Dead Planet XX
I felt the sensation of immense speed.
Darkness was again all around me—droid-deep & wet as the liquid vats that nourished me underground for a year in Tyrell’s laboratory.
My consciousness was moving fast—speeding onward faster & faster. Except things were accelerating backwards—not forwards.
I didn’t need the Predictress to help me—like she’d helped Deckard. I could delve into the past—in fact I was already there. I’d never left—the Past & I were One.
I saw Mars again—back before the Shadow Effect disappeared all the Martian inhabitants. The Martian civilization was extremely advanced in some ways—but excessively primitive in other ways. It was like the Mayans who could see into the future—inventing the Zero to do the Zeitvernichtung Effect. Inventing their two-geared clock-wheel calendar—precisely predicting the 2012 endgame.
I saw Mars again—how calm & cool & familiar it was again. Where had I been? What happened to my race? Who were these humans looking at me now? I’ve frozen time—they’re immobile for now. Colonialized by Earth—the ancient Martian pyramids had their own pilots. How easily it was to envision & actualize the future—with the help of the vast jungle pharmocopia & Lost Knowledge of the planet. I remembered now. My father—a modern patient cosmopolitan Tikal shamanic priest. Who could stop time—and see into the future. Did he see me now?
I turned the pyramid on—it hummed like a perfect toy. It was if a thousand years were just a pause—for the entertainment of a young Tikal prince.
The pyramid moved—it slid gently & silently up out of the red sands of Mars. The star patterns were familiar—I saw Venus the Flying Serpent far away down to my left. I was the new pilot now—and it was time to get down to business.
The Mayan-Martian connection. How had it been lost—what were these humans doing here on Mars. Deep in the pyramid—the gyroscopes of time tilted. I dialed open the door—and there was Deckard.
He was a strange one—and yet I wouldn’t be here without him. This melancholy bounty hunter—who suddenly had a crisis of consciousness.
His guilt over retiring so many droids—then falling in love with Rachel. He was tall & gaunt—standing there in the pilot’s cockpit chamber. Suspended in time—like the rest.
I sensed it—the inevitable cargo cult nostalgia. Deckard, Tyrell & the close group of scientists—they were the future of the race, of course. We Mayan-Martians were gone now—we phased in & out the way all civilizations do.
Tyrell and TerraCorp—the vanguard of the New Capitalism Interplanetary Dynasty. Their Japanese Warlords & POMO BP Barons—they were extending far beyond what we Mayan-Martians were able to achieve.
They were already past—the post-Gulag Asteroid Archipelago Stage. The Oort Cloud Belt beckoned to them—out past the Plutonic limits of our solar system. Out past the dimensional shield—of the Known Universe.
It was sad—but true. Our ancient Mayan-Martian technology—had reached its limits. Our R&D was different than these clever Earthmen. It was more organic—and belonged to another age. The Age of New World grown old—and then the Jungle closing in on the Ruins left behind.
My race was gone—our technology lagged behind our insights. We were good psychic-stonemasons—good at levitating limestone & granite blocks. To build our pyramids—and send them thru space. We were the ultimate stone age / space age astronauts—at least for awhile.
Our mathematical wizards—spanned time with precise predictions. Imbedding in stele & pyramids—the proper 13-month yearly clockwork compass of the solar system spheres.
Since we could levitate matter & count time so accurately—why didn’t we go the Western technology route? Steel, gunpowder, railroads, petroleum, internal combustion engines, cars, jets, space ships?
We looked down on what our artists—considered to be profane to the Mother Planet. When levitation was cleaner—and the 13-month calendar gave the right coordinates for levitating pyramids to Mars? Why fuck around—with the Cortez cortex crowd?
That’s what impressed me—I suppose the most. Although I was growing tired again—this time-space distortion I could hold in my hand only so long. Time would continue to flow backwards without me—spilling out into the universe faster than the speed of light. Creating an interval of space—around it within it thru it. This brief déjà vu flashback—which Deckard & Tyrell had created for me.
I let the pyramid—settle silently & gently back into its ancient footprint in the sands. I was more humanoid & Nexus droid now—than Martian could ever be. It would be useless—and serve no point to revive the past & old forgotten memories.
It would be inopportune of me—to impose my past on this little group of young development personnel. It would, well—be better off for all of us. To now erase my Martian memory. To forget once again—my Mayan past.
I let all of my past life go—the great pyramid ship obeyed my orders. It shuddered briefly—the control room reverted to the examination room again. Deckard opened his eyes—Tyrell woke up from his trance. The Nexus squad—looked around.
I was back once again—standing there. Next to Deckard—in the pyramid. Deckard’s better half. His kept Droidboy—his moody otherworldly companion.
