The First Indigan

The First Indigan

Charles Kaluza

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Charles Kaluza

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Prologue

On August 6, 1945 at 8:15 AM an intense radio signal emanated from Earth and spread at the speed of light outward. On August 9, 1945 11:02 AM the second massive radio signal emanated from Earth as Nagasaki was destroyed by the Fat Man Bomb. The outward spread of the signature radio signals of the nuclear explosions were detected by small monitors in deep space. For 40,000 years these monitors had been silently listening for specific type of radio signal. The monitors responded by sending out a short coded message indicating that another civilization had evolved.

Chapter 1: Contact

Doc Jules had been drifting for about an hour when he first noted the roar of an approaching rapids. Wash-Out Rapids was the start of the white-water section of the river. The previous several days had been sedate compared to the series of four major rapids Doc Jules would face over the next few days. The solitude of the river had begun to work its magic and the memory of the phone call that had come, while waiting for his family to return home, no longer consumed him. Life as he knew it had changed when the caller informed him that there had been an accident: A minor rock slide in the Columbia Gorge had occurred just as his wife and kids were passing below the cliffs west of The Dalles while traveling from a volleyball tournament in Yakima. They had died almost instantly and with them, a large part of Doc Jules' life. As soon as the funerals were complete Doc Jules had left for the river. He was unable to face the return to his practice and needed the solitude of the river to make sense out of life. After several days in the wilderness he was beginning to feel alive again and looked forward to the challenge of the rapids. He beached his drift boat on the east bank just above the rapids and climbed up the steep slope to scout the rapids from above. The flash flood from the gully washer of a storm had shot boulders a quarter of a mile from the side canyon, and a dam had been created. The water dropped about 15 feet in a short 100 foot run and ended in a six foot standing wave. This wave had capsized many of the boats that had challenged it. With the aging of the dam over the last few years a channel had formed on the far right. Doc Jules decided to run the rapids rather than portage his boat and equipment around the rapids.

As he started down the rocky hillside, he noticed a game trail angling up and decided to follow it. The trail wound its way up to the top of the canyon walls. He was breathing hard and sweating from the exertion. He sat and rested on a rock outcropping. From this viewpoint the river was a silvery ribbon, and the rapids, which were so fierce up close, looked like white jewels. The sinuous curves of the canyon limited his view of the distance. He became conscious of the desert silence that had replaced the river sounds. As he sat and enjoyed the heat of the fall sun, the fragility of life kept creeping into his thoughts. His introspection was interrupted by a repeated whoosh-whoosh sound. He looked up to identify the source and realized that he was hearing the wings of a raven passing overhead. He tried to call the raven, but the bird was too busy to respond. Doc Jules told himself, I suppose that I should follow your example and get busy. I need to get my camp set up before nightfall.

Returning to his boat, he checked to make sure that all of his equipment was lashed down securely. He cast the boat off and used the oars to position the high pointed bow slightly to the right so that he could pull back into the center of the river after he passed the standing wave. The current began to pick up speed and the roar of the crashing water blanked out all other sounds. The rushing water sucked the boat into the trough and then pushed it to the edge of the standing wave. The boat pitched precariously at the edge of the wave which tried to draw Doc Jules into itself. He pulled hard on the oars and slid down the back edge of the wave and into the tailout of the rapids. His heart was pounding with excitement and exertion. He had challenged the river and had won the first battle.

Doc Jules let the river carry him downstream as he relaxed and ate a simple lunch. The bagels with salami and cheese made a satisfying meal that traveled well. Gordon Ridge Rapids was the next hurdle before he would reach his proposed camp site. As Doc Jules was unwrapping his apple he smoothed out the newspaper that he had used to protect it and read the headlines from last week's paper. He had ignored the world during the time of his personal tragedy and was unaware of current events. He was surprised to read of the tensions between South Korea and China, over some small islands. Apparently the presence of oil makes insignificant islands significant. Last week's news was current enough for Doc Jules, and he decided that he would try to stabilize his own life before worrying about the world as a whole. He knew that others had recovered from worse suffering and hoped that this trip would begin his healing process.

