God Hated Us

CHAPTER 1

MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER NAMED our land Atlantis.

The Isle of Atlantis, my home.

I am Michael, and this is my story.

It might be better if I was born an earthling, not a Nibirian. I am a starseed, born on planet Earth, the last line of my people, great explorers from Nibiru. Few remain now, and others are preparing to leave—the gods of men, the creators of the human species.

These are called the end days, as far back as I can remember. What begins this story has no beginning, and what will end it has no end, as life goes on. Yet the story needs telling, as we may be forgotten in time.

I am no hero, and my part in this story is not significant. A storyteller I am not. This account is of what I can remember, so much will be lost as memories take on different shades in time. When I get stuck on a task, I ask myself what teacher Mestor would tell me to do. He has now left, but his voice is clear in my head: ‘This story is of your knowing, Michael. Your mind paints a picture of that knowing. Let the light and shadow fall as they may. Now measure your words. Use only those that’re needed. And tarry no longer, just get on with it, you fluffhead!’

So, as plainly as I can, I tell the story of my people and my love for a girl.

In the sixteenth earth year since my birth, my father Albion gathers a high council at our home, in the region named Ataurus, about the centre of the isle. Ataurus is my childhood home.

I search for Father in his gardens—he escapes there to think, tend to his plants, and mostly get away from the noise of a busy house. Only few can access it; the secret opening is well hidden. Father’s humorous mind has played on the inside of the garden in a geometry of tunnels, paths, and turns, interlocking and shaped as a half circle, which actually serve no purpose but as a labyrinth to confuse an intruder. I take a familiar shortcut to the inner chamber, roofed over by a crystal dome, and feel for the mechanism that slides open the door.

My father is pacing the golden floor, hands behind his back, and his dogs, Gaio and Attica, rise up to greet me. They are always at his heels; at night they sleep by his bed. We can always hear his approach, as the padding sound of the dogs gives him away.

‘All well, Papi?’

‘Ah, Michael, I need silence. The shape of silence fits me well. And you’re escaping as well, I see.’

I look at him, a real hero, a master builder and engineer, as are many of our people. Father completed all the buildings in Ataurus, and a lot more beside. He stares at his tablets and instruments, which overflow from shelves opening out of the walls. A couple of padded benches and a large table strewn with all his work is all he wants within his space.

‘Mami has the slaves, and everyone else is in a state of frenzy. Everything is shining. What’s the point of more scrubbing? And there’s enough food and drink for the entire island!’

Father is absent-minded. ‘Michael, the council… you’re not yet of age, but I want you to sit in, nonetheless. Many questions need answering. You’ll learn a lot, just by listening.’

He starts rambling about our glowing planet Nibiru, the red-haloed planet with a multicoloured pattern of life I can only imagine. I have never walked the soil of this legendary world, seen its raging rivers, heard the terrifying storms, inhabited its underground cities, nor joined in its plentiful festivities. Mother says that some other explorers may well be more developed, but none like poetry, song, and good living as we do.

I can fully comprehend neither the laws and customs of this faraway world nor the terrible forces that threaten its way of life. Father and his fellow explorers left their beloved home to obtain the gold needed to create an atmospheric veil, and fix the looming damage. They found the needed energy resources and saved Nibiru from sure destruction. It was a mission worthy of heroes.

‘Son, after a long search on unkind planets, we found the required metals and shipped them back to Nibiru, from Earth and Lahmu. Mighty stars, for eons of time, we’ve ached to go home, but news always grew worse, the danger of annihilation ever present. A thicker shield was needed. More gold than we could dig out had to be shipped out. We had to work faster and the grafting was backbreaking. To aid our hard labour, humanoids were created. Your great-grandparents were on the team for this task. Many admixtures were tried: the one that worked best was the erect animal life essence crossed with our own life essence. Beast and starseed fused together, giving birth to a new species of aliens: earthlings. Aye, starchildren, created in our image—akin to us, looking like us, wonderfully made, and strong.’

Father rubs Attica’s head as she rests her paw on his knee. ‘Creators we’ve become. Er, not of machinery, or androids, but of living beings with the essence of Spirit in them. This is forbidden by the Exploration Charter, and ahem, we’ve lived to regret it’

As Father speaks, the door slides open and Mother walks in.

