The Milestone Protocol, Ernest Dempsey [100 best novels of all time txt] 📗

A Caribbean beach appeared on the screen. Then the image zoomed out, moved, then zoomed back in, plunging into the ocean as if in real time. Bubble effects gurgled on the edges of the screen to the delight of the crowd. Then the picture cleared, and the audience was shown two scuba divers hovering over enormous stone slabs set into the sea floor. Tommy flicked his eyes over the crowd. “How many of you have heard of the Bimini Road?” He only paused a second, allowing a few people to raise their hands despite the insinuation of a rhetorical question. “Some would have you believe it’s a natural formation. In fact, most of the historical and scientific mainstream still contend that these massive stones were somehow hewn, formed, and laid in that pattern by nature, that pure chance organized these megaliths in this way.”

A few giggles ran through the crowd, along with some gasps.

“Insane, isn’t it? Yet that’s what we’re being told, and worse, what we’re expected to believe. ‘Because science,’” Tommy used air quotes. The audience laughed again, harder this time. “Because the ‘experts’ said so.” The second use of air quotes renewed the crowd’s amusement to a near roar.

Tommy waited for the laughter to die down again and offered a smile, shaking his head as if breaking character and losing sight of his speech in exchange for a moment of humor. “It’s crazy,” he snorted, looking down at the floor. He raised his head and looked back through the curtain to his left. His friend Magnus watched with every bit of rapt attention as the audience. The man gave an approving nod to go along with the beaming smile on his face.

“We must not forget the past,” Tommy said, still looking at his friend. Then he tore his gaze away and returned it to the crowd. “We must remember. We must push to learn more about it, to find the things we’ve already forgotten. Who built the site at Göbekli Tepe? Who lived there nearly thirteen thousand years ago? How does their story jibe, or conflict, with that of the Bible or the Sumerian texts, the Vedas or the Koran or anything else we think we have figured out? Are all of those things based on something earlier? Or is it new information we need to compile and assimilate into the rest of our history? And just as importantly, how many more Göbekli Tepes or Bimini Roads or Stonehenges are out there to be discovered, just sitting under the dirt, waiting for someone to dig? Someone with a spade and a brush. Someone like you.”

Tommy paced a few steps, letting his words sink deeply into every heart in the crowd. He spun on his heels to face them once more. When he looked out, he saw determined, fierce gazes from people who had been moved by his speech.

“What will we find if we try to challenge the status quo? Will we find a cure for most of our modern diseases? Will we figure out how to age better and live longer? What kinds of ancient technology will we discover if we begin proactively searching, scouring the world for information we’ve lost?”

Tommy took another drink at the podium then stepped away as images of hungry children, sick people in hospital beds, and spaceships flying into the heavens appeared, taking up chunks of the screen. Doctors and nurses appeared next, followed by pictures of people working at computers, and then finally, a dig site teeming with archaeologists and anthropologists.

“I challenge you to challenge the experts. I challenge you to challenge what we have been taught all along, to challenge the mainstream of history and science, to defy the authority of the establishment that would keep us in the dark and from the light of our past. I challenge you”—he stopped and swept the audience with his brown eyes one last time—“to challenge Dr. Sorenson. And to challenge me. Challenge what we think we know so we stop forgetting and perhaps discover something we lost long ago. Thank you for having me here. It’s been an honor to speak to you today.”

The crowd roared with applause. People rose to their feet, inspired by the message. Tommy smiled back at them, nodding and waving for several seconds before he turned and walked offstage.

He met Dr. Sorenson’s approving stare, though Tommy noted something mischievous about it. “What?” Tommy asked, stopping short of the man.

“Challenge Dr. Sorenson?” Magnus mused. Then he raised a suspicious eyebrow. “We can’t have anyone challenging me now, Tommy.”

Tommy cracked a smile first. “Liked that one, huh?”

Magnus laughed abruptly and nearly doubled over. “I did,” the blond man nodded. He slapped Tommy on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s have a drink and discuss how you just inspired all those people in there to run roughshod over our work.”

“Sounds good, my friend. But you know we have to stick around for a few hours to chat with my adoring fans…I mean your adoring fans,” Tommy corrected. “You know, the picture and autograph thing. I’m sure you’re used to it.”

Magnus blew it off with his right hand. “Please. The only thing these people want from me is a museum and some workshops every once in a while.”

“You may be right about that, but we should still go pose for pictures.”

The two men shared a laugh as they meandered around the back of the stage to the front, where dozens of people waited eagerly to meet them.

They spent the next hour answering questions, some individually and some as a pair. They took pictures with members of the audience, shared their thoughts on certain techniques or technologies helping archaeology, and even hinted at some of the things they thought would come in the future that would accelerate the study of ancient societies and bring about a new age of discovery.

A young black woman lingered near the back of the line and seemed to be