I felt the sensation of immense speed.
Darkness was again all around me—droid-deep & wet as the liquid vats that nourished me underground for a year in Tyrell’s laboratory.
My consciousness was moving fast—speeding onward faster & faster. Except things were accelerating backwards—not forwards.
I didn’t need the Predictress to help me—like she’d helped Deckard. I could delve into the past—in fact I was already there. I’d never left—the Past & I were One.
I saw Mars again—back before the Shadow Effect disappeared all the Martian inhabitants. The Martian civilization was extremely advanced in some ways—but excessively primitive in other ways. It was like the Mayans who could see into the future—inventing the Zero to do the Zeitvernichtung Effect. Inventing their two-geared clock-wheel calendar—precisely predicting the 2012 endgame.
I saw Mars again—how calm & cool & familiar it was again. Where had I been? What happened to my race? Who were these humans looking at me now? I’ve frozen time—they’re immobile for now. Colonialized by Earth—the ancient Martian pyramids had their own pilots. How easily it was to envision & actualize the future—with the help of the vast jungle pharmocopia & Lost Knowledge of the planet. I remembered now. My father—a modern patient cosmopolitan Tikal shamanic priest. Who could stop time—and see into the future. Did he see me now?
I turned the pyramid on—it hummed like a perfect toy. It was if a thousand years were just a pause—for the entertainment of a young Tikal prince.
The pyramid moved—it slid gently & silently up out of the red sands of Mars. The star patterns were familiar—I saw Venus the Flying Serpent far away down to my left. I was the new pilot now—and it was time to get down to business.
The Mayan-Martian connection. How had it been lost—what were these humans doing here on Mars. Deep in the pyramid—the gyroscopes of time tilted. I dialed open the door—and there was Deckard.
He was a strange one—and yet I wouldn’t be here without him. This melancholy bounty hunter—who suddenly had a crisis of consciousness.
His guilt over retiring so many droids—then falling in love with Rachel. He was tall & gaunt—standing there in the pilot’s cockpit chamber. Suspended in time—like the rest.
I sensed it—the inevitable cargo cult nostalgia. Deckard, Tyrell & the close group of scientists—they were the future of the race, of course. We Mayan-Martians were gone now—we phased in & out the way all civilizations do.
Tyrell and TerraCorp—the vanguard of the New Capitalism Interplanetary Dynasty. Their Japanese Warlords & POMO BP Barons—they were extending far beyond what we Mayan-Martians were able to achieve.
They were already past—the post-Gulag Asteroid Archipelago Stage. The Oort Cloud Belt beckoned to them—out past the Plutonic limits of our solar system. Out past the dimensional shield—of the Known Universe.
It was sad—but true. Our ancient Mayan-Martian technology—had reached its limits. Our R&D was different than these clever Earthmen. It was more organic—and belonged to another age. The Age of New World grown old—and then the Jungle closing in on the Ruins left behind.
My race was gone—our technology lagged behind our insights. We were good psychic-stonemasons—good at levitating limestone & granite blocks. To build our pyramids—and send them thru space. We were the ultimate stone age / space age astronauts—at least for awhile.
Our mathematical wizards—spanned time with precise predictions. Imbedding in stele & pyramids—the proper 13-month yearly clockwork compass of the solar system spheres.
Since we could levitate matter & count time so accurately—why didn’t we go the Western technology route? Steel, gunpowder, railroads, petroleum, internal combustion engines, cars, jets, space ships?
We looked down on what our artists—considered to be profane to the Mother Planet. When levitation was cleaner—and the 13-month calendar gave the right coordinates for levitating pyramids to Mars? Why fuck around—with the Cortez cortex crowd?
That’s what impressed me—I suppose the most. Although I was growing tired again—this time-space distortion I could hold in my hand only so long. Time would continue to flow backwards without me—spilling out into the universe faster than the speed of light. Creating an interval of space—around it within it thru it. This brief déjà vu flashback—which Deckard & Tyrell had created for me.
I let the pyramid—settle silently & gently back into its ancient footprint in the sands. I was more humanoid & Nexus droid now—than Martian could ever be. It would be useless—and serve no point to revive the past & old forgotten memories.
It would be inopportune of me—to impose my past on this little group of young development personnel. It would, well—be better off for all of us. To now erase my Martian memory. To forget once again—my Mayan past.
I let all of my past life go—the great pyramid ship obeyed my orders. It shuddered briefly—the control room reverted to the examination room again. Deckard opened his eyes—Tyrell woke up from his trance. The Nexus squad—looked around.
I was back once again—standing there. Next to Deckard—in the pyramid. Deckard’s better half. His kept Droidboy—his moody otherworldly companion.
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