May 2029, the Equator, Eastern Pacific Waters
Greece’s shipping industry was highly developed, and there was more than one family known as “Shipping King.”
Mandy Petkova’s second marriage was to the heir of one such “Shipping King.”
Mandy loved collecting art and was also devoted to philanthropy. Since there were ships in the family, the Central American Art Exhibition and Charity Auction she initiated was moved aboard the Silver Beach cruise ship.
The Silver Beach sailed along the equator toward the Galápagos Islands, six hundred nautical miles west of Ecuador. Its destination was an uninhabited island in the archipelago called Genovesa Island, also known as Tower Island.
The auction at sea had already been going on for several hours, and the generosity of nearly a hundred guests had brought in a considerable sum for charity.
The final lot was a Mayan pottery jar unearthed on the Yucatán Peninsula. It was an everyday utilitarian vessel, not especially valuable as an artifact, and its body was cracked, broken, and missing a corner. For that reason, Mandy had placed it last.
Unexpectedly, the bidding for this Mayan pottery jar was extremely fierce. After several rounds of competition, the hammer price reached an astonishing one hundred thousand dollars.
The successful bidder, determined to have it, was Mandy’s distinguished guest, Michael Max. Sitting beside Michael were Daphne and her father, Professor Braun.
Mandy and Michael’s old acquaintance Martha walked over, and Mandy said to Michael:
“Thank you for your generosity. The Mayan Indigenous Homeland Rescue Project, ‘Living Fossil of Civilization,’ has received another gift of kindness.”
Michael answered with a smile, “It is my honor to be able to help the Maya indigenous people, and my good fortune to obtain such an exquisite collectible.”
“So official? Michael, if you always answer questions like that, this investigative reporter is going to be out of a job!” Martha teased him wittily.
Everyone introduced themselves to one another.
Martha was the chief investigative reporter of the world’s largest media company, Tiangao Media Group, as well as the ex-wife of the group’s owner, media tycoon Andek.
Martha had an Asian face, sharply arched brows, and was sociable, humorous, and quick-witted, moving through high society as easily as a fish through water. Her writing was incisive, her nose for news keen, and she often broke explosive stories.
Martha’s way of handling matters was far beyond that of ordinary people. Five years ago, she had introduced her close friend Mandy’s mother, Eileen Petkova, to her own ex-husband and boss.
Thus, the molecular biologist and authoritative diabetes expert Eileen Petkova became media tycoon Andek’s fifth wife.
Eileen Petkova was not merely a molecular biologist. She had been born in the former Soviet Union and came from a family with deep roots. Her first husband, Mandy’s biological father, was the grandnephew of the famous World War II commander Marshal Petkov.
At that moment, on the top deck of the cruise ship, Eileen was showing her antique violin to a renowned musician.
Amid the pure tone and beautiful melody of the violin, the cruise ship slowly approached Genovesa Island.
“Ladies first.” Mandy and Martha took Daphne by the hand, greeted Michael and the professor, and boarded the first shuttle boat.
The violin did not stop playing. Daphne recognized the pieces as works by Kreisler, the outstanding twentieth-century violin composer and performer.
One was “Love’s Joy,” and the other was “Love’s Sorrow.”
Michael and Professor Braun sat side by side in the second shuttle boat.
Professor Braun was a senior executive at the Liangguo Space Agency and also the head of the aerospace division of Liangguo’s Project T.
Half a year earlier, Project T’s director, Mr. E, and Professor Braun had approached Michael, permitting Michael’s company to participate in Liangguo’s top-secret civilian program based on Nikola Tesla’s superluminal wave theory.
The professor asked, “Is this island the site you’ve chosen for building the space elevator?”
“My dear professor, this is the place. However, ‘space elevator’ is only what we say to the outside world. The heavenly ladder I intend to build will not be merely ninety thousand kilometers long, but one hundred eighty thousand kilometers high.”
The professor was startled and asked, “One hundred eighty thousand kilometers—that would be enough to receive the full wavelength of superluminal waves. Are you planning to build a superluminal wave power station on this equatorial island?”
Michael briefly introduced his plan.
Michael Max was both an adventurer and a man of action capable of transforming ideals into reality. He intended to turn the ideal of “ultimate freedom,” which everyone yearned for, into a feasible engineering plan.
His plan was:
To achieve freedom of the body through interstellar migration;
To achieve freedom of consciousness through brain-computer integration.
Professor Braun looked at this future son-in-law and said thoughtfully, “Neither of these ideals can do without enormous amounts of energy.”