Gordon Ridge did not announce itself with the sound effects of Wash-Out Rapids. The entire river was squeezed into a 100-foot channel that wound itself through a quarter of a mile of basalt cliffs before allowing the river its freedom. The basalt was twisted and distorted. Sections of the cliff had exposed columnar formations. The basalt was formed into hexagonal columns which when exposed horizontally looked like a honey comb painted grey black, with each cell measuring 2 feet across. The vertical columns rose 30 to 40 feet above the rock shelf and had sections which had fallen creating the image of an ancient Greek Temple. The complex geometry fascinated Doc Jules and he did not notice the increased velocity of the river until he was swept into the mouth of the rapids. The entrance to the rapids was almost like a funnel which gradually drew him into the narrow confines. Maneuvering was very difficult. The boat had to be alternately moved from the left to the right in order to compensate for the current and avoid being thrown against the cliffs.

Doc Jules handled his boat well and began to relax when he saw the river straightening out and the rapids ending. It was the relaxation that was his undoing. The O'Shit Rock was waiting for him, and he did not see it until it was too late. The boat struck the rock on the right front and was instantly turned sideways. Doc Jules slid his weight to the downstream side shifting the boat's attitude just enough to keep the rushing water from spilling over the gunnel and swamping the boat. He was scared. The river had the power to crush his boat. At the very least, he would face a long hike out assuming that he was not injured trying to swim through the rapids. Doc Jules began to gently rock the boat, and the stern gradually began to pivot downstream. With the bow now facing the river torrents Doc Jules began to rock the boat more vigorously and the bottom inched its way off the rock. Doc Jules completed the run through the rapids backwards with his dignity bruised but with his equipment still dry.

The camping site that Doc Jules had planned on using was open and he eased his boat onto the shore just above Colorado Rapids. He set up his simple camp and ate a tasteless dinner of freeze-dried food. With the evening shadows Doc Jules' melancholy returned, and he began to recall the fishing trip that he had taken with his son just a few weeks prior. His son's joy was so intense that Doc Jules figured he had a new life long fishing partner. This memory deepened his melancholy. If only he had not taken the ER call, he would have been able to leave on the trip with his family. Even if he could not have prevented the slide, he would have died with them and not been left alone. Doc Jules arranged his fishing gear and dressed in his insulated waders. As he moved into the river current the water pulsed against his legs almost as if it was a beating heart. The throbbing of the river rushing against him reminded him of the fragility of life. He thought about ending his pain by simply laying down in the cold river and allowing the current to carry him over Colorado Rapids. The boil of the rapids would engulf him, and his suffering would end. The thought of darkness and non-existence as a means of escaping the intense hollowness that was so painful, seemed almost logical.

He slowly moved downstream, his feet automatically finding their way amongst the rocks and his fly casting covering the water without conscious input. The roar of the rapids was deepening and the current beginning to speed up when the fly drifted behind a submerged boulder. The summer steelhead had moved up the river, returning to the spawning grounds of its birth. It was using the shelter of the boulder to rest when it spied the brightly colored fly moving along the surface. The fish rose and grabbed the fly before rushing back to its resting spot. The jerk that Doc Jules felt on the line initiated a reflex hook setting motion. The fish responded by leaping out of the water and rushing across the river. The line peeled off the reel despite Doc Jules's attempt to slow the fish by palming the reel. The fish then turned upstream allowing Doc Jules to regain some of the line. The respite was short and the fish turned and headed downstream. The combined force of the fish and the current was more than Doc Jules' footing allowed for. He began sliding on the slippery rock shelf toward the rapids. The power of life this fish represented inspired Doc Jules. He made the subconscious decision to go forward. He told the fish, You fight with your whole being to continue your journey while I contemplate giving up. You're right, life is lived by giving your all to complete the journey. I do not think my journey is complete and my destiny is not yet fulfilled. I too must fight to move on.

The fish was winning and Doc Jules was being drawn into the rapids. Reducing the pressure on the fly pole would probably allow the fish to reach the main rapids. It would be difficult or impossible to turn the fish in the fury of the rapids. In desperation,, while he fought for stable footing, he released most of the pressure on the fish, allowing almost all of the remaining line to stream off of the reel. Once his footing was secure, he again applied pressure to his reel and gradually stopped the fish. He was amazed that the leader held and the hook did not tear free. He very slowly began working the fish upstream, gradually reclaiming first his backing and then his fly line. The fish was getting tired, but the heavy current prevented him from landing the fish until it was completely spent. Doc Jules carefully backed up, gradually gaining improved footing and safety. He eased the fish into the shallows and removed the barbless hook. He supported the fish admiring the beautiful blending of the red sides with the silvery back. He apologized to the fish saying, Sorry for interrupting your journey. Thanks for teaching me about not giving up. I should be able to get on with my own journey now, even if I do not know where it is leading. When the fish was rested, he released it, to return to its primordial journey.

