The Time Surgeons
Chapter 15 The Abbey of the Caves

Not much had survived of the Ancients and their knowledge. That they had lived was certain from the ruins that dotted the Earth. That their knowledge and power exceeded that of the present age was clear from the nature of those ruins and the mysterious objects found therein. That their wisdom had failed to match that knowledge and power was evident in the fact of the ruins.

Nobody knew exactly what had happened to them. Most believed they had destroyed themselves. Certainly the old myths said so, speaking of fire and ruin rained down from the heavens by gods angered beyond reason. Some of the myths assigned the blame to the Trickster, the evil god who led men to their doom by appealing to their hubris and playing on their fears.

For millennia men had avoided the most blasted of their ruins, especially the Glassy Plains. There were many legends of men seeking forbidden knowledge, or even more forbidden power, who had been brave or foolish enough to explore there; who had been cursed by the spirits of the dead, so their hair fell out, their eyes bled, and they died.

It was not until mere decades ago that the Sages had discovered that the legends were true, and why: the strange elements that radiated a power as deadly as it was invisible. From that clue, they had discovered that these elements were not entirely the creation of the ancients: that some natural minerals possessed the same power, albeit far diluted; that the elements responsible could be purified.

As in every age since the harnessing of fire and the taming of oxen, men had hungered for the powers from nature that could amplify their own far weaker ones. So it was not long before they learned how to harness this power too. Nor was it long before they knew what else could be done with it: that as fire could cook a meal or burn a city, so the nuclear fires could power a city or destroy it.

But they knew what had happened to the Ancients. They knew that if even the Ancients could be ensnared and destroyed by the Trickster, then the people of this age were no safer. Nuclear weapons would never be developed in this time.

The knowledge of the ancients had been long lost. Except for some scraps, anything recorded on paper had decayed to nothing over the millennia of neglect. If they had stored their knowledge on other materials that too was long gone. Perhaps some of the mysterious boxes and circles had once held it; but if so, no one knew how they might be read.

Since before the Age of Sagacity there had been one exception. A cult dwelling in the deep caves of a mountain had for untold millennia kept preserved, by painstaking copying from generation to generation, fragments of the works of two great kings, or perhaps prophets, Newton and Einstein. The accuracy of their copying was preserved and attested by what the priests claimed were the original pages, now faded almost to illegibility, yet good enough to confirm the accuracy of the copies. The claim was supported by the fact that the pages were preserved between sheets of glass so smooth and pure that surely they must have come from the Ancients themselves.

But nobody knew what their words meant, let alone the mysterious symbols and squiggles that accompanied them.

Timmony was feeling cheerful. He had finished school, doing well enough to be accepted by one of the Sages as his student: not one of the greatest Sages, to be sure, but an eminent one nonetheless. Timmony was from a wealthy family; not one of the greater clans but great enough; his family not one of the wealthiest, but wealthy enough that Timmony could look forward to a life free of worry over mere matters of the flesh.

He, or at least his family, could also afford to pay for long travels. It was not unknown for the wealthy to substitute money for ability; however Timmony had not bought his studentship, but earned it. He was a bright, ambitious young man, interested in physics, the science of how the world worked. But unlike some of his fellows, who had a focus on their work such that they barely noticed the rest of the world, Timmony was interested in many things: not only science but history, the arts, and even religion. And he loved a mystery.

He had read of the Abbey of the Caves and their holy Relics. Few outside the Abbey had ever seen them, and none of the visitors thus blessed had been allowed more than a brief glance at these treasures, let alone the right or time to copy their contents.

One, a reporter for a cultural magazine, had asked the Abbot why, if the Relics were so important, the Abbey did not want to share them with the world. The Abbot had merely smiled and replied cryptically, “The Abbey must preserve the Relics until the world deserves them.”

“Then what must the world do, to deserve them?” the reporter had asked.

“It is written that when one comes who will understand one, then must he be given the other.”

“Do you know what they mean?”

“Only that they hold the secrets of the Universe.”

Ever since Timmony had read the story, he had been intrigued by the mystery behind the Relics and their legendary link to the Ancients. So now, near the end of the year of travel he had granted himself between the hard work of school and earning his place with a Sage, and the years of even harder work under that Sage which he knew were to come, he found himself facing the hard, metal-clad wooden outer door of the Abbey.

