Евгений Попов – PROPHECY (a collection of speculative fiction) (страница 2)
And at that moment, in the basement of another, new library a thousand miles away, candles were lit. The remaining members of Gehenna stared at a new message received from their intelligence network: in Oregon, the birth of a child had been registered—a child whose energy signature… could not be analyzed. The number 666 that had flashed on the check back then was not a period, but a comma.
“The prophecy has been fulfilled,” whispered the new Elder. “He has come into the world not as a warrior, but as a child. And we failed to stop him. The true Messiah is born. Again.”
They extinguished the candles, plunging the room into darkness. But the light they so feared was already burning in a small house by the woods, in the eyes of a child who was just beginning his journey. And once again, the darkness retreated—to wait. To wait for its hour.
Beauty Will Save the World
Love Will Save the World
The Hunt for Gods
Prologue
Great words often take on a life of their own, separate from the one who spoke them. Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky placed into the mouth of Prince Myshkin the idea of the saving power of beauty, infusing it with deep philosophical and spiritual meaning. A century later, a pop singer would perform a simple and heartfelt song declaring that "Love will save the world." Who could have imagined that these two truths, separated by centuries, would converge at a single point—a point where the very existence of humanity would hang in the balance?
Part 1. The Shadow from Delphi
1900, Greece, Delphi. The Excavation.
The sun blazed mercilessly over the sacred stones of Delphi, searing the eyes of the archaeologists with dust and history. The work had been ongoing for five years, but fortune seemed to have abandoned this place forever.
"Sacrebleu!" The cry of Léon Dubois, the lead archaeologist from France, echoed among the ruins of the Temple of Apollo. He knelt in the dust, carefully brushing away centuries of grime from an oblong object discovered in a hidden chamber beneath a column's base.
His colleagues rushed over.
"Léon, what is it? Another shard of an amphora?"
"No!" His voice trembled with excitement. "It's a scroll! A copper scroll! Look at the dating!"
In the laboratory tent, where the scroll had been transported with surgical care, tension reigned. After hours of cleaning and conservation, Léon, donning white gloves, began to read aloud, his voice faltering with emotion. A copyist stood nearby, making precise drawings.
"One year after the great stone passes by Earth, in a year ending with the number 30, the ancient gods shall return to the world…" Léon raised his eyes to his silent colleagues. "Gods? Is this a metaphor? A prophecy of the Pythia, recorded in 103 CE."
"Read on, Léon!" his assistant urged.
"…and they shall destroy humanity unless they are stopped by Beauty and Love, sent by Hera, the Queen of Gods. Delphi, the Pythia."
Silence fell. Someone laughed nervously. Someone crossed themselves, despite being an atheist.
"The 'great stone'…" mused a young German archaeologist. "Perhaps a comet? Or an asteroid?"
"And 'the year ending with the number 30'?" another added. "1030 is long past. 1130? 1930 hasn't arrived yet… Or perhaps 2030?"
Léon rolled up the scroll and gazed at it wearily. The discovery was sensational, but unsettling. He decided not to disclose it fully. Five years later, in 1905, the scroll was quietly sold at a private auction to the British Museum for an enormous sum, where it ended up in a secret vault.
1960, USA, Langley. CIA Headquarters.
CIA Director Allen Dulles flipped through a folder stamped "Top Secret. Project: War of the Gods."
"Report," he said dryly.
"Sir, the 'Delphic Scroll' has been acquired from the British Museum. The price was ten times the original, as you ordered. Analysts confirm it is not a forgery. We are establishing a special division to study everything related to myths, legends, and artifacts that may have connections to real beings who called themselves gods."
Dulles nodded, studying photographs of the scroll. The Cold War was at its peak, but this carried a scent far older and more formidable than Soviet missiles.
"If they return, we must be ready. We must know how to kill a god," he whispered, closing the folder. "And this… Beauty and Love?" He smirked. "A rather weak weapon for the CIA. Forget it. Prepare strike teams."
Part 2. Awakening on Olympus
2030, The Abode of the Gods (a dimension beyond reality).