‘In this home, we don’t wallow on what can’t be helped. Idleness, that’s where all this brooding comes from. Well, I’ve a quick remedy for that!’

Father’s mood always lightens when Mother is around, and his dogs only listen to her.

‘Come on, Michael, lots to be done. Check the board games. See that no pieces are missing, and they’re properly dusted. Then get down to your uncle Dumuzi and bring up whatever soma is ready: he should have flacons done by now. That cow Sekhmet will drink one on her own! Take Deo with you. Actually no—he’s still helping me bake my angel cakes. Mind you, not sure how many end up in the basket, the way he eats them! Take Isudoro and please beg Dumuzi to come out of hiding and join us for high supper. He likes you, so he might relent. Well then, get on with it!’

I look at my parents, holding on to each other and laughing. I think about the courage needed to leave one’s home and face the unknown, the long dangerous journeys through space, the discomfort, and homesickness. I cannot imagine anything worse. Ataurus being the only home I had known, filled with beauty and unbound love.

Finding Isudoro takes a while. The place is huge. Mother calls our home spacious and comfortable; Mestor defines it a monument to bad taste. I have never bothered to count all the rooms, each made up to Mother’s standards.

Enough gold and precious stones to fill a mother ship adorn the house. The creative spirit of so many people brought into being fanciful artforms and sculptures filling the vast halls and libraries, hospitable spaces for countless festivities. The only quarters of lesser opulence are our family’s gathering rooms and the kitchens—our favourite parts of the house.

Father built our home as a six-pointed star, on five levels, each decreasing in size. The rounded rooms open onto pillared balconies, staircases drop down enclosed loggias, and suspended walkways lead to secret entrances. Wide steps from the splendid gardens climb up to blue-marbled porticos edging around the house. Seen from above, the dwelling resembles a gigantic flower reaching up to the sun, petals of white, red, and gold.

Big crystal windows frame sweeping views of the wide valley below. Groves of trees, laden with fruit, fill the spaces between the sprawling settlements, slave villages, and the many outbuildings and barns.

The Antilla River runs through the valley, and all along it are large tracts of farmed land. Spring waters from the massive mountain ranges surrounding Ataurus flow freely into the Antilla, and Dumuzi channelled the waters for our use.

The valley rises up into forested areas, cleared on the left side to make way for the spaceport and control centre, clearly visible from the house, being on the same eye level. Six smaller landing pads around the house are fitted for passenger shuttles, which bring guests from the spaceport.

Beyond the control centre, and hidden from view, operates the metallurgy centre, refinery, and smelting works for the gold and precious metals flown in from the mines.

Isudoro is scared of the passenger shuttles, so we get to the barn and hitch Amadi, the donkey, to a cart and off we go, Isudoro whistling away his bad humour.

‘It would be faster to fly there, Isudoro!’

‘Uh, huh, if the gods wished for us to go any faster, master Michael, we would’ve wings. As it is, let’s enjoy this glorious day. Besides, Amadi needs the exercise.’

He looks at me, shrewd dark eyes bulging out of his broad face. I know that Amadi is the slowest in the pack and despises all forms of exertion.

‘You’re aware your mother can run an army into the ground, master Michael!’

He has a point. I hold the reins, and he dozes off. Father’s words make me look at Isudoro anew: ninety-four earth years born at the time of the council, he came to us as a young man from the Abzu, where the dark skinned people originate. He is quite short and thickset, dark curly hair, a large nose, and thick lips that seldom break into a smile.

I believe that other explorers have starseeded different races of earthlings, and most of the new alien species on the planet have done very well.

While brooding, the cart slowly makes its way through open fields, then stretches of stepped farmland, followed by hilly grassland, winding around a wide path, to the right of the forest. That path is trodden by few and leads to great-uncle Dumuzi’s orchards.

Isudoro opens his eyes and looks up suspiciously: ‘Tell me, master Michael, why every time I happen upon this forbidden place I feel like I’m doing something wrong, even if I’m not. Nay, not that. I feel guarded, like someone’s watching me, but there’s no one there!’

