Ancient Astronauts

Legends

"You're certain it was making a clicking sound?"

"I'm not certain of anything, Dr. Alulim," Hans was sitting up straight on a divan in the parlor of the Levantian sage's expansive home.

Ahriman lay on his side on a low couch. He gingerly plucked a date from the bowl on the table and gestured for Hans to take one as well.

"It is certainly strange, Governor, but why come to me? I am not a psychologist, or a biologist, or an expert of any kind with regard to this subject."

"You are widely regarded to be a wise man, Ahriman."

The levantian paused to finish chewing a bite of the date fruit, then went on, "Yes, that is my reputation, I suppose. If I may, it doesn't seem to be the events on the bridge that really trouble you."

"Sir?"

"What can you do about this attack on the bridge that happened forty some odd years ago and hasn't repeated itself?"

"Nothing."

"How do you feel about that?"

Hans chuckled, "I feel like I should be able to do something about it."

"Ahh," Dr. Alulim raised his pointer finger toward the ceiling, the date fruit held between the thumb and ring finger, "That is the issue. Not what happened, but your feeling of powerlessness to prevent what may happen."

The giant man on the divan bowed his head and stared at the date fruit in his hand.

"Do you know why dates are such a popular treat in Mesopotamia?" Dr. Alulim used the ancient Greek term for the region between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.

"No, I don't know their cultural significance," Hans replied.

"Dates are important to many different peoples for many reasons," Dr. Alulim said as though giving a lecture at a university, "But to me it is a symbol of beauty, endurance, and the fleeting nature of time."

Ahriman leveled his wisened gaze at Hans, "Take a bite."

Hans raised the date to his lips and did so, a warm caramel taste filled his mouth.

When Ahriman spoke again he sounded exactly as Hans would expect a wise man to. The slow, deep, rhythmic baritone was soft and supple like a date palm yielding before the wind without breaking, firmly rooted to its place in the world.

"As we age, time seems to fly by. Life is no longer new to us, the excitement loses its edge, and we see the end rapidly approaching. Life is sweet at first. It is filled with richly layered flavors like the fruit in your hand, and, also like the date, fades soon after it breaks from the tree. We cast about in vain for meaning, asking ourselves what we've done with the time we've been given. 'Was it worth it?' We plead to the heavens."

Ahriman didn't seem in a hurry to continue, and patience was not usually one of Hans' virtues, "What are you saying, doctor?"

"Hmm," Dr. Alulim sat up and crossed his legs beneath him, "That. I am talking about precisely that. You are impatient, Hans. Time does not pass quickly or slowly, it simply passes. Though it may seem to soak into the desert sand and evaporate in the sun's unforgiving rays, it does not. It flows on steadily, coursing through history. We are merely carried along by it."

The two men sat in silence as the words faded from the air, soaking into Hans' mind. Ahriman's eyes wandered over an image of Confucius from the second century BC. The ancient scholar seemed to smile with favor on the levantian sage.

Ahriman gently dropped his eyes from the image, "Ease your emotions, Hans. Lean into the flow of time and accept what you cannot control. Wait patiently for your moment. It will come."