Zeus, the Thunderer, awoke to a ringing sound. It was not the clash of battle or the roar of thunder. It was the persistent, almost comical chime of an alarm—a magical chronometer he had set just in case, sensing trouble a millennium ago. His temples throbbed as if from a severe ambrosia hangover.
"Ohhh…" he groaned, massaging his temples. His vast body, woven from lightning and aether, barely obeyed him. Everything before his eyes swam. He gazed around the majestic hall, now steeped in strange silence. The gods slept. Athena, bent over a scroll; Apollo, with his lyre frozen in his hands; mighty Ares, snoring in a corner…
Zeus rose with difficulty, approached the sleeping Hera, and kissed her forehead. She did not stir.
"Curse it…" he rasped. "This is the work of the Chaos god from the neighboring universe. His potion. If not for my alarm, I would have slept for eternity."
Summoning his strength, he snapped his fingers. An electric charge raced through the halls, touching each of the twelve Olympians and their consorts. They shuddered, gasped for air, and awoke.
"To council!" Zeus thundered, and the echo of his voice dispelled the last remnants of slumber.
When the gods, still blinking and stretching, gathered in the throne room, Zeus fixed them with a heavy gaze.
"Who…" his voice was filled with icy fury, "has been governing our universe for these two thousand years while we slept?"
Artemis, goddess of the hunt, had already immersed herself in the divine scroll—an artifact that recorded all events of creation.
"Father…" she said quietly, growing pale. "It is the god Yahweh. He was appointed to rule by our old 'friend'—the Chaos god. It was… a trial for us, decreed by the Supreme Judge from the Mega-Universe. Yahweh sent his son, Jesus, to Earth about two thousand years ago. He was executed by humans, but his teachings spread. Now Yahweh and Jesus are effectively the only gods worshipped in the human world."
"And we have become myths… fairy tales," Ares gritted through his teeth, clenching his fists.
"What shall we do?" Zeus turned to Hades, the grim lord of the underworld. "Report, brother."
Hades, whose face was always pale, now seemed to radiate darkness itself.
"Annihilate," he said, his voice like the grinding of stones. "I descended into their world through dreams. It is mired in sin. Corruption, terrorism, wars, greed, perversion of nature—everything we once punished is blooming in full force. Purge. Erase. And create a new humanity, free of vices. Like a gardener uprooting a diseased tree."
Hera, queen of the gods, always proud but also the protector of family and marriage, rose.
"I think otherwise, Hades. Destruction is the cruelty of the weak who cannot correct. To teach a lesson—yes. To punish an arrogant nation—perhaps. But to erase everything? We swore an oath to be their protectors, even if they have forgotten our names."
Zeus raised his hand, calling for silence. A compromise was quickly reached.
"Very well. Hades, you shall descend to Earth. Your task is to activate the most powerful volcanic vent. Yellowstone in North America, in that country that calls itself the most powerful. Partial destruction will serve as a lesson. Then we shall see."
Hades smiled grimly and dissolved into the shadows.
Part 3. The Hunt for Gods
April 30, 2030, USA, Langley. CIA Headquarters.
Robert McCaw, the new Director of the CIA, a descendant of those analysts from the 1960s, stood before a screen displaying a blinking red marker over a map of the United States.
"Gentlemen," he began without preamble. "Object 'Apophis' passed Earth in 2029, as the scroll foretold. Today is April 30, 2030. According to our intelligence, contact with the 'guests' has already occurred."
He clicked a remote. A man's face appeared on the screen.
"Peter Meyers. Three days ago, our cameras captured a beam of light descending from the sky and entering this man. Since then, his behavior has changed drastically. He purchased a ticket to Yellowstone and reserved a table at the Golden Torch restaurant for this evening."
Two operatives stood before him: Ellis Rogers, a slender blonde with steel-gray eyes, and John Donovan, a stocky brunette with the cold gaze of a veteran of conflict zones.
"Ellis, John," McCaw addressed them. "You are Operation 'Divine Will.' Your mission: infiltrate, capture, or neutralize Peter Meyers if he proves to be the host of a hostile entity. We need data on their combat capabilities. The fate of humanity depends on this, people. There's no time. Seismic activity has already been detected in Yellowstone."