‘That’s because someone is always watching. From the control tower, far-seeing beams can see way beyond the mountains. There’re eyes everywhere.’

‘Gods of creation, help us! These sciences are magic—or maybe scientists need to practise as magicians, for good reason or not. Explain to your humble housemaster what’s the need for all those eyes when we’re imprisoned by mountain peaks that only eagles can get over, or those blasted metal birds? Ohmigods, I never wonna see the inside of one again!’

‘They need to check who flies in and out, Isudoro, and from the control tower, they open up a shield to protect us. No one can see Ataurus unless they want them to. And they make the weather even, always high spring—that’s why the light is pearly crystal, or such. Mestor was explaining it, but I forgot.’

‘Nay, you weren’t listening. Gods’mercies, don’t tell me that’s a skybird that’s landing. Our guests are starting to arrive. They were meant to get here a lot later! They wonna start feasting early, that’s what! It’s your mother’s cooking they come for. She’ll have me roasted if I don’t get back soon!’

Isudoro pulls up in front of the storage facility, and we see Dumuzi stride up on his long legs. Behind him, orchards of inbu trees stretch out in the distance. Irrigation tubes running alongside the plants form a gleaming web. His residence and laboratories are built for practical purposes, of the local white stone, and all unnecessary frills forbidden.

‘Tell me, master Michael, how is it fair that so much beauty be given to one being, eh, and not shared more fairly with the rest of us?’

I look more closely at my great-uncle and realise that Isudoro is right: Dumuzi is even taller than our tall Nibirians, and just as fair-headed and blue-eyed; he is moreover beautifully proportioned. Pity he is always so intense. Self-cultivating, Mother says.

After greetings, he opens the door with a special device, and we load the precious elixir on the cart. Extracted from the inbu fruit, it is needed by my people, along with other aids, for self-rejuvenation, to undo the damage earth causes to our cells. We age a lot faster on this planet.

‘What’re you working on, uncle?’

‘Mmm, Michael, where do I start; a great many things. Right now, on plants that can grow anywhere in space and miniature fruit trees which can be potted and produce continuously during our trips. See, it’s simple: all follows the same fundamental designs that replicate everywhere in nature. Earth is at the right distance from the sun, with the ideal accrual of water on its surface—a good position for growing most life forms. I want to recreate the same conditions for ideal growth in orbit, and on other planets. The Great Creator of All, the Supreme Intelligence, has made our galaxies possible. Surely, I could do this one small thing?’

With the sun shining on his golden head, Dumuzi cuts a remarkable figure.

‘Mami wants you to come for high supper. I need to ask, or she’ll box my ears!’

‘Tell Ariel my work is most incumbent. Tell her whatever you want—a crisis, there’s always one of those. Michael, you know how much I loathe social gatherings. They suffocate me.’

‘Lord Dumuzi, may I be so bold as to ask if my lady Ylenia will be attending high supper at her mother’s request, or is she to remain here, as a witness to your remarkable accomplishments?’

‘Oh, Ylenia is a lot more than a witness, Isudoro. She’s by now a valuable assistant. And a free spirit. She does as she feels.’

Dumuzi seals the door and with a wave of his hand turns a corner and is gone from sight. We mount the cart, and Isudoro grumbles, ‘They’ve indulged her. In my country, children do as they are told, or else. No such a thing as do as ye feel. If I did that, I’d sleep all day long. No, she’s too beautiful to be wasted on this nature nonsense. Doesn’t even comb her hair anymore, ye notice? And that’s after she cut it shorter than a peasant boy. Her golden tresses, more precious than gold—no, far more—I’ve kept them in a jewelled casket, where they belong. How’s she ever gonna find a husband, eh? Not that she’s looking, mind. And she’s getting on a bit.’

Isudoro adores both my sisters but has a soft spot for the youngest, Ylenia. How old they are, I can only guess, as they would not tell. I was an unexpected gift, Mother says, a star child born on Earth.

Spacecraft of different shapes and sizes dash overhead, hovering by the spaceport and landing strip, to be shown their landing platform. Passenger shuttles at the ready then bring guests to the house, and hence they are shown to their chambers.

