The HAB Theory, page 74
Professor Luther S. Cressman of the University of Oregon who discovered a previously unexplored cave in eastern Nevada, which has now been named Lamos Cave, has made a new discovery in that cave which he claims to “baffle me as nothing ever has before.”
In a remote chamber of the extensive cave, Cressman discovered, neatly stacked, two hundred pairs of woven, modernistic-looking sandals. Carbon-14 dating, Cressman says, shows them to have been made in 7030 B.C…
Santiago Clarin
PERUVIAN MYSTERY INTRODUCED
AT HAB THEORY SYMPOSIUM
Dr. Eva Tobazo, professor of prehistory at the University of Santiago, has brought up for consideration by HAB Theory Symposium scientists in New York a Peruvian mystery of many years ago.
Dr. Tobazo pointed out that a number of vases were found in the Nazca District not far from Pisco, Peru, in the 1920s by Dr. Julio Tello. The enigma lies in the fact that paintings on the vases depict llamas with five toes.
“The llama of our present age,” she told a group in the Regency Hotel, “has only two toes, but in an earlier evolutionary period the animal went through tens of thousands of years ago, they had five toes.”
Rangoon Burman
TIBETAN FOLKLORE LINKED TO HAB THEORY
Dr. Alon Kelawa, professor of philology at the University of Burma, was one of those present at the HAB Symposium discussion in New York when Dr. Ho-Chung Chow of Peking made his startling revelation regarding ancient spiral writing found on stone disks in the Sino-Tibetan frontier district (see “Chinese Discovery…” page 1).
Dr. Kelawa, who studied for many years in Tibet, spoke later in that meeting after Dr. Chow had concluded his remarks. He told of encountering Tibetan folklore of “sky people no larger than an eight-year-old child, but with large heads, who landed from the heavens in a ship near one of the villages.” According to the ancient story, the little sky people approached the village and made efforts to communicate, but the villagers considered them harbingers of evil, killed several of the “Heaven Devils,” and chased the others into the hills, but they escaped into “smooth tunnels” which the villagers feared to enter, but which they thereupon sealed with rocks…
New York Daily News
CHOW REVEALS SECOND CHINESE DISCOVERY
Dr. Ho-Chung Chow, University of Peking archeologist, who Friday stunned members of the HAB Symposium with his relation of an immensely important archeological discovery unknown to the Western world for a quarter of a century, today added another note of excitement to the discussions.
Chow related that a colleague in his department at the university, Dr. Chi Pen Lao, was exploring caves in July 1961 in Hupeh Province west of Yoyang. In the Hohan Mountains at the south shore of Tung Ting Hu (a large lake) he entered a cave and followed it inward and downward. At 32 meters (105 feet) beneath the surface he encountered a large domed room with glazed walls, from which numerous squared tunnels moved off deeper into the mountains in a confusing, interconnecting network. As in the main chamber, the tunnels had a glazed surface as if they had once been melted.
Chow described some of the unusual items found by Dr. Lao, but stressed that no spiral disks had been located here. However, an intricately rendered painting on one wall depicted a wide variety of animals all being driven in one direction by men above them riding on what he called “a shieldlike flying platform” and clad in very modern-looking trousers and jackets. The men held what appeared to be long pipes to their lips, which they were pointing toward the animals…
Atlanta Constitution
PREHISTORIC DEATHS SAID CAUSED BY BULLETS
Two prehistoric skulls discussed today at the HAB Theory Symposium have lent credence to the HAB postulation that highly advanced human civilizations may have existed in previous epochs of time and were wiped out by the sort of worldwide cataclysm the HAB Theory forecasts.
One of these skulls, presently in the Moscow Museum, is that of a large animal called an auroch, which is a type of bison of the Neolithic Age — 4,7000 to 10,000 years ago. The skull provides an anachronistic enigma, because in the very center of its brow is a neat circular hole of a nature which could have been caused by only one means known to man — a bullet. Scientists heretofore have withheld speculation about what might have caused the hole, which is about the size of a modern .44 caliber bullet. Now it is being openly and very seriously discussed as having a bearing to the HAB Theory.
