The Anunnaki

Chapter I

The day the strangers arrived began like any other day. The sun shone bright and hot and the July air was steamy with humidity. The ship moved silently out of the sky and hovered over the Atlantic Ocean just a few miles east of the American coast. It gleamed spectacularly in the sun, a silvery behemoth larger than ten aircraft carriers put together.

For all its size, it was sleek in its design. At roughly ten thousand feet long and twenty five hundred feet wide it featured immense upright fins on both sides of its tail. There were what looked like flight deck windshields on the nose of the craft though they appeared opaque from the outside. Along its sides were delta style wings that seemed much too small when compared to the overall size of the vessel. They protruded only a few hundred feet at their widest.

In spite of its size, it floated serenely at twelve thousand feet while making no sound at all.

It moved lazily toward New York City as crowds of onlookers watched in awe. Although it did not register on any radar or sat station, one needed only look up to know it was there.

Every branch of the American military was immediately put on high alert. Fighter jets from the air force, navy and marines were scrambled. They approached cautiously giving the alien ship a wide berth, though their weapons systems were activated and placed on standby. Antiaircraft positions too were armed and readied waiting for the order to strike.

The American president watched the approach of the vessel grimly. His advisors were divided in their opinions. Some told him to give the order to attack. Others urged him to hold off to see if the ships were hostile. Still others had nothing to say and covered their mouths with their hands as they dithered.

The ship drifted over New York and then kept on drifting. There was no message from it nor any indication of its intentions. It simply floated westward.

Within a half hour it was over Pittsburgh. People looked up with their eyes wide and mouths open in disbelief. Then it floated over Columbus, then Indianapolis. After an hour it passed St. Louis and then Kansas City. Before two hours had passed it drifted over Denver and then the Nevada desert. After it drifted over Sacramento and out over the Pacific Ocean the people of America breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

About sixteen hours later the ship moved over Tokyo, then Nagano. People everywhere watched with amazement and trepidation.

When the ship was at the western edge of the Sea of Japan, the North Korean military attacked. A barrage of missiles was launched from batteries on their eastern coast. As they were en route to their target the North Korean leader read a fiery speech over the state broadcaster that approach by vessels of any kind would be treated as an act of war.

Even before the dictator had finished reading his speech the missiles vanished into thin air. They never got near their target.

The country's air force was launched and approached the ship, now directly over Pyongyang. Without warning the fighter jets simply fell out of the sky. The on-board power systems aboard the planes failed for no discernible reason. Pilots and their navigators were forced to bail out and parachute to the ground. Not one of them suffered so much as a scratch.

The North Korean leader was enraged. He ordered that every weapon in their arsenal be fired at the intruder. Then he used his trump card. Within minutes of opening fire on the ship overhead, half a dozen intercontinental missiles were fired in the direction of the USA.

The ship over Pyongyang floated quietly toward the Yellow Sea and the missiles fired at the American continent disappeared from existence before they entered Japanese airspace.

After the ammunition for every ship, artillery piece and missile silo the North Koreans owned were exhausted they finally went silent.

The whole world watched with baited breath after the attack began. Everyone wondered if the actions of the North Koreans would endanger the entire Human race. Yet the alien ship continued serenely over the Korean countryside and then over the Yellow Sea toward the Chinese mainland.

The President of the United States breathed a heavy sigh of relief when there was no response from the visitors. On calls to Russia, China, Great Britain and France, he was mollified to know they had all been anticipating the worst, just as he was.

He then called a long and protracted meeting with his advisors in the Situation Room to try to work out a strategy.

The silence from the alien ship stretched on as it continued travelling westward. Fighter jets from every nation escorted the ship across their own airspace, all with no reaction or message from the visitors.

Over the next several days the ship continued to circle the planet again and again, passing over every major population center as it went. It became apparent that the ship was not moving at all except for its adjustments to the north or south. It was simply hovering in place as the Earth rotated beneath it, completing a circumnavigation of the globe each day. And still the silence went on.