‘Lords of mercies, is that Utu’s blackbird I see flying past? One of a kind. So Utu is here. This is a big one, then. Come on, Amadi, sweet girl, hurry on! You don’t want my lady to skin me, do ye? I’m attached to it, I tell ye, and like it just where it is. Tell ye what, my honey pot, pick up a trot and ye get a bucket of sweet apples for ye supper.’

We have a good laugh when Amadi trots off, full of vigour.

‘She has the guile of a woman, master Michael. Be charming, be generous, and they’ll do anything to please ye, even if ye’re lying through your teeth.’

We get the cart to the back kitchen entrance, where other carts are offloading their bounty.

‘So have they all arrived?’ Deo’s voice startles me, just as the whirring sound of a skybird approaching overhead reaches us and plunges out of sight.

Someone scoffs, ‘That’s Marduk’s bird. He likes to ride it himself, and he also services it himself—which, hey, isn’t the only thing he likes to service’

Isudoro is back to his usual self. ‘I’ll service the two of ye in a minute. Back to work, you hairy fat-arsed cocks, and stow them dirty mouths till I get to ye. Deo, where ye going? Gimme a hand with the flacons. Can’t trust the buggers near the stuff; they will all take a tipple. Nay, not in the kitchens, underground cellar. I’m the only one with the keys.’

Deo, helping to offload, says, ‘I’ll help, Isudoro, but I need to fetch more honey for Lady Ariel’s angel cakes. As light as a feather—we can’t make enough.’

‘Nay, not the way ye eat them. Hurry now, I’m raging to get back.’

Before Deo runs off, he remembers to tell me, ‘Michael, your mother wants you cleaned up and scrubbed. Scrubbed, she said.’

I am very fond of Deo, the last of a long line of priests and priestesses trained in Ataurus, then sent back to their people, to do healing work, teach skills, and impart laws. By orders from Nibiru, knowledge has been granted to earthlings, in order to uplift them.

Deo’s father Tamesi has been in Father’s service as a scribe, until tragedy forced him to leave and Deo arrived in his stead. He often takes lessons with me, under teacher Mestor, but we all find it amusing that his real passion is for cooking, and he spends a lot of his time in the kitchens. Mother is an excellent cook, and we all eat far too well. When Deo arrived in Ataurus, he was a scared, scrawny young man. He has become rounded, with a tall, sturdy body and well-proportioned features. He keeps his fair hair short and is clean-shaven; his blue eyes in turn reveal the kindness, or the concern, intrinsic to his nature.

Walking towards the staircase to get to my rooms, I hear my sister Paciteo’s voice and duck behind a pillar just in time. She loves the company of others and is in turn adored by everyone and doted on.

Mestor describes me, instead, as inner-directed. I prefer to live inside my head and keep my own company, avoiding the discomfort of endless chattering and similar pursuits.

‘By Jupiter’s nymphs, you grow in beauty every day! This heavy planet hasn’t marked you, and forever more you resemble your beautiful mother. Where’s that queen of queens?’ That is great-uncle Marduk’s voice. He has terrified me since I was a little one. Paciteo throws her arms round his neck, reaching up on pointed toes.

Marduk chuckles. ‘No wonder they need to lock you away in this fortress, you gorgeous minx. Where’s everyone?’

They walk off towards the hall, and I make for my rooms. In my bathing chamber, soaking in sweet smelling warmth, I think about Paciteo: she does look a lot like Mother, tall and slender and beautiful enough. Yet Mother is always enchanting, without needing the large amount of time Paciteo spends preening herself and forever having clothing made; she can change a few times a day and prance around. Father says she needs a husband, but the one she had returned to Nibiru with someone else, so she is back at home.

Descending the stairs, I gaze upon Azaes and his pilot Samyaza—he who never smiles—walking through the main entrance. Father, with Marduk at his side, greets them. There is always a lot of kissing, hugging, and backslapping with my people; we are a demonstrative lot.

Marduk’s voice booms out. ‘I was watching the landing. Hey, that was one lousy landing. Samyaza is getting too old, methinks.’