Probably even more startling is a human skull with the same sort of injury, but dated back to approximately 38,000 years ago. This skull is now in the collection of the British Museum of Natural History in London. The director of that institution, paleontologist Percival Heathly III, discussed it with his group of HAB scientists in the St. Moritz Hotel today.
Heathly said that the skull, that of an adult male, was originally discovered in a cave near the Zambesi River of Rhodesia. The left side of the cranium shows a perfectly round hole 1.15 centimeters in diameter, which is approximately the same size as that in the skull of the auroch. The right side of the human skull, however, has been shattered.
“Had the injury been caused by a cold weapon,” Heathly said, “such as a spear or arrow or even a round-bladed knife, there would have had to be radial cracks emanating from the circular hole. Further, it is most unlikely that, had it been caused by such a cold weapon, the right side of the cranium would have been so thoroughly shattered.”
All the evidence, according to Heathly, points to a bullet which entered from the left side and then, flattened in the process of penetrating the bone, continued its course and blew out the right side of the cranium. Close study of the bone edges on the right side indicates it was blown outward from a force inside the skull.
One member of this discussion group was Dr. Sven Evansson, who was the first to treat President Sanders in Chicago following the shooting of last May 22. Evansson, who is chief of surgery at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, closely examined a large number of photographs, including extreme closeups, of the skull and its injuries on both sides of the cranium. Also involved in the close study was Dr. Kenneth Walker, neurosurgeon of South Africa, who is chief of staff of University Hospital in Johannesburg. Both specialists concurred in the conclusion that the injury could only have been caused by a bullet.
Evansson, who was with the U.S. Medical Corps in a MASH unit during the war in Vietnam, told the assembled scientists, “The injury is unequivocally identical to the hundreds of injuries I witnessed in postmortem examination of soldiers shot through the head by rifle bullets.”
2
“I still don’t see why you didn’t let me know right away when you got in yesterday,” Narai Ngoromu said, watching the waiter as he placed their cocktails before them and left.
“Well,” Anita replied, “I did check to see if you were in and you were busy in a meeting, so I didn’t want to bother you. The desk clerk in the Plaza said you were attending one of the HAB group discussions.”
“That wouldn’t have mattered at all!” There was still a slight petulance in her tone. “We’re going to have little enough time together as it is. You should have let me know.”
“Dear, bear in mind that I had a few things to do, too — some calls to make and people to see, so I got tied up. But,” she added lightly, “I knew I’d be seeing you today, and here we are.”
“Yes. And it’s just great. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“How about the symposium? Are the discussions going well?”
“They’re terribly fascinating, Mother,” Narai said, reaching across the table to touch Anita’s hand in a loving gesture, “but honestly, after three days of them my head is spinning!”
A delicate, melodious laughter rolled from her lips and evoked a smiling response from Anita Ngoromu. At a table next to theirs here in the Four Seasons Restaurant on East Fifty-second Street, a nicely dressed middle-aged couple looked at them briefly but with curiosity, undoubtedly wondering why an unusually attractive middle-aged blond woman of obvious Scandinavian extraction should be addressed as ‘Mother’ by a young and beautiful and very dark Negro woman.
“You’re planning to remain until the end of the symposium, Narai?” Anita patted the girl’s hand and then took a sip of her frozen daiquiri. “Mmmm, that’s delicious.”
Narai was nodding. “Uh-huh. Maybe even a few days afterward, although I’m not sure of that yet. Depends.”
The older woman cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “On what?”
Narai’s residue of smile became a little sheepish. “On what I hear from Alex, I guess.”
Now it was Anita’s turn to laugh aloud. “Ah-ha! Do I detect that someone has been touched by the lightning?”
“I guess so, Mother. Alex is so… he’s so…” she fumbled for the proper words.
“Wonderful?” Anita suggested. “Manly and handsome and athletic and bright and engaging?”