In an unprecedented show of cooperation, many leaders from around the world agreed on a plan of action. They set up broadcasting stations directly in the path of the ship and repeated a single message in all languages of the Earth.

"Why are you here? Can we speak?"

The days passed and still there was no response from the floating behemoth.

Two weeks after the ship first appeared in the sky the visitors finally made contact, but in a way that was most unexpected.

In Toronto Canada on a morning talk show broadcast nationwide, the host was speaking with a nutritionist.

"Okay everyone," Kevin Parsons said while smiling into the camera, "We have Andrea Wilson with us and she's here to tell us about the dos and don'ts of eating a healthy breakfast before rushing to the office."

"Thank you Kevin," Andrea said as the camera switched seamlessly to her.

She was standing behind a kitchen counter mock up complete with a toaster, a loaf of whole grain bread, a fruit cup and a carton of eggs.

"You know," she began with a beaming smile, "Eating a healthy diet can seem to be so difficult. We're all so rushed and frantic every morning, it can sometimes feel like it's impossible to take in foods that promote a healthy lifestyle. Well I'm here to tell you how wrong that impression is."

"Quite right Andrea!" a deep bass voice intoned from seemingly nowhere, "It seems that mankind has forgotten many of the lessons we taught them in their youth, including a proper diet."

As the nutritionist and the host looked around in confusion and two of the camera operators jiggered back and forth, the voice said calmly, "Over here."

Where no one had been previously standing, between two large ferns framing the large picture window that looked out onto Queen St, a tall figure appeared.

He stood over six feet. In appearance, his was the face of a very handsome man. His limbs appeared to be cast from virgin marble. His ancient style toga exposed his well-muscled arms and legs. He wore large gaudy gold necklaces, armlets that looked to be of the finest pearls and a laurel wreath on his head like a crown. There was also an ornate looking cloak thrown almost carelessly over one shoulder with rich looking bead and embroidery work along its hem. A gem encrusted dagger was thrust into an opulent looking sheath on his belt.

"Good morning Kevin!" he said with a deep bass laugh, "Please allow me to apologize for my uninvited appearance. We wanted to announce ourselves to the world in as harmless a way as possible."

As two men dressed in security uniforms approached the stranger warily, the floor producer waved them back as he looked on with wide eyes.

Kevin Parsons, the consummate professional, was off his guard for only a moment. By the time the camera refocused on him, he was wearing his game face. He smiled broadly and looked the intruder up and down before speaking.

"Well," he said with a self-deprecating grin, "It seems you know my name but we don't know yours."

The tall man laughed joyously and walked slowly toward the mock kitchen layout.

"You're quite right!" he said, "And for that, again, I apologize. My name is Ëa. I've been known by many names in my lifetime, but Ëa will do."

The nutritionist stood open mouthed and speechless with fear as the newcomer approached her.

"Peace child Andrea," Ëa said to her gently, "I mean no harm to you or anyone else."

The woman calmed a little but still stared with wide eyes saying nothing.

"Now child Kevin," he said he moved to stand beside him, "I'm sure you have questions."

"Yes I do!" Kevin said with wonder but with his broadcaster's smile firmly in place, "Am I right in assuming you came from the ship circling the planet?"

"Not quite correct," Ëa said casually, "I came from another ship currently orbiting your moon, though the ship circling your Earth is under my command."

Kevin swallowed nervously but retained his TV host persona.

"I suppose then," he said as calmly as he could muster, "The question all of us have is this. Why are you here?"

Before Ëa could answer, he cocked his head to one side and once more laughed out loud with that booming bass rumble.

"We have company," he said.

The street outside was suddenly filled with the noise of helicopter blades. Black-clad men wearing ninja-style body suits dropped into the street from zip lines. They carried automatic weapons and raced through the double-glass doors of the TV station. Before anyone on the crew could respond, a dozen soldiers burst into the room and advanced on the alien.

Screams erupted from the men and women in the studio and all of them but two cameramen scattered in all directions. One of the remaining cameramen focused on the special operatives advancing on Ëa. The other settled on the trio of persons on the stage; the TV host, the nutritionist and the stranger. To their credit, the crew in the producer's booth remained at their posts. The director spoke into the earpieces of the remaining camera operators calmly as he watched the scene play out.