Samyaza growls between his teeth and storms off; Gaio and Attica cower behind Father. Azaes groans, ‘Shut it, Marduk! My Tiamat is packing up on me again. The old bird has taken a lot of abuse for sixty thousand years, but she has served me faithfully. Creaky at the joints, that’s all. A bit of tuning, a touch here and there, and she flies. We can’t get spare parts from Nibiru anymore. All supplies have dried up. But I’ll tell you this—they don’t build them to last like my Tiamat anymore. Her stardrive is as smooth as any young bird.’

‘You could’ve fooled me. A touch here and there, you say. Hah, right, I’ll have a look at her later. Could be just a faulty circuit-breaker. I got spares; so long as your circuits are still functional, you old metusella. Come, there is a feast waiting outside.’

The sound of horses approaching makes Father say, ‘Ah, that has to be Gibel and Merope. Let’s wait for them.’ Surely enough, Father’s brother and his wife stride in, full of energy and good humour.

‘Holy goodle, why can’t you take a shuttle, like a civilised being?’ asks Marduk.

Uncle Gibel laughs. ‘I dream my best dreams when riding my horse. Shuttles are for the lazy.’

‘And that’s from the ones that run the spaceport? Oh, mighty stars help us. Where’s Amperes?’

‘He won’t leave the control centre, Marduk. He even sleeps there.’

‘Methinks that I should go rescue the lonely bugger—’

At that, Aunt Merope says, ‘Our son doesn’t need to be rescued, Marduk, especially not by a scoundrel like you. Nay, he takes a long view of things, and that’s how he orders his living. Now, tell me how your family is doing.’

As they walk into the hall, I slip in behind them and sit to one side, hoping not to be noticed. The room is shaped like a horseshoe, filled by tiered seats, with a very large circular table in the middle, which everyone can view. It is lit from within, and holographic images generate from its surface; panels of flashing lights, levers and buttons surround the viewing screens and regulate the screening.

Behind the table, the hall opens into a covered portico and grassy gardens. A soft breeze drifts in. Tables outside are laden with food and drinks, which the slaves keep refilling. Hammocks stretch out between trees, and smaller tables with chairs find shade under ancient arbutus trees.

Paciteo strides towards Sekhmet; in turn, she slings her arm around my sister’s shoulders and shrieks, ‘Great snakes, are we all here?’

Utu seems put out. ‘Where’s Dumuzi then?’

‘I believe you’ll have to visit him by the orchards, Utu,’ Mother answers. ‘Work wraps him up, and all else is neglected. Which reminds me, I better send food down or he’ll forget to eat.’

At that, Sekhmet starts up again. ‘I’ve flown from the tip of this island to be here, but he can’t come down the road. What’s the matter with him?’

Gaio and Attica, who have been quietly lying at Father’s feet, prick up their ears and growl at her. Father pats them and retorts, ‘He grows the inbu fruit, content in his loneliness, makes us the soma that keeps us young, asking for nothing in return. Do we owe him reproach, then, or some appreciation?’

‘Mmm fine, whatever, but I’m picking up a barrel of the stuff before I go.’

Azaes, who keeps eating and drinking, says to Sekhmet. ‘He brought the lifeseeds of cows and sheep and whatever else into this splinter colony. They’ve multiplied and thrived thanks to his genius. That’s good enough for me. What else would I eat? I hate plants. I can drink them. That’s good enough for me. Don’t have to chew the damned things as well, no way.’

No wonder Azaes is the largest in girth, even though he has a thin face, with long hair and beard. He has a way of being that is quite majestic—or quite arrogant, according to Mestor.

‘Then our wines, beers, and ales will cheer you up no end. And there are fresh juices from the fruits of the island. Tell me, dear Azaes, how is the family?’ asks Mother.

Before he can answer, Sekhmet interrupts. ‘Aye, the animals, who would’ve thought they do so well. I was so sick of fish and birds! All multiplies on this forsaken colony! By Jove, have the humanoids multiplied like locusts—and are a lot more destructive, mind you. Always moaning. What a botched up experiment that was! Ahem, it seemed a good idea at the time. We did what we had to do. I had several killed before I got here. Aye, some lives must end, that’s all. They don’t deserve a space, just