Having received his tea, the hermit leaned back comfortably into a hill of sand and regarded me over the steaming cup.
“Now I wonder,” he said, “whether the Sisterhood is up on interpreting the Ancient Prophecies, too?”
“No, actually, Señor.” I sipped coffee very carefully. I have some circuitry close to my eustachian tubes that registers intense pain if exposed to too-hot liquids. “We concentrate on the healing arts.”
“The reason I was asking being,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken, “dat I need to get a fix on how much time I’ve got before Lemuria rises again.”
Lemuria? I did a fast access. “Ah. You mean the legendary drowned continent, the Atlantis of the Pacific,” I said.
“Older than Atlantis,” he said firmly. “Them Atlanteans was no more than colonists of Lemuria, if yez want the truth of it. It was the cook on board the Northerly Isles first told me about Lemuria; he was a man with an education, ye know, before them unfortunate circumstances what sent him to sea. I’m telling you, the Lemurians had it over Atlantis in every way. Their high priests knew more arcane lore, their temples and palaces was bigger, and they sunk first.”
“Really.”
“They did. And see, the Atlanteans (who had got degenerate to start with, which was why they sunk) spread out all over everywhere and forgot their ancient wisdom, but not the Lemurians. They founded a fine city up on Mount Shasta, and from there They’ve kept Their gold and silver vessels together and Their ancient libraries and all.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do. And I wager the reason They’ve been so careful to keep to Themselves is,” he leaned forward for emphasis, “dat They know Lemuria’s going to rise again, any day now, and They want to be able to move back in without the place getting crowded. Just a select company, ye know. They ain’t said it in so many words—They’re shy that way—but I can tell, all right.”
“Mm-hm.” I tasted my coffee. “And you need to know exactly when Lemuria will rise? Why don’t you ask Them, Señor?”
“O, I have.” He wrootched uneasily in the sand, causing little avalanches around himself. “But They don’t care to talk about Lemuria much, which is a prudent thing to do, right enough, I can see dat; but, see, I’ve got this school to found, and if I know the vast submerged peaks ain’t going to lift clear of the waves for another year or so, why then I’ve got time to get everything ready. On the other hand, if it’s the day after tomorrowlike dat the ancient palaces is rising into view again, I’m in a sad fix.”
“You’re founding a school?” Who did he think was going to attend, clams? “What kind of school, Señor?”
“The School of Lemurian Knowledge.” He put his finger to the side of his nose. “Now, it was foretold in me natal horoscope dat I was to found a great institution of learning. And, me being wrecked here, yez wouldn’t think dat would come to pass, would yez, now? But Destiny’s a mighty thing. It was here I met Them, and They saw at once I was spiritually evolved enough to keep company with the likes of Them. Mind you, it was a while before They’d admit to being the Ascended Masters—made out at first like what They didn’t understand me—but at last They saw I was clever enough to have found out Their game. They put me through a lot of tests to see if I’m worthy, and They has prepared me ever since to be one of the Elect what’ll get to live in Lemuria once it’s up again. Why, They’ve had me to visit up there, ye know, I’ve walked in Their golden tunnels on Mount Shasta!
“But, after all, I pity me fellow creatures dat’ll have to stay here and ain’t had the benefit of Their company. So what I been doing is, I been copying down all I seen when I visits Them on sacred tablets, which is to form the library of me school. As soon as I’ve got all the collected wisdom down, pupils will flock to the dunes from all over the world. So, see, even if I ascend to Lemuria, or row out to it, or something, I can still pass on Their knowledge to mankind.”
“So you see yourself as a sort of Promethean benefactor, then,” I said straight-faced, taking a cautious drink from my cup. He drank too and then looked up as the classical allusion sank in.
“Mind yez, I ain’t stealing any sacred fire from Heaven!” he protested. “They’re good fellows, Them Ascended Masters, and I’m sure They wouldn’t mind about me copying things I’ve seen on sacred tablets, if I’d got around to mentioning ’em to Them. But I’ve been so busy, what with Them always testing me worthiness and all…”
“No, no, of course.” I looked around at the shifting sand. “But, tell me, what do you do for your tablets? There is no stone here.”
“Clam shells,” he told me. “I paint on the insides, see.”
I looked at the net bag, lying where he’d dropped it. I wasn’t quite up to breakfast yet. “Can you get a lot of sacred wisdom in a clamshell?”
“Yez can if yez paint small; but then dat’s another way these dunes has it over other places, for there’s much bigger clams here. If I had to use them little rubbishy eastern clams I’d have no end of labor.” He shook his head.
“Good point.” There was sand in the bottom of my cup. I tilted it and dumped the last few drops out. “Well, Señor—I wish I could be of some assistance to you in your generous efforts to spread enlightenment. Though I must say most arcane texts I’ve read hold the opinion that Lemuria won’t rise before the end of this century, so I think you have plenty of time.”
“Do yez tell me so?” He knit his white brows uncertainly. “All the omens I been seeing predict a great change dat’s coming.”
Well, there was the Civil War of the Yankees about to kick off, not that he’d be likely to hear much about it out here. I looked thoughtful and said, “I too have heard of a great disturbance in the affairs of men soon, but most prophets agree it will not last long. Surely, then, they don’t mean the rise of Lemuria?”
“O, no, I suppose not,” he agreed, draining his teacup. “For when Lemuria escapes Ocean’s mighty bosom, its next great cycle will last seventeen million years, ye know.”
It took nearly that long to get him to leave, with gentle hints and tactful shoves; but at last he vanished over the top of a dune, waving cheerfully, and I was able to relax in blessed silence.
And without mortal distractions I got so much work done that day, hangover notwithstanding, that by nightfall I was able to transmit preliminary results on my field credenza to the relay station on the nearby mesa. Things were looking good for Laurent’s sufferers everywhere. With the cellular map and the holoes I included the following smirky communication:
SPECIAL NOTE: AUTHENTIC HOLY MAN LIVING IN DUNE REGION! ELDERLY MALE CAUCASIAN EUROPEAN ORIGIN, SPONTANEOUS CROME GENERATOR ESTIMATE FORCE 10. CLAIMS TO HAVE BEEN CONTACTED BY ANCIENT LEMURIAN MASTERS AND IS CONFIDENTLY WAITING FOR SUBMERGED CONTINENT TO RISE. IS COMPILING LIBRARY OF TEACHINGS OF ASCENDED MASTERS! GREAT SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY TO OPEN HERE ANY DAY NOW!
I signed off, crawled out of the tent and stood stretching, looking up at the stars. All the black heaven sparkled and shone, and the Milky Way streamed out to sea like smoke from a ship’s funnel. Too nice a night to waste on sleep. I strolled off across the sand, following the sound of the night ocean.
Cresting the top of a dune unmarked by any print, I looked down on the white circle of a shell midden. It gleamed under the starlight, perfect in its circumference. How many generations of Chumash had picnicked here, before the Europeans came? The thing must be fifteen meters across.