"Peace my children," Ëa said in a soft voice as he held his right hand palm outward in front of him.

The men with guns suddenly stopped in their tracks. They appeared to be frozen in place.

"Peace," Ëa repeated gently, "We feared our presence would be met like this. I am here to tell you we mean no harm to anyone. I came to this television studio this morning so I could address the world."

"But," Kevin Parsons said nervously, "We only broadcast in Canada."

Ëa turned to him and laughed once more.

"Today you are broadcasting to all nations and in all languages of the world. I've come today to tell you why we are here," he said.

"Many of your years ago, indeed several millennia, and yet it seems like a short time to us, we left your kind here. We left because we realized you did not need our guidance anymore.

"We taught you from your childhood and gave you the benefit of our wisdom. In those days you called my people Annunaki. In my language that translates to from heaven to earth they came. After a time, it became apparent to us that you needed time on your own; time to grow. Just as a mother and father must allow their children to mature into their own, so did we leave you."

"What are you saying?" Kevin said with wide eyes and an almost child-like grin, "Are you saying you've been to Earth before?"

"Indeed we have," Ëa said solemnly, "We were here before we taught your kind to come down from the trees. In fact, without our help, it is likely you would still be in the trees."

-*-

The video broadcast was played and replayed for hours on end over the next several days. Analysts offered up their opinions and experts in biology, astrophysics and sociology were interviewed for even more hours. Many people, especially devout Christians, Muslims and Jews decried the entire episode as a prank at best, a satanic plot more likely. Military spokesmen from virtually every country in the world were consulted as well. Most of them were circumspect in their comments saying their respective governments were weighing their options. Some fiery individuals called for mankind to rise up and strike against these invaders before it was too late. Most urged for calm.

The following week, Ëa appeared out of nowhere on a BBC broadcast of the news. His sudden appearance and the message he bore was identical.

On later replays it was noted that he spoke with a perfect English accent, unlike the Americanisms he used on the Canadian broadcast. One of the Royal Family could not have done better.

Over the following days Ëa was seen on nightly news shows in Russia and in Australia. Again his language and accent were perfectly suited to the regions. In Moscow he spoke in flawless Kremlin-style Russian. In Canberra he spoke with the same Australian accent as did the national news broadcasters.

Three appearances on South American news shows were done in perfect Spanish or Portuguese. Broadcasts in Europe were held speaking German and French. In Beijing he conversed with the news broadcasters in perfect Mandarin.

 

Chapter II

The television appearances Ëa made captivated the people of Earth. Almost every person on the planet waited anxiously for the next materialization of the enigmatic stranger.

Max Copeland was one of the few people in the world not captivated by nor obsessed with the latest Ëa sightings. The recent loss of his wife Marie pushed virtually all thoughts of anything else aside. He found that his mourning period was interrupted incessantly with inattention as those he needed to interact with, funeral providers, insurance brokers and government bureaucrats, all seemed to be glued to the events surrounding the arrival of the aliens.

In his more charitable moments, he decided he couldn`t really blame them. After all this was a momentous occasion in mankind`s history. Who wouldn`t be absorbed in this kind of event? At the end of the day though, he was extremely frustrated. He just wanted to be able to bury his wife properly, to provide the kind of send-off she deserved after twenty years of marriage.

On Tuesday morning, almost a month since the arrival of the aliens, he woke up at seven. After some coffee and two slices of toast with butter and jam he tried calling the funeral director one more time. After the tenth ring he hung up and resolved to get this done today come hell or high water.

He got into his car and drove to the funeral parlor. It was only three blocks away.

The front door was locked; no surprise there since it was not yet 8:30. He went round to the back and found a service entrance. The door was unlocked so he went inside.

