The Encounter: Amazon Beaming by Petru Popescu

Author:Petru Popescu [Popescu, Petru]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782272526
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2016-09-12T20:00:00+00:00

So. It appears that the beginning has a double territory—before everything else happened, but also hovering mystically everywhere, in close proximity to regular time. So going back to the beginning is not really a return, but rather a form of exiting history proper, into the mythical time of renewal.

I ask questions about history proper, and the men debate among themselves, as if the flow of current events never occupied their powers of definition as much as the beginning did. That’s pretty standard. Forest tribes, apart from lacking a written history, lack the institutions that would capitalize on historic development. They have no dynasties, keep no records of battles or other heroic deeds, and have no concept of research into the past. Everything they have is recent and perishable. There is no such thing as opening an ancestor’s grave and peering into its accumulated darkness. And yet…

They may have no sense of history, but they must have a clear sense of the erosion, depletion, degradation that time and events create—otherwise why would they feel such a need for a renewal, for a “repair” of their very identity?

Finally, it seems that history proper is made of a succession of “darks” and “brights,” like the days and the nights. The invasion of the river by settlers is a “dark.” I ask them to repeat this, so I make sure that the dark periods mean strife, hardship, and retreat, and the bright ones relative peace and relaxation. Yes, the darks and the brights are their version of history’s cycles.

“We can escape the dark,” Barnacle explains and Câmbio translates, “by moving back to the beginning.”

The atmosphere is friendly now, and speculative. I feel that I can discuss the tribe’s predicament, so I point out carefully that these people have not been eating and that the ritual is hard on them, particularly on the old ones and the children. For some, each step closer to the beginning is a step closer to death. And what if there’s nothing in the beginning? No relief, no redemption?

Whatever happens in Barnacle’s mind, it steels up his gaze, and I get “beamed” by the same thoughts I received when he ran around the village plaza to undo my spell. There’s no other way out: the old belief has to be proven true. I hear the warning in that, yet I persist: Some people will die. And maybe there isn’t any beginning.

He frowns painfully, his most emotional pose so far.

“Yes, there is,” he repeats. “Tomorrow morning you shall see the signs.”

He uncrosses his ankles and suddenly springs up; I gawk at his athletic agility. He could send me to the beginning now, if he wanted to. All he would need is one of those short and heavily maced war clubs, studded with nasty wooden barbs, the hurling variety.

But there is no confrontation. Barnacle simply utters a parting line, which Câmbio translates: “You’ll see the signs.”

The interview is over. I search Barnacle’s face. He is expressionless, but not hostile. Câmbio moves toward the entrance, and I follow.

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