian life that he actually rarely thought lately about the outside world.
Isis answered before Ja could open his mouth. “It has reached a crisis,” she said abruptly, obviously agitated. “Whites are the victims of genocide now in South Africa- a land that they built out of nothing in the 1600’s- and now, they are having their property stolen, and their lives are forfeit, while they have given those blacks everything that they have.”
Ja looked grim and angry, but simply nodded as they walked.
“And what’s more,” said Isis, her beautiful face twisted in anger, “they are now, under the aegis of the European Union, taking Muslims and Africans, for God’s sake, and moving them en masse into Europe! The globalist leaders have decided- against the will of the people!!” Tears started out upon her face, tears of sympathy for those kinsmen and women of her race that were being so defiled and degraded against their will.
Simon was aghast- how long had he been underneath the earth, and how far removed was he from the horrid reality of current events? He stopped his walking, looking to Ja, who also stopped. The three of them stood, standing like archetypes from a far earlier, simpler, and primeval age, when their race was young and unchallenged by any other. The artificial sunshine dappled their shoulders and limbs, setting off their definition and vitality.
Ja spoke then, carefully, in his deep, resonant voice. “I apologize, Simon. I have intentionally kept news of the above world away from you. Although we are incredibly concerned about these horrible events, we have been waiting for the proper time to intervene. Quite frankly, this may be the most severe crisis of the modern age- the wholesale replacement of our own, Cycladian race by an immigrant peoples- but, there is more!”
Simon and Isis both looked at him incredulously. What could be worse than what had just been said?
Ja looked at them both, and his gray eyes were full of sadness. “This is the worst time in our history.” Tears filled his eyes, eyes of wisdom that were not prone to emotion, not at all. “The sunspot activity has reached its apex- I am afraid that this is the end of the white race!”
End of the White Race
Beckoning to Simon and Isis, Ja waved them towards a room in the back of the research area. Concerned, Simon walked within- inside was a large chart. It was obviously the testing area of a scientist, with technical equipment that even Simon, well acquainted with such endeavors, was hard-put to identify. The chart was filled with complex figures.
“What does this mean?” asked Simon, pointing with strong fingers in the direction of the chart before him.
There was a scientist sitting there, with white hair similar to that of Ja’s; a man of older years, a man of wisdom obviously. He hesitated, before flicking a lever. The chart and the figures upon it sprang into vivid relief. “These figures show that the sunspot activity has reached an apex.” The older man speaking looked at them intently, his close-cropped white hair belying the lithe athleticism of his physique.
“But, what does that mean?” asked Isis, her pale blue eyes pleading and worried.
“It means the oblivion of the white race, those of European descent above upon the earth. This means all of the white Europeans within the world, including North America, Europe itself, and even South Africa, South America, and Australia- anywhere white people live- they are doomed! Their Cycladian/Neanderthal DNA has doomed them- the radiation and sunspot activity have targeted them for extinction!”
The three, along with the scientist, stood stock still, absorbing this unsettling information. Then the white-haired Ja spoke. “Who are you, and why should we believe you, giving us this awful news?”
The close-cropped scholar spoke, with a slight smile upon his thin lips. “I am Jafiro, the ultimate scholar among the Cycladians. Often are my opinions challenged, and my research hopefully denied- but always- always I am ultimately proven correct!” With this, Jafiro pounded his thin fist upon the desk, and looked at Ja with defiance glinting from his gray-blue eyes. “I know whereof I speak- the white race is doomed. Already they were destined to be destroyed, simply because of their greater intellect- a higher intellect is always suspect by the lesser races, their ability is seen as witchcraft and thus an unfair advantage. But, this is beyond that obvious simple envy of inferiors: biology has determined that those of our blood should be destroyed!”
Isis stepped forward, her taut body tensed in anger. “But why us? Why the Cycladians only?”
Jafiro looked at her appreciatively; although an ancient scholar, her beauty moved him. His smile was slight, yet heartfelt. “Any person with our blood and accompanying DNA that lives upon the surface of the earth itself is doomed. Of course, we here below in the land of the Cycladians are protected, as always, since we know of the perils of the sun.” Here, Jafiro allowed himself another slight, tight, smug smile. “But, of those above- well, not only will all White people, those of European ancestry- in other words those descended from ourselves be doomed to imminent death- “ here he rolled his eyes again, as if it was all too obvious- “But so too will anyone with our ancestry within his bloodline.” He paused, looking down at his computer again, as if our audience was ended.
Simon spoke up then, curious about all the implications, as a fellow scholar would be. “So- only Whites will die?” Simon was genuinely curious, and already thinking about how people might possibly be saved, and how to mitigate this upcoming disaster.