The Abbey did not forbid visitors, but nor did it encourage them. No powered vehicles were allowed, even if they could have navigated the narrow, winding path climbing up the mountain from the city on the coast, now so far below. Timmony knew that the arduous ascent was one test of any who wished to enter, and knew there were more to come. He raised the heavy bronze ring on the door and knocked.

When the ringing of the bronze had stopped and its echoes long faded, he did it again. And again. Finally a small hatch in the door was slid sideways and an aged face peered out.

“Yes, my son?” it asked.

“I wish entry, Father.”

“There is little here to interest a young man, my son. Old rooms filled with old men, or young men old in mind. Go back to the town. There you will find drink, and food, and women to please you.”

“Thank you, Father. But I have a lifetime to do that. What I seek lies within.”

“What do you seek here?”

“I study the secrets of the Universe.”

The hatch slid shut, and Timmony feared he had failed some test and his journey was wasted. But some long seconds later, the door creaked open and the old man beckoned him in.

“Thank you, Father,” he said, as the man closed and sealed the door behind him. He looked around at the courtyard he found himself in. Besides the wall he had come through, it was surrounded by three other walls, each with a number of heavy doors, all closed. There were windows but nothing was visible through the heavy drapes masking them, except the flickering of a light or candle behind one not fully drawn. The courtyard was deserted and looked surprisingly untidy, with small drifts of leaves and twigs scattered over it, and in one spot an even larger branch had fallen. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The man noticed his gaze but made no comment, except to say, “Someone will come to see you.” Then he went through the nearest of the doors, Timmony heard the distinct snick of a lock, and he was left alone.

He stood there for five minutes, waiting, but still nobody came. He noticed a broom leaning against a wall, and smiled, As if they wish it to be clean, but cannot find the…

He picked up the broom and began to sweep.

Half an hour later the courtyard was neatly swept, the debris gathered in buckets, and Timmony leant on his broom, his brow now beaded with sweat.

A door opened and a man dressed in black robes with the golden circlet of an Abbot on his head came out, looking around in approval.

“You are a man of the mind, yet not afraid of servant’s work.”

“Here, perhaps I am but a servant.”

“But that is not why you came. What secrets of the Universe do you expect to find here?”

“I am a student of the Universe, soon to be a student of a great Sage. I have heard about your holy Relics, that they contain the wisdom of the Ancients, but none can understand them. I crave your indulgence to allow me to see them. To see the words of the Ancients with my own eyes.”

“Do you think you can understand them?”

“No.”

“Then why do you wish to see them?”

“I love all knowledge, and they are a Truth beyond measure even if I can merely see it, not understand it. But who knows what the gods may grant the humblest of men?”

“Then come, my son.”

The man led him down corridors and stairwells, deep into the earth. Finally he stood before one of the relics, the one with the strange characters ‘NEWTON’ inscribed upon them. He gazed in wonder at the strange curves and symbols it held.

Then something tugged at his mind. Impossible! How can this look so familiar? I have never laid eyes on such wonders before.

The symbols were different, their patterns strange. But there was something about their form and arrangement that was eerily familiar. Then he gasped in wonder.

What had gripped his young mind and sent him on his course into the world of physics was when he first read about the discovery, made by a great Sage many years ago, that the force that pulled rain from the sky and held his own feet to the ground was the same force that caused the moon to circle the Earth and the Earth to circle the Sun. The theory of gravity had transformed men’s understanding of the world, and was one of the things that had started the Age of Sagacity. It had transformed young Timmony’s mind.

And now he saw its equations, in another form written by a hand long dead, but those same equations nonetheless, in the Relic before him.

He swayed on his feet, and the Abbot rushed to hold him, lest he fall upon the sacred Relic itself.

“My son! My son! Are you ill? Some feel the pressing of the walls around them, is that what ails you? Come, we will depart!”

“No…! No…! It is… these are… this is…”

He stopped, staring wildly, at the Relic, at the Abbot, at his inner vision.

“My son?”

Timmony breathed heavily, forcing calm upon his nerves. He turned to face the Abbot. “Father… I think I know what this is!”

The Abbot just stared at him.

“This, or part of it, is the Law of Gravity. The attraction between all matter. The science of the Ancients!”

The Abbot stared at him for long seconds. “Then come with me, and see what you can see.”

He led Timmony into the next room, to a similar relic bearing the inscription ‘EINSTEIN’. Timmony stared at it. He could tell it was like NEWTON, written in the language of mathematics. But it was a far more complicated mathematics, one that struck no bell of familiarity in his mind, one whose meaning he could not guess at.

