The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(93)

Kate knew the humans would learn to make fire later, but at this point in their development, they could only keep fires that had already been created by sources like lightning. And keeping the fire burning was imperative to the camp—for the protection it offered and for cooking the food that would help their brains develop.

Four males stood around the fire, feeding it, tending it, ensuring it never went out. The fire rose from a square stone pit. Large boulders ringed the towering blaze, forming a wall that kept the children from the inferno. And there were so many children, maybe even a hundred of them, scurrying about, playing, and motioning to one another.

“Their population is exploding,” her partner said. “We must do something. We have to limit the tribe’s size.”

“No.”

“Unchecked, they will—”

“We don’t know what will happen,” Kate insisted.

“We will make it worse for them—”

“I’m going to inspect the alphas,” Kate said, changing the subject. The issue of their rapid population expansion was a concern, but it didn’t have to be a problem. This world was small, but it was big enough for a much, much larger population—if they were peaceful. That would be her focus.

The chariot set down, and she stepped out. The kids around the camp stopped and stared. Many wandered toward her, but their parents rushed forward and shoved them to the ground. They fell down as well, placing their face to the ground and extending their arms.

Her partner’s voice was even more solemn. “This is very bad. They take you for a god—”

Kate ignored him. “Proceeding into the camp.”

Kate motioned for the humans to stand, but they remained face-down. She walked to the closest one, a woman, and stood her up. She helped the next person up, and then everyone was standing, rushing to her. They mobbed her as she waded past the crackling fire at the center of the camp.

She spotted the chief’s hovel instantly. It was larger and adorned with ivory tusks. Two muscled men stood guard at the entrance. They stepped aside as she approached.

Inside, an elderly man and woman sat in a corner. The alphas. They looked so old, so withered. They had never fully recovered from their near-starvation in the cave. Three males sat around a square stone platform in the center of the hut, discussing what looked like a map or some sort of drawing. They all rose. The taller male stepped toward Kate, but the elderly man stood on shaky limbs and waved him back. He bowed to Kate, then turned and pointed at the wall. A series of primitive drawings were spread out in a line. The helmet translated them:

Before the Sky God, there was only darkness. The Sky God remade man in his image and created a new world, lush and fertile for him. The Sky God brought back the sun and promised that it would shine so long as man lived in the image of God and protected his kingdom.

It was a creation myth. A surprisingly accurate one. Their minds had advanced in a great leap forward, achieving self-awareness and problem-solving abilities they had never before known. They had focused their newfound intellect on the greatest questions of all: How did we get here? What are we? Who created us? What is our purpose?

For the first time, they realized the mysteries surrounding their existence, and they groped for answers, as all emerging species do. In the absence of absolute answers, they had recorded their interpretations of what they believed had happened.

Her partner sounded nervous now. “This is extremely dangerous.”

“Maybe not—”

“They are not ready for this,” her partner declared with finality.

They were too young for mythology, but if their minds had already come this far, the religion that followed could be a powerful tool. “We can fix this. This… could save them.”

Her partner didn’t answer.

The silence weighed on Kate. It would be easier if he argued. The silence demanded she justify her claim.

“We have to end this experiment now, before we make it worse for them,” her partner said, softly now.

Kate wavered. Developing religion this early was indeed dangerous. It could be corrupted. Selfish members of the tribe could use it for their own benefit, manipulating the others. It could be used as a justification, a basis for all sorts of evil. But… used correctly, it could also be an incredibly civilizing force. A guide.

“We can help them,” Kate insisted. “We can fix this.”

“How?”

“We give them the human code. We’ll embed the lessons, the ethics, in their stories.”

“It cannot save them.”

“It has worked before.”

“It will only last so long. What happens when they stop believing? Stories won’t satisfy their minds forever.”

“We will address that problem when it arises,” Kate said.

“We can’t be here to hold their hand. We can’t solve all their problems.”

“Why can’t we? We made them. Some of us is in them now. It’s our responsibility. And it’s not like we can do anything else. We certainly can’t go home.”

Kate’s words brought only silence now. Her partner had relented. For now. She hated the disagreement, but she knew what she had to do.

She held her forearm out and tapped at the controls. The ship’s computer quickly analyzed the primitives’ symbolic language. It was crude, but the computer easily fashioned a dictionary. She held her palm out, and the light shone from it onto the stone wall. The symbols she projected lined up just below the lines the tribe had written.