Doc Jules returned to his camp feeling more at peace with himself and life. His sleep was a little more restful with the nightmare of watching the mountainside give way awaking him only once instead of repeatedly. Breakfast seemed a bit more tasty than it had. Doc Jules loaded his equipment and cast the boat off into the current. He rowed across the river to take advantage of the morning shade and fished below the Wagonblast Cliffs. The challenge of fly fishing tended to clear Doc Jules mind and his melancholia lifted a little more.

As the morning shadows were being worn away by the rising sun, civilization was fighting to restore peace. The earth had been assaulted halfway around the globe. The mushroom cloud that arose over South Korea was answered almost immediately by corresponding clouds over North Korea and China. The fragile peace had been broken and the force of the atom had been released. The entire world was being placed at risk because of a regional dispute over energy. Normal government functions were halted across the globe and emergency protocols instituted. The avoidance of a spreading nuclear war was of absolute necessity to the survival of civilization. A temporary truce was called, and both sides of the dispute blamed the other for the hostilities. People everywhere began to prepare for the worst. The strong signature radio signals of the nuclear explosions radiated outward from earth with the force of a photo flash in a darkened room. In a few days the signals were picked up by those listening to the earth with a protective interest. Unfortunately the signals continued their outward spread.

Doc Jules was completely oblivious to the crisis the world faced and was content to deal with his personal crisis. The fishing was fantastic, but the catching was slow. As the sun crept over the canyon walls Doc Jules decided to move on. Colorado Rapids had a stronger standing wave and was potentially more dangerous than Washout Rapids, except for the fact that the river was wide enough to avoid the toughest water. Doc Jules lined up his boat on the right side of the channel and let the current grab him and drag him into the fury of the rapids. The boat pitched violently on the edge of the standing wave, but was spit out on the right side. The boat bounced through the harmonic waves below the large standing wave, the spray giving Doc Jules a good washing. The adrenaline rush was awesome. After the turbulence subsided, Doc Jules bailed out the boat and realized he was smiling.

As the day wore on, Doc Jules found a camping spot below Grasshopper flats. He again made camp on the west side of the river in order to take advantage of the evening shadows. The evening meal was eaten and Doc Jules headed upstream to fish the Ledge Hole. He slowly worked his way down the ledge to the tailout of the hole. A large boulder sat at the top of the V that the current made before the chaos of the rapids began. Like the evening before, a steelhead had chosen to rest behind the boulder. The fly drifting overhead stimulated the feeding instinct and the fish rose and took the fly. Doc Jules had been watching the fly drift behind the boulder and was thrilled to see the fish actually take the fly. The hook set was automatic and the fish rocketed into the air. In one spectacular leap the fish succeeded in dislodging the hook and depriving Doc Jules of the challenge of the fight. Doc Jules knew that he had set the hook too soon, based on the sight of the fish engulfing the fly. He had not waited for the fish to turn, allowing the hook to embed itself. Doc Jules swore at himself for screwing up the hook set, but he was not really unhappy. The power of the fish and the thrill of watching the fish take the fly were joy enough. He returned to camp to face his last night on the river. He slept fairly well and for the first time since the accident, did not awaken to his own screaming as he tried to warn his wife of the rockslide. He was no longer thinking of allowing the river to engulf him in order to hide from his pain. The hurt was deep, but Doc Jules felt he could handle the grief.

The morning came with a cold grayness and fog. Doc Jules had never seen fog in the desert before and was amazed at the chill in the air. He knew fog was composed of microscopic drops of water which have a high specific heat. This made fog extremely effective at transferring heat from his body to the atmosphere. This academic knowledge did not change the gloom that he felt in his heart or the sense of foreboding that the conditions produced. He had planned on trying the Ledge Hole again, but decided to move on downstream. The rowing would warm him. Rattlesnake Rapids was the most technically challenging rapids on the lower river because the channel crosses from the right to the left midway through the rapids. Failure to crossover throws you over a ten foot boulder which would easily capsize the boat. Sounds were funny in the fog and landmarks hard to spot.