As he entered, the odor of formaldehyde and other chemicals permeated his sinuses. He blinked away the irritation to his eyes and walked through to the preparation room. He saw a stainless steel table larger than a tall man in the center of the room. There were a number of doors about two by three feet set into the walls at floor level, waist height and chest height along two walls. Max assumed these were the refrigeration units where the dead were stored until they could be made presentable for their funerals.

There was no one in the room.

He saw a door leading into the bowels of the building and went through it. As the door behind him closed he heard the faint sound of voices ahead. He followed the sound and found himself looking into an employee lounge. There was a large flat-screen television on one wall. Two people dressed in white lab coats were sitting on a large black leather couch, their eyes glued to the news broadcast on the TV. They both had coffee cups and sat with all the appearance of being completely unaware of their surroundings as the latest news story about the aliens droned on.

"Hello," he said conversationally.

At the sound of his voice, both the man and woman on the couch jumped and sent startled looks his way. Max felt an uncharitable wave of satisfaction when he saw that both of them had spilled their coffees. Their nice white lab coats were now stained a dark brown color from breast bone to waist.

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded.

He was about Max's age, approaching sixty with graying hair and wearing dark horn-rimmed glasses. The woman appeared to be in her thirties. At any other time he might have found her attractive with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and her own glasses eerily similar to her colleague's.

"My wife is in one of your chillers back there," Max said while pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, "She's been there for almost three weeks. Don't you think you guys could get her prepared for burial instead of watching TV?"

Both the man and woman turned a few shades of red. The woman looked away from Max and scurried to the kitchen counter set into the wall opposite the TV. She grabbed a cloth and went to the couch to clean up the spilled coffee.

"Now see here," the man said, his blush of embarrassment turning to a flush of fury, "You can't just walk in here like this! This is a funeral parlor! Have some respect for the dead!"

Max grinned humorlessly.

"Yes," he said quietly, "Some respect for the dead is just what we need around here."

He balled his hands into fists at his side and took a long deep breath, then exhaled it slowly.

"So have some respect for my dead wife and do the job you've been paid to do!" he hissed with barely concealed fury.

The man sputtered and his mouth worked without any words coming out. His face flushed to a deeper red and he looked down at the floor. The woman, now finished cleaning, walked over to where Max stood and gave him a sad smile.

"I am sorry Sir," she said earnestly, "You're right, we should be working on your wife and I apologize. We should be working on all of our clients. It was careless of us to become so distracted. Please come with me to the director's office and we'll sort this out immediately."

"Karen!" the man barked.

Max stepped forward and confronted the man face to face.

"Maybe you should go back to watching TV while she does your job for you," he said sarcastically.

The man blanched and stepped back from Max's rage.

The girl gently took Max's arm and led him to a stairwell opposite the employee lounge. Once on the main level, the linoleum floors and bare walls gave way to rich carpeted floors, sedate wood paneling and maroon colored wallpaper.

She took him to an office at the end of the hall and explained what had happened to a soberly dressed man sitting behind a desk. The man offered his apologies and immediately gave him a date and time, two days hence, to bury his wife.

Max couldn't help but notice the flat screen TV set in the wall opposite the man's desk showing the latest news about the aliens.

When he got home he sat down in front of his own TV but didn't turn it on. Instead he began to cry as he should have done weeks ago but had not yet had time for. He allowed his memories of Marie and his grief to overtake him for the first time since he sat and watched her die in her hospital bed over three weeks ago.

On Thursday he stood at her graveside with his eyes dry. He had cried it all out and now there was nothing left but to say goodbye.

-*-

'Marie is no longer in pain,' a ghostly voice in Max's dream quietly intoned, 'Her suffering has passed. It is now time for you to let her go.'

He shot up in bed gasping for breath. He blinked rapidly and looked around the familiar confines of his bedroom; the room he and Marie shared for the past twenty years.

After assuring himself he was alone, he sighed heavily. His forehead was clammy with sweat and his hands were shaking. He pulled his legs out from under the covers and let them hang over the side of the bed. When he was sure he was able, he stood. He shuffled slowly to the kitchen and pulled a can of soda from the refrigerator. He swallowed heavily twice and then sighed again.r"