“No, not at all.” replied Jafiro, revealing the bloodless scientist that he was. “It’s interesting, really”- he pointed to the chart before him with a thin, yet sinewy finger. “Asians too have Cycladian blood; it is less than Europeans, but still, enough- the Whites will die first, and then eventually the Asians will as well! It is the most extreme sunspot activity of all time- it will be fascinating to watch!” He smiled widely, and focussed again on his charts.
“But why would this happen?” interjected Isis yet again. “Why only us??”
Once again, Jafiro gave a small smile, and began speaking slowly and distinctly, as if in one of his classrooms. “Long ago, during the endless ice ages, our pale skin was a major advantage. It enabled us to survive that waning period of the sun, gave us the ability to synthesize ample vitamin D to thrive, and so our race survived; nay- thrived through that incredible adversity of endless cold and ice. We hunted the mammoth, we learned to build shelter, and we above all learned to live in peace and amity, with cooperation. And our intellects had the opportunity to grow and thrive!” He smiled a rare smile then, his white teeth gleaming in his ancestor appreciation. But then, he concluded glumly: “But in this era- it is a huge liability! At least- for a while…” Then he resumed studying the documents upon his desk.
Ja, Simon, and Isis looked at one another in horror! The end of both the white, European- and the Asian race!! Billions of people, to be wiped out!
“But when, Jafiro- when- how much time do we have??”
Jafiro ran his fingers back through his close-cropped, white hair. He looked back at them, those standing tense-faced behind him, alert and ready for action. He smiled slightly, and shook his head with a vague contempt at the futility of the strivings of mankind. He looked again at his computer, and then back at the chart above. “Perhaps a week,” he said. Then, he focused all of his attention back on his computer and the chart above.
“Maybe two.”
Simon was aghast- the end of the white race? Ja looked at him sadly, as did Isis, who placed her hand upon his arm comfortingly. Ja spoke then: “Simon, I know it is hard for you, but really, think on it. The white race has been vilified for a long, long time. Ever since that tiny minority of white people came down from the Caucasus in the north, conquering as they went, using their superior metal weapons to carve out kingdoms in Sumeria to the east, to Mesopotamia, and then the Greeks in the area of the Mediterranean- taking the land from smaller, dark people as they went- the Whites were the group to hate! Simply because of their endless successes…
Because they had left the warm, stifling, and yet undemanding world of Africa early on, choosing hardship and planning; endless planning and striving in preference to stagnation in the heat and dry land of the tropical south- they slowly began a long, laborious climb upwards. Upwards in increasing intellect, in learning to forestall immediate gratification for a better future, (in order to survive one bitterly cold winter after another), they grew in their abilities.
While their brethren in the hot, relatively barren lands of Africa lay about in the stifling heat, existing at a low level with few demands, those who had left for northern climes learned, and so too did their children, to develop their intellects to survive. Evolution stepped in over time, adapting these northerners increasing intelligence, since that is what worked there in Europe. And so, survive and thrive they did indeed; for, as it is said- what does not kill us makes us stronger! Sadly, many, many died, as they forged ever further north to expand their territories, and gain land to hunt upon.
And these early deserters of Africa- what were they becoming? They were becoming planners, survivalists; a peoples who could cope with harsh climates and environments. And then- they met US!”
At this point, Ja gave a wide smile, as he felt he had reached the kernel of his story. “They met, and bred with the Cycladians- the Neanderthal as we were later termed.” He looked at Simon, and at Isis, even though she already knew the story. “They upgraded!”
“You mean that the homo sapiens who left Africa, interbred with the Cycladians?” asked Simon. Although he had suspected as much, it was in the field of current research highly suspect.
Ja laughed, long and hard, and Isis did as well. “Of course! How else would you explain your own fair, reddish hair, blue eyes, and light skin? Your straight nose and hair? And above all- your intellect??”
Simon paused then. He had read in his research about the larger cranial capacity of the ancient Neanderthal often enough, and also the larger brain size of the Cro-Magnon, who was the earliest progenitor of the modern Europeans… Wait- was the Cro-Magnon, that taller and more intelligent early invader of Europe, really a mix of Neanderthal and Homo sapien?
It was as if Ja and Isis had read his mind. This was old knowledge to them, every Cycladian schoolchild knew of this mixing, as they knew of all of the history, both ancient and modern, of mankind in general- and the European and white race in particular. They enjoyed watching him piece this knowledge together, much as an adult enjoys watching a toddler learn obvious facts about the world, or the alphabet.
“So I- and all white Europeans- are part Cycladian?” Simon asked.
Ja and Isis looked at one another, and laughed. “Isn’t it obvious, Simon?” asked Isis, wrinkling up her pretty face into a querying smile? “Especially to a scholar such as yourself?”