Doc Jules did not spot the landmark cliff on the right side until it was too late to change his river position. He entered the rapids too far to the right and rowed as hard as he could to crossover. The roar of the water again blotted-out any other sound. In almost slow motion Doc Jules saw the boulder coming at him. He dug his oars in and pulled as hard as he could. The boulder pinned the oar between itself and the boat. Doc Jules felt the snap of the oar handle rather than heard it. The sudden release of pressure threw him backwards. This managed to shift the weight in the boat enough that the stern slid off of the side of the boulder preventing the boat from capsizing. The waves managed to partially fill the boat with water, but he still floated. Doc Jules sat back up and realized how lucky he had been, and was reminded of the old adage: It's better to be lucky than good. The boat drifted into the back eddy below the rapids and Doc Jules released the anchor. It took awhile to dry up the boat and dig out the spare oar. He realized that he was getting cold and took the time to dig out another layer of clothes. He had not taken the time to double seal his dry bag and was upset to realize his sleeping bag was wet. Being wet and cold without a dry sleeping bag made return to civilization necessary. He stowed his gear and resumed rowing. The activity warmed him only a little and his discomfort made ending the trip more tolerable. Moody Rapids seemed almost tame compared to the fury of Rattlesnake Rapids, but it still had enough energy to again throw water onto the now very chilled Doc Jules. The river widened below the rapids and the challenge of the river was over. He arrived at the takeout at Heritage Park about noon and was surprised to find it vacant.

The short walk up to the parking lot was disconcerting because of the lack of people. He was even more surprised to discover an empty parking lot. The shuttle service had not delivered his Jeep and trailer as per the arrangements. Doc Jules walked back down to the ramp uncertain as to his next step. He just sat on the edge of the boat and watched the river flow by. After an hour or so, a pickup with a large well drilling sign on the side, drove up to the ramp. The driver just sat at the top of the ramp and stared at the river. Doc Jules walked slowly up to the truck. The driver had thin grey hair and eyes that had seen much too much sun. His Irish complexion was showing the effects of the summer sun and his nose the effect of too much alcohol. Doc Jules hailed him with a hearty hello and the driver nodded his response. Doc Jules began to explain his predicament.

The driver interrupted him by asking in a raspy voice, How long you been on the river?

For the past week.

The driver nodded and said, Git in and I’ll give you a ride to the put in.

Doc Jules began to express concern about his equipment but the driver told him not to worry. Doc Jules appreciated the serious look on the driver's face and climbed in. He held out his hand and introduced himself as Don Jules. The driver shook his hand and said, Pat Murphy. As they headed up the road, Pat began to explain, The damn North Koreans have started a nuclear war in Asia. Doc Jules could accept the war as a reality because of the article he had read about tensions between China and Korea. When Pat began to explain, Then this here flying saucer is discovered heading toward earth from behind Jupiter. Doc Jules began to question Pat's sanity. Pat continued, Folks have quit doing everything. My well drilling work has dried up because people fear for the future.

As they crossed the bridge over Sherars Falls, Pat slowed to watch the salmon and steelhead fight their way up the falls leaping from pool to pool. Both were both quiet for several miles as Pat drove toward the Beavertail put in. Just before turning in to the boat launch area Pat said, Jules is not a common name. Was it your family that got killed in the rock slide?

Doc Jules was surprised that Pat would know of his tragedy. Pat said, I feel partially responsible for the loss of your family.

Doc Jules asked, How could you be in any way responsible?

Pat replied, I had run for county commissioner on the platform that diversion of the highway from beneath that cliff was the responsibility of the county. I got tired of the campaign and ended up losing a close election that I should've won.

His sincere apology for what he considered a personal failure brought tears to Doc Jules eyes. Pat reached into his pocket and removed a small metal flask which he offered to Doc Jules. The offer was so genuine that he took the flask and tipped it back taking a small swallow of the liquor. It seared his throat and brought more tears to his eyes. Pat took the flask back and managed a very large swallow himself, which did not seem to affect him. He wished Doc Jules good luck and again offered his condolences. As Doc Jules climbed out of the truck, he shook Pat's hand and said, I accept your apology, and thank you for both your assistance and your caring.

As Doc Jules climbed into his jeep, he felt overwhelmed by both the news that Pat had given him and the kindness that had flowed from the gruff old man. He contemplated how his species could, on one hand, kill each other with weapons of mass destruction, and on the other hand, provide each other with the support and caring that Pat had shown. His decision to attack life fully was taking on new dimensions. Doc Jules changed into the dry clothes that he had left in his vehicle, and drove thoughtfully back to the take out. He loaded the boat onto the trailer and secured his gear. The trailer and boat tie-downs were checked again. He headed for home. The highway had very few cars on it, and military vehicles seemed to be everywhere. Doc Jules turned on his radio and was greeted by the same buzzing sounds that he had heard the last time he tried to use the radio. He promised himself that he would take the time to get the radio fixed. He stopped at the first exit in The Dalles and picked up a newspaper. As he stared at the headlines his disbelief dissolved and the significance of the events began to sink in. Doc Jules headed home wondering how his life journey would unfold.

