The Magic Book from Mesopotamia

Earth is becoming a desolate wasteland. It wasn’t always like this — or so the stories say. Before the fauxmocracy made votes obsolete, people believed we could save Earth. There was hope.

Now, half the Earth has dried into desert, and the rest is submerged in water melted from the poles. Masks protect us from the toxic air, and the sky burns red. The world is separated into colonies based on wealth, race, and predicted success. The corporizers — the biggest corporations from the 21st century — send monthly shipments of supplement sustenance to the colonies, barely giving low-status colonies enough to last until the next shipment.

“We used to gather nutrition from the land,” tells Mother Eve, my great grandmother. “Now, the corporizers supply man-made pills and powders made with things we do not know.”

When I was young, I thought she was magic. She had one eye on the past, and the other on the future.

“Before humankind began living in buoy boats, or bunkers underground, much of the planet was still lush with life,” tells Mother Eve. “People walked aboveground in droves, the poles were thick with frigid ice, and fish of all sizes filled the seas.”

My favourite stories are of the greenery and animals that brought colour and vitality to this now lacklustre land. Butterflies and waterfalls roam my dreams. Now, only my imagination supplies me with their beautiful sight.

Only the Elite, who have the favour of the corporizers, can afford the luxury of seeing the exhibits of the past in memoryseums. With the right status, the Elite get the best resources. The corporizers make or break your life, and the fauxmocracy — the global dictatorship masquerading as regional democracies — are in bed with them.

The tech-heads, bureaucrats, and CEOs enjoy life's riches. I, along with the other thousands in my colony, are oil bringers. Our land is one of the last that’s rich with oil — and despite the cries of the activists, the fauxmocracy and corporizers tell us to keep drilling.

Days are filled with back-breaking work. Nights are our salvation. Because that’s when we hear the stories of old. Many of us sit cross-legged; others, standing and leaning in to catch her deep, aged voice tell tales.

“Long before the first corporizers travelled the seas, this land was called Mesopotamia,” Mother Eve says. “The written word and technology were born here. And before the corporizers left their dark mark on the world, we were the first to sail the seas.

“Unlike the corporizers who spread fear, disease and death, our people traded with other nations for knowledge.”

“Where did we go?” I ask, leaning forward earnestly. She smiles a gummy smile down at me.

“Our people went everywhere, and saw all kinds of people. People with skin as pale as snow or skin black as night, with smiles as bright as the moon. We met people who knew things about the land even we did not know, and people who built towers of gold.” We all marvel in wonder as she continues.

“And it’s said that everywhere our people went, we wrote down what we learned. Recorded the knowledge of the seven great nations in a gold book bound in magic.”

“Oh, please,” says a bitter man, crossing his arms. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

Mother Eve looks at him pitifully. “No one knows the power that lies in this world, Isaac. Do not claim to say that you do.”

Several other oil bringers chuckle as Isaac’s cheeks turn red.

“Magic does exist,” Mother Eve says. “And back then, the seven great nations embraced it. The corporizers saw magic as a product of hell, and used their power to stifle it out of our cultures.”

I disagree with Mother Eve — the corporizers do embrace magic, but it goes by another name: technology. For those who can afford it, it’s in their homes, their cars, even their bodies.

“But,” Mother Eve continues, “magic was a part of the wisdom of the great nations. We learned their ways, and bound the recorded knowledge in protection magic — because we knew that it could be used for evil.”

“How big was this gold book?” asks a young child. Mother Eve smiles at her, pulling her into her lap.

“Bigger than any book you’ve ever seen,” Mother Eve coos.

“Bigger than the colony census?” the child asks, making us all laugh.

“Bigger than even that,” Mother Eve says mischievously. “This gold book was so big, and so heavy, it took three men to carry it.”

The child gasps in wonder, making us laugh even harder.

“Remember, this book carried the knowledge of the seven nations, including ours. And it was heavily guarded ¬by our nation’s most noble warriors.”

“If it was protected by magic from the seven nations,” Isaac says sardonically, “then how could anybody open it?”

“There was one man that travelled to these seven nations — a man with magic already coursing through his veins. He learned the wisdom and magic of these nations, and knew more than anyone on Earth. It was he who bound the book in magical protection, and he knew how to open it.”

“But what happened when he died?” I ask curiously. “How did our people read the book?”

Mother Eve looks at me squarely. “The magic he bound the book in was something only his bloodline could open — and when his children were of age, he entrusted them with the wisdom of the great book, and how to protect it.”

She looks at me knowingly, and a feeling that’s foreign yet familiar wells within me.

“Does his bloodline still exist today?” I ask.

“Yes,” Mother Eve replies, a small smirk lining her face. At once I understand — it is our bloodline that is descended from this magical man. And I am the last descendant.