Simon thought briefly, and was surprised he had never seen the obviousness of the connection. “You know,” he said. “You Cycladians could never exist in the modern world, even if you could withstand the sunspot activity- you are just too Politically Incorrect! It just doesn’t fit the current narrative that you should even exist, when all race itself is a social construct- and racial differences cannot exist, since we are all the same!”
The ridiculousness of what Simon had just proclaimed overcame the three of them all at once, and they laughed loudly together in unison. The utter relief of revealing a long-suppressed, yet obvious truth to the light of day was overwhelming!
Ja continued with his narrative, after their laughter had subsided. “The continuation of White success, or Cycladian/European success, went on unabated for millenniums. From the development of agriculture, to the husbandry of animals, it was all us. The advances in metallurgy, from stone to copper, then bronze, finally iron and steel- that was all us, along with the huge advances in human knowledge about the planet itself- philosophy and reason- only the intellect you gained from us made that possible.”
Simon thought for a bit, and then asked “But what about the Asians? They are a very intelligent race, and organized in some ways beyond the Europeans…” It was confusing, this third rail in the racial narrative.
Ja smiled, as did Isis, since she had learned all of this as a young schoolchild. She spoke: “There was yet another race, Simon, that was living in the north when your ancestors began their exodus from Africa. A different people altogether. Very little is known of them, even by us, since they lived far away from the cold of Europe, and evolved separately in oriental regions of Asia, long ago. From what little we know of them, we can tell primarily from what we observe in modern Asian peoples. They were called Denisovans, and seem to have been an intelligent people, very organized and hierarchical.”
Ja spoke up here. “I have a special interest in these folk, since they are an object of my current studies. After your ancestors bred with us, the Cycladians, thereby enhancing your intellect greatly, the hybrid peoples of that union branched off, at least a large portion did, and headed east. Long were those pioneers parted from us, but when they went to the east they encountered the Denisovans, much as you encountered us here.”
He paused, looking intently at Isis and Simon, before continuing. “The Denisovans were intelligent, like the Cycladians, there is no doubt of that. But while the Cycladians and then the Cro-magnon hybrid folk were more rural and free ranging sorts, independent and tribal, distrusting of large conglomerations of people- the Denisovans were completely family, tribe, and ultimately state oriented. Even in the ancient past, they had developed huge cities, living in strict accordance with endless rules and codes of conduct. They dwelled in cliffs and towns, each shelter right next to the other, jammed together- for that is their way. The Cro-Magnons met them, and were totally absorbed by them, since the numbers of these Denisovans were so huge in magnitude compared to the few tribes of our people that had ventured east- hundreds married into a peoples of thousands, and then millions!”
“So organized were these folk, even more so after absorbing the intellect inherent in the Cro-Magnon through our genes, that they became downright hive like. At least, from our more free-wheeling, independent point of view. They bred with these yellowish, smaller Denisovan people, and became like them. But- they in some manner did increase their intelligence; but in this case it was in the form of a fascination with numbers, with rules, and with the group! While we are largely self-determined, they are all about the group- like, well- like a hive of bees! Insect-like, is how I picture them- hierarchical, highly organized, and yet the individual doesn’t really matter- only the group itself!”
Simon paused for a bit, absorbing all of this information. But then, he looked upwards into Ja’s wise, gray eyes. “It all makes sense, in fact it makes all of my studies over the years fall into place. But- these Asians, they also have a portion of Cycladian blood-and their DNA, which is susceptible to the vagaries of the sunspots. Why are they not effected too?”
Isis looked to Ja, and then back to Simon, nodding approvingly. “You definitely have more Cycladian blood than the average European, Simon.” said Isis. Obviously, to her this was the highest praise, and she looked at him with more than just fondness.
Ja spoke up. “I have a theory on that, and only time will tell if it’s true. I believe that the amount of our DNA determines the degradation of the carrier. Asians are perhaps half, or even less than that that you carry. My belief is that they haven’t been effected very much yet, but as this era of the sun continues, they will also feel the effects. And, just as your Cro-Magnon Europeans are unaffected overall as of yet, soon they will be! And, after them, the Asians.”
Simon must have looked uncomfortable, since Isis grasped his arm and stroked it. “Don’t worry Simon,” she said. “You are safe here, beneath the ground with us, your people.”
“But what about those above?” he asked.
Ja looked at him sternly. “They are already doomed, even without this plague of the sun! Don’t you see that?”
This concludes the first THREE chapters of the book Last of the Whites by Jess Thornton. Find out the rest of the story by purchasing the book, either in paperback or ebook, on Amazon.com
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