Chapter 2: The Visitor

The monastery sits on the side of the rolling forested hills overlooking the small village and agricultural valley. For almost 500 years this Spanish monastery has maintained its role as the head of the spiritual and academic life for both its members and the surrounding communities. The stone monastery walls are connected directly to the small university and the majority of the university professors are monks of the abbey. Brother Simon has lived and worked at the monastery for 22 years. The Rule of St. Benedict guides his life, and it gives him the freedom to contemplate the mysteries of genetics. His studies of genetics involve actual visualization of the three-dimensional characteristics of the DNA structure. He relies on his innate ability to visualize this structure to characterize the probable function of specific genes. He uses technology as a supplement rather than a primary tool in his studies. This remarkable ability has propelled an obscure monk to the forefront of theoretical genetics despite his isolated location and limited research budget.

Brother Simon was enjoying the simple evening meal in the monastery dining room. His almost bald head and dark brown habit made him inconspicuous amongst the other balding heads and brown habits. The calmness of Vespers still enveloped him and the rule of silence added to his sense of peace and contentment.

In contrast to this scene of peace, the citizens of Seoul, South Korea, were awakened to the blaring sounds of the air sirens. Only a few minutes of warning were provided. It was a crude rocket, but it was sufficient to deliver the weapon. The nuclear warhead was a uranium 235 device that was slightly larger than the weapon which devastated Hiroshima. The warhead exploded at 500 meters of elevation over the center of Seoul. The nuclear reaction produced an initial temperature of several million degrees Celsius. The fireball expanded rapidly producing a shock wave and very destructive winds. The temperature of the fireball still exceeded 5000 degrees Celsius when it struck the city. Everything organic, including the people, within 2 km. of the center was immediately vaporized. They were the lucky ones. People three km. from the center who looked up at the rocket received massive burns to their faces destroying all of the skin and non-bony tissue. The heat melted their eyeballs which drained out of their sockets, creating the appearance of living skeletons. As the characteristic mushroom cloud continued to rise and spread, almost 100,000 lives were consumed by the initial explosion and the resulting fires. An equal number of people would die over the next several weeks from complications of the burns and radiation poisoning. It was impossible to provide any semblance of modern medical care to the multitudes of injured. Minimal first aid was the best the surviving physicians and nurses could do. This horror was quickly replicated in North Korea and China as South Korea retaliated.

The pocket computer that Brother Simon kept in his large habit pocket began vibrating, signaling an incoming emergency message. The signal was ignored until the Abbott offered the closing prayer and officially ended the meal. As the other monks began visiting, Brother Simon removed the computer and accessed the message. As he read the message from a research colleague in South Korea, he turned pale. He made his way to the side of the room where the Abbott was visiting. Tapping the Abbot on the shoulder Brother Simon motioned him to the side. He read the message to the Abbott. The message was short. It simply said, Seoul has been struck by a nuclear weapon.

The Abbott asked, How did they send the message if communications have been disrupted by the nuclear explosion?

Brother Simon explained how the monastery had adapted short wave radio and a computer to access the Internet without utilizing the standard telephone system or the satellite cellular system. This system was slower but allowed worldwide access to information, even from the Order's most remote monasteries. The Abbott announced to those remaining that there was an emergency in Seoul and everyone involved with communication was to report to their emergency stations. The remaining monks were asked to offer prayers.

The Abbey's worldwide communication network began to gather a reasonably accurate picture of the crisis in Asia. Long before the news media had collected enough information to make an announcement, the isolated Abbey had obtained the pertinent information from its monasteries in Korea and China. The horror that the earth faced soon became evident to everyone as government statements and news reports came out.

Within 48 hours of the nuclear weapon discharge, an amateur astronomer announced on the internet that she had discovered a new radio signal near Jupiter. She was participating in the SETI program (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence). Instantly the whole world was involved. When professional astronomers began to study the newly discovered signal they plotted its course and realized that it was a powered object which was headed for earth. This news was taken off of the Internet and made headlines across the world. The end of the world announcements became even more common. The world stock markets were all but closed, not because of a selling panic, but because nobody was paying them any attention.

As The Visitor from Jupiter came closer to the earth, traditions at the monastery continued as always. The times of prayer and silence continued. The daily routine was followed and only during free time and conference periods was The Visitor discussed. Speculation as to the nature and intent of The Visitor became the primary focus of the media, churches, schools and government. Brother Simon stayed abreast of the developments using his network of scientists scattered across