“Well, where is the book now?” asks an oil bringer from the back.

Mother Eve’s face turns solemn. “Legend has it that when invaders came, the wise Mesopotamian man melted the book. It’s said that he transformed the recorded knowledge into living visions, and gave the melted gold to a trusted confidant. Unfortunately, it was lost — as was our civilization.”

The people slump, as hope disappears. Everyone disperses, heading to their cells to get enough rest for the day of drilling ahead. I, along with some other colony members, clean up and blow out the lanterns to preserve oil.

I grab Mother Eve’s hand and guide her back to our cell. When the oil drill malfunctioned years ago, several of the community perished — including my parents and older brother. It’s been her and I ever since. We’re lucky to have the cell to ourselves — and I relish our alone time together.

“That was a great story, Mother,” I say, as we shuffle through the winding maze of the bunker. “I’ll have beautiful dreams for a while. Thank you.”

Even in the dim light I can see her gummy smile as she beams at me, putting her palm on my face. “I’m glad to hear.”

“I wonder what knowledge was written in that book. A gold book bound in magic,” I say in wonder.

“The kind of knowledge that the corporizers would kill for,” Mother Eve says, “and the kind that could save us.”

“What do you mean?” We stop so Mother Eve can catch her breath, as the last few people walk into their cells.

“The great nations knew their land better than anyone,” she explains. “They were intimately connected to it, and respected it. The corporizers have only leeched the land of its valuable resources, and now it’s only a matter of time before Mother Earth is done giving.

“That book held the key to tending the land, and nurturing it. It could save us all from extinction.”

We reach our cell, and my heart falls. “If only.”

She gives me a look that I can’t discern, and I open the door. Our cell is tiny, but enough for both of us. With only enough space for two twin beds, a small bathroom, and a table with two chairs, there’s not much to it. With no window, only our lantern illuminates our cell.

It’s Mother Eve’s turn to bathe, so I help her into the tub. I brush my teeth and put on my bedclothes, and help her into hers after her bath.

We lay in our beds that are only a few inches apart, facing each other as we try to fall asleep. Just as I’m drifting off, Mother Eve grabs a small, red box from under her mattress. She sits up and opens it, revealing a beautiful gold locket.

“Mother Eve!” I exclaim, sitting up quickly, “how long have you had that?”

She shushes me, a youthful smile on her face. “Since before I was your age. I was going to give it to your mother, but then the accident happened… now it’s yours.”

“Mother Eve, I can’t accept this! If this is real gold, we should sell it. The units alone would-“

“Nonsense, child! This is more valuable than money. This has been passed down for generations in our family; and now, it’s yours.”

I’m speechless as she fastens the clasp around my neck. I hold the pendant in my palm, caressing my fingertip on its surface. It’s smooth, cold, and etched with symbols I don’t recognize.

“This locket is all that’s left of our family,” she says, with a sad glimmer in her eyes. “And in your hands, it will save us all.”

I look at her curiously, but she just smiles sadly and caresses my face. We sit there for several moments before she lies down. I make her comfortable and kiss her on the cheek; she kisses my hand and gives me a loving look. If only I had known that would be the last time.

I fall asleep rubbing the locket between my fingers, then awake in the middle of the night. I go to the bathroom to relieve myself and stare at the locket. The gold is luminous — even in the dark — and, surprisingly, looks like light is confined inside. I open the locket, and brilliant light fills the bathroom.

Suddenly, I’m transported above-ground. I stand on soft Earth and look out at the sprawling green land. Dark-skinned people tend to the ground, and the fragrant smell of nature fills my nostrils. A half-naked man, wearing a loincloth with intricate stitching, sees me and asks me something in a foreign language.

Before I can respond, I’m transported to another land. I stand in a thick jungle, fragrant with flora and fauna. I see a small, old city through a break in the trees. People are milling about. In the center of the grounds stands a tall tower of gold. Before I can process this beautiful sight, I’m transported once again to the middle of a village. People with pale skin come out of huts, wearing robes and wide-brimmed hats. A spicy smell trails up from long wooden sticks, sticking up from holders atop a jade pedestal.

They look at me bewildered, as I return their stares. I soak in the dewy landscape. I see people in the distance within the tall grass, the water coming up past their ankles. Where am I?

I’m once again transported, but back into my cell bathroom. I quickly close the locket, and stare wide-eyed into space. Those were visions! I head to Mother Eve’s bed and try to wake her.

“Mother Eve,” I exclaim quietly. “This locket is magic!”

I shake her, but she is still. She does not wake, and her hand is cold in my grasp. My heart falls, and tears well in my eyes.

“This locket is all that’s left of our family,” her final words echo. “And in your hands, it will save us all.”

I kiss her cold, leathery cheek, and put my forehead on hers.

“I will save us all,” I whisper. “I promise.”