Narai nodded, but her expression became melancholy. “All those things. I… didn’t realize how much I was anticipating being with him until all of a sudden it wasn’t possible anymore, and then I just felt crushed. I still do.”
“Will he be back before the symposium ends?”
“It’s not likely, but I am expecting to hear from him and I don’t want to leave until I do. I don’t know where he’s gone, but I’m hoping to find out. If I do, then I’d sort of like to detour to wherever he’s going to be, then go on home from there.”
“That would be nice, dear, if you’re sure it wouldn’t interfere with his business. From what you’ve said, he’s evidently on an extremely important mission.”
Narai shrugged. “That’s what I gathered from what he said when he called that night, but he couldn’t tell me what it was all about or where he was going. But, no, to answer your question, I’m sure we could arrange things so my visit wouldn’t interfere.” She picked up her whiskey sour and made a toasting gesture toward Anita. “To your health,” she said. She sipped lightly, appreciatively, but over the rim of her glass she saw a fleeting, vaguely disturbing expression pass across her stepmother’s features. She set her glass down slowly and was about to speak when the waiter stopped at their table.
“Another drink, ladies, or perhaps you’d care to order now?”
They had already glanced through the dinner menu and halfway decided what they’d have, but when Anita murmured that they might as well order, both picked up their menus with the distinctive cover decoration of four stylized trees, depicting the seasonal changes for which the restaurant was named. Narai gave her order and then, while Anita made her selections, she looked around the restaurant, which was now filled. Large rubber plants stood at each corner of a square pool of water lighted from beneath, its placid surface turning with mild currents. Tall, narrow windows only a few feet wide but easily twenty-five feet high rose from almost floor to ceiling in two of the walls. They were covered by an unusual form of drapery like bellied slattings of reed, which undulated with increasing pulsations from ceiling to floor until the result was akin to a series of waterfalls, with a delightful, soothing effect. Flowering plants and frilly-leaved ferns in hanging baskets were suspended by thin, almost invisible wires to the thirty-foot-high ceiling around the perimeter of the room. It was a beautiful place to dine.
“I so much enjoy coming here,” Anita said abruptly. The waiter was gone. “Your father and I ate here perhaps four or five times and were never disappointed. He—”
“How is Father?” Narai interrupted.
“Why, he’s just fine.” She frowned faintly. “That was a sort of out-of-the-blue interjection. Not like you, dear.”
“What about you?”
Anita was confused. “What do you mean, what about me?”
Narai was looking at her steadily, unsmiling. “Just that, Mother. What about you? A moment ago I toasted your health and I saw something in your expression that bothered me. How are you feeling?”
The older woman was suddenly very busy buttering a roll and replied without looking up. “All right. Same as always, I guess. You know the old saying, you can’t—” She broke off and looked up as Narai’s long fingers curled with a strong grip about her wrist.
“Mother… don’t. You’re holding something back. I know it.”
“Honey,” Anita protested, putting down the knife and roll, “I just don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m as fit as… I’m… I’m…” She broke off and turned her face downward, hiding from Narai’s concerned gaze. The wrist Narai was still gripping began trembling and Narai was shocked to see a single tear drop onto the edge of the bread-and-butter plate with a tiny splatter. In a moment the trembling stopped and, still without looking up, Anita spoke more calmly. “I’m all right now, dear.”
As Narai released her wrist, Anita took up her napkin and briefly touched her face with it and then cleared her throat and looked up at the black girl, a poorly formed smile crooked her lips.
“I’m sorry, Narai. I didn’t realize it was showing. I’ll have to learn better control, and pretty quickly at that. I don’t want Dan to see through me the way you just did.” She shook her head with firmness and repeated, “I don’t want that.”
“Don’t want Father to know what? For God’s sake, Mother, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”
The momentary closing of Anita’s eyes was the same as a nod, but she confirmed it with her next words. “Ill, yes, in a way. Narai, I’m dying.”