“Yes. Space industry needs energy, and artificial intelligence and brain-computer integration need it even more. Insufficient electricity has already become the greatest obstacle limiting the improvement of computing power,” Michael said. “Moore’s Law for chips has reached its end. It is no longer possible to optimize computing power exponentially. Using superluminal wave energy appears to be the best choice.”
The professor stated cautiously that building a power station on the island would require risk assessment and a report to Mr. E.
The shuttle boats docked one after another, and everyone gathered together.
Beneath the enormous temporary tent, Michael once again became the focus of everyone’s attention.
The conversation between host and guests naturally centered on the exhibition and the auction items. Michael asked Mandy:
“Mandy, you’re so interested in Maya culture. Is there any special reason?”
“Haha, now you’ve asked the right question. As for the answer, let my dearest mother reveal it.” Mandy playfully led Eileen Petkova to the center.
Facing Michael, Eileen told everyone a distant and rather legendary story.
Eileen was born in 1957 and lived in the former Soviet Union for more than thirty years before later emigrating to Liangguo. Her father-in-law was Marshal Petkov’s nephew and had served as a regimental commander in the marshal’s forces during World War II.
In April 1945, Regimental Commander Petkov led his troops in the Battle of Berlin and was responsible for capturing the Imperial Library, which the Germans had turned into a fortress. Under him was a company commander named Captain Mirov, and among the items Mirov seized was a unique nineteenth-century printed document concerning Maya culture.
As everyone knew, after the Maya civilization was discovered, the world was amazed. It possessed mysterious pyramid temples, exquisite carvings and paintings, as well as precise astronomical observation records and advanced mathematical knowledge.
Regrettably, the Maya script remained undeciphered for a long time. Numerous linguists had no clue how to approach the seemingly heavenly Maya script. Some scholars even suspected that the patterns carved by the Maya onto stone slabs were merely symbols used for rituals and held no actual written meaning.
Heroes are not found only on the battlefield!
Captain Mirov, a retired soldier who knew nothing about archaeology or philology, relied on intense curiosity and indomitable perseverance to devote himself to the study of Maya stone-slab rubbings.
Ten years later, in the 1950s, Mirov published a paper proposing an entirely new approach to deciphering Maya writing. He believed that Maya script was a combination of pictographs and phonetic writing. This research finding stunned the academic world.
Building on Mirov’s work and through the joint efforts of linguists, eighty percent of Maya writing has now been successfully deciphered.
“In 1979, at my wedding, I met Uncle Mirov for the first time,” Eileen continued. “It was also the first time I learned that aside from writing, Mirov had also conducted in-depth research into the Maya calendar and mathematics.”
Mirov had once successfully persuaded the Soviet government to launch a project based on his findings. After more than twenty years, however, it was abandoned in 1979 due to lack of funds. That became his lifelong regret.
“It was under these circumstances that I received a special wedding gift from Uncle Mirov.”
Eileen opened a box, took out a large envelope from inside, and said:
“Mirov said that the Soviet Union lacked the strength to transform his research results into reality. Perhaps the Maya people’s scientific concepts were too far ahead of their time, and humanity might have to wait one Maya Short Count calendar cycle—that is, fifty-two years—before technologies and needs capable of matching their scientific ideas would emerge.”
Eileen walked over to Michael and handed him the envelope. Michael looked puzzled. Eileen said, “Uncle Mirov entrusted me to give this letter to someone who needed it and could make good use of it. I believe you are the most suitable person he spoke of.”
“Oh, it won’t be a full fifty-two years until 2031? The time hasn’t come yet.” Michael was even more bewildered. He noticed that the envelope was sealed with red lacquer.
“My wedding date was August 22, 1979. On August 22, 2031, it will be exactly fifty-two years. I suggest that you open it then,” Eileen said solemnly to Michael.
Daphne leaned closer curiously to the envelope in Michael’s hand. She noticed the Russian on the cover of the envelope, and because “Maya” was a universal word, she guessed that the title meant: Maya Notes.
There were two more lines of Russian below, but Daphne could not understand them. She asked:
“What do those two lines of Russian mean?”
Eileen and Mandy, mother and daughter, translated almost at the same time, proudly and loudly:
“For the Soviet Union, and for all mankind!”
&
Chapter-closing cento poem:
Facing far-off Fangshan, its shadow seems level. — Tang, Zhou Pu
From jade halls, a cinnabar stair rises higher still. — Tang, Huang Tao
Gradually, though one ascends into the clouds, — Song, Yuan Xie
Only upon reaching the summit does one know the world is low. — Tang, Zhiliang