“I’m sorry, Father. I can tell it is similar to the other, some kind of mathematics of science: but I can neither recognize it, nor divine its meaning.”

The Abbot nodded slowly, as if Timmony was merely confirming the long known. “That is all right, my son. Come, stay with us a while. Rest, and eat. Perhaps one of our Sisters will find you favorable for this night; indeed, once this tale is told, I expect you might have to choose among the applicants.”

Timmony spent a month at the Abbey, the rest of his holiday forgotten. His days he spent in discussions with the Abbot and the Brothers and Sisters of the Abbey; his nights he spent continuing those discussions, while enjoying all the hospitality the Abbot’s cooks, vintners and Sisters were pleased to offer him.

He learned much about the Relics; thought he recognized more of the knowledge recorded in NEWTON. But the works of EINSTEIN remained opaque.

Finally the Abbot called him into his office. “You would make a fine Brother, Son Timmony. But I can see you are of the world not of the Abbey. And you will do more for us by returning to the world than remaining here, for one day you will become a great Sage. So now it is time for you to go. These are our gifts to you.”

Timmony looked at the bound sheaves of paper the Abbot handed to him, and then into the Abbot’s eyes in wonder. “This is… everything!” he cried.

For he held in his hands the finest copies of all the works the Abbey held of Newton and Einstein.

The Abbot nodded. “As it is written. So take our gifts and depart. You will always be one of us, and our doors will always be open to you.”

Timmony bowed low to the Abbot.

“Thank you, Father. Truly, I desire to stay. But as you have said, I must follow the higher Truth and that is to learn more, that I may one day understand all of these. And that I can only do in the world. But may I stay one more day, to say my farewells?”

“Of course, my son. One day, or two, it matters not. It matters only that you are the one we have waited for.”

If Timmony was the one they were waiting for, he thought they had waited in vain. The find made him famous; even his Sage, who had been tempted to dismiss ancient relics as a distraction at best or superstitious nonsense at worst, was persuaded to change his mind by the interest generated by the relics and his student’s part in their liberation from the Abbey’s crypt.

But while Timmony and others made progress in linking some of the equations and even the words in NEWTON with known science, much of it remained mysterious; and nobody could understand EINSTEIN.

Then came the find of the millennium: an ancient, hermetically sealed safe. Inside were a few trinkets, along with six books that looked like they had been written for children: richly illustrated, two obviously simple stories, the other four apparently about the life, times and science of the ancients. The books were extremely fragile but intact; evidently whoever had sealed the safe had done so with some kind of inert gas. Perhaps someone, in the last days of the Ancients, hoping against hope that they could make some knowledge survive. When it had been sealed, its gems had no doubt been treasure and the books practically worthless; now nobody cared about the gems, but the books were a treasure beyond measure. With their simple language and accompanying pictures, and their sheer quantity, deciphering the language of the Ancients had now become possible.

Many Sages, and many more amateurs, rushed to the task. So many that in the field of the Ancient Language the lines between Sage and amateur became blurred. They deduced simple nouns; they deduced what were verbs, adjectives and adverbs; they gained a rudimentary but growing understanding of Ancient grammar. Some of the rules of grammar and spelling made little sense, and many debates raged about the finer points. There were some clues that, as in the modern age, there were other languages besides the one in the books. But if there were they would remain a mystery that might never be solved.

Combining this knowledge with evidence from many sources, including theories of the evolution of modern languages, the possible ways in which the multiple combinations of letters could actually be spoken, and the Abbey’s pronunciation of the relics NEWTON, EINSTEIN and their various other ancient incantations: they even gained a rudimentary idea of what the ancient language sounded like.

Had one of the Ancients heard their attempts, he or she might have stared at them in mystified astonishment. But perhaps they would have been able to puzzle out some of it.

With this new understanding of language, Timmony and his colleagues took a fresh look at his manuscripts. Fortunately they were written in the same language as the books, and they began to divine their meaning. The words helped explain the mathematics, and the mathematics helped translate the words. Soon even EINSTEIN began to divulge his secrets.

By this time Timmony was a notable Sage in his own right with his own students. One of them was a particularly brilliant young man, with a fast and creative mind, a talent for advanced mathematics, and an interest in celestial mechanics. In what would prove to be an inspired insight, Timmony already suspected that since the showpiece of NEWTON was his ‘Theory of Universal Gravitation’, the showpiece of EINSTEIN might be a more advanced development of that. So he suggested that course of study to his new student, who leapt onto the idea like a barbarian onto a stallion.

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