“Oh my God!” Narai covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers of both hands and took a deep, pained breath, as if she’d been struck. “How?” The word was muffled, almost inaudible. “You’ve been to a doctor?”
Now Anita did nod. “Yesterday. And in May when I was here. Several doctors. While your father and I were in Washington. When he thought I was out shopping, I’d taken a hop up to Baltimore and was in Johns Hopkins having tests run. We left before I could get the results. They’ve been writing me every week to please come in or else go to my own doctor in Nairobi. I didn’t.” She shrugged. “Afraid, I guess. Wanting to put it off and finding it easy enough to do, because I knew I’d be coming back here now. The letters weren’t specific, but they sounded grim. Now I know why.”
Outwardly Narai had gotten control of herself, but her stomach was still churning and her voice was whispery. “What is it, Mother? Is it cancer?”
“Not as you’re probably thinking of it, no. It’s leukemia, honey.”
“Oh, Mother.” The anguish was evident, and Anita patted the back of her hand.
“Don’t ask the questions, Narai. Is there any hope? Can it be cured? Might they be wrong? The answers are all in the negative. It’s called chronic lymphistic leukemia. There’s treatment, but there’s no cure. And no way of knowing for sure when the end will come. Conceivably, a year… maybe more. Realistically, almost surely no more than six months. Possibly three, and maybe even less. Treatment isn’t going to help much. Unfortunately, I had it for quite a long time before I knew it. Couple of years, possibly. They might have slowed down the process if they’d caught it in time. Might have, but not for sure. They’ve made me an outpatient — transferable to Nairobi Hospital — and they’ve put me on kemotherapy, but even they admit there’s not much it’ll do at this point. It’s an oral medication — the newest treatment — but the best it could possibly do is slow it a bit. Probably not even that.”
She smiled wanly, feeling Narai’s pain right now more than her own. She continued in a gentle voice, trying to make it easier for her dark stepdaughter. “There’s a fairly good chance I won’t linger, either, which will be a blessing — as people will undoubtedly say when it’s all over.” She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Most likely there’ll come what the doctor calls a blastic crisis, at which point the leukemia abruptly changes from the chronic to the acute form. Most likely,” her voice shook a little, “only a matter of hours from that point.”
“Is it…” Narai had trouble getting the word out, “…painful?”
“At times. More so lately, but only at intervals. Mostly just tired all the time.” Her smile became rueful. “A little weight loss, so far, but more to come. Now and then some fairly strong attacks of depression, but I’ve hidden them pretty well, I think. I intend,” she added with more firmness, “to keep it that way. Narai, I don’t want your father to know about this. Not a whisper. Not a hint.”
“But, Mother, he should know. He has a right to know. He loves you and—”
“He absolutely must not know!” The last three words were low and well spaced and very intense. “Narai, I want your promise that you won’t tell him.”
“I don’t understand why not, Mother. Father wouldn’t want you to put on some kind of a brave act, you know that. It’s not fair to him or to you.”
“Stop it, Narai! Think! You’re old enough to remember. When your mother died, your father wasn’t himself for months. He could hardly function. I don’t want him anticipating my death and going into the same sort of tailspin. He mustn’t learn of it. Narai, promise!”
Narai’s lips were set in a tight line and Anita gripped her hand. “Honey, listen to me. Your father is right now, this minute, doing something that may result in the survival of mankind. It’s taking every instant of his every waking hour, and even that may not be enough. He can’t be diverted — not in any way, not by any thing, not by any body! You’re here at the symposium. You know the importance. I don’t have to explain it. Narai, please… please. Give me your word.”
Narai Ngoromu promised.
3
Although it was the Fourth of July and a holiday, the scientists at the HAB Theory Symposium were attending their group meetings as usual. As a result, most of them missed the holiday’s pyrotechnical displays, but not those who attended the group meeting in the Conrad’s Suite of the Waldorf, presided over by Dr. Owen Holder. The fireworks witnessed there were verbal rather than visual, but they quickly became the talk of the entire symposium.
