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 Anton Parks
The Ğírkù Chronicles
Volume 1
 The Secret
of
the Dark Stars
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Original publication 2009
English translation 2020
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Any reproduction of this text, whether it be partial or
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 Official website of the author :
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Interviews,
Articles and information,
Free music streaming,
Artworks and goodies,
are available on the official website of the
author!
 By the same author, available in
English at Editions Nouvelle Terre
(paper version ; original edition)

Secret of the Dark Stars - Ğírkù

Chronicles 1 :
http://editionsnouvelleterre.com/boutique/h
ome/43-the-secret-of-the-dark-stars-
9782918470328.html
The Secret of the Dark Star is a rare
book, a strange, extraordinary, timeless,
fascinating book. We find in the same book
the richness of a novel, a historical and
above all spiritual coherence that can make
sense of the world surrounding us. A small
miracle!
“The Secret of the Dark Star is a rare book, a strange,
extraordinary, timeless, fascinating book. We find in the same
book the richness of a novel, a historical and above all
spiritual coherence that can make sense of the world
surrounding us; it is a challenge. A small miracle! If the
presentation of the book reminds us of an epic narrative of
science-fiction, and certainly, this book has a real epic ‘breath
of wind’, The Secret of the Dark Stars examines the reality of
our most distant past, the oldest civilization that gave birth to
today’s society, all to make sense of our present. The work of
Anton Parks remains totally original, immersing the reader in
a ceaseless ballet of questions and answers, playing with the
roots of our most fundamental myths, the decoding of ancient
and modern languages as part of an epic saga. Fiction or
reality? It is up to the reader to decide. Anton Parks describes
the functioning of the power struggles between the so-called
“Gods” of the Egyptian and Sumerian pantheon by expanding
the picture into a huge galactic bestiary, a highly complex and
fascinating battle between multiple extraterrestrial
civilizations whose identity is coded.”
- Alain Gossens (Karma One) - Karmapolis.be,
October, 2005
“The work of Parks remains unclassifiable and raises
essential questions: what was happening on Earth before the
coming of Man? What preceded and caused the advent of
human civilizations? The author of the Secret of the Stars
Dark fascinates thousands of readers around the world with
his epic stories about the origin of human civilization. Parks
just possibly restores to us our true genesis, the one which
appears in the Sumerian texts, which, as a clairvoyant, he
deciphers in a straightforward manner. Hang on, this is
genuine Parks!”
- Nexus France, No. 43-44, Spring-Summer 2006

More information on the official website:

https://www.antonparks.net/le-secret-des-
etoiles-sombres-t1
https://www.antonparks.net/en-g-zeitlin
 By the same author, available in
English at Editions Nouvelle Terre:

Eden - (essay) :
http://editionsnouvelleterre.com/boutique/h
ome/44-eden-the-truth-about-our-origins-
9782918470335.html
In EDEN, you will see that the first
chapters of the Book of Genesis present
only a greatly edited version of what was
inscribed on these ancient tablets. The
Garden of Eden, the Serpent, and the Fall of
Man are presented here in a completely new
light, proving that these episodes were
altered to the point of incomprehensibility
in the course of later rewriting…
“[…] Eden, is the result of Anton Parks’ decoding and
translating Sumerian cuneiform texts from clay tablets, dated
to C. 2800 BC. […] These texts, he concludes, are the source
material for the first chapters of the book of Genesis and
would have been accessed by Jewish scribes during the
captivity in Babylon C. 597 to 539 BC. Parks compares the
cuneiform text translations with the biblical text and shows
that serious misinterpretations were made in Genesis. […] His
rigorous analysis puts established beliefs into question”.
- Nexus UK, vol. 21, n°4, June-July 2014
“Anton Parks, writer and specialist in Eastern cultures, has
devoted himself to the study of written documents considered
the oldest of humanity. By translating several tablets decorated
with cuneiform signs missed by most specialists (Kharsa?
tablets), dug up more than a century ago on the site of Nippur,
(Iraq), Parks was able not only to retrace the story of our
origins, but also to demonstrate that the Book of Genesis was
only an unfortunate and distorted copy of such an event …
essential reading.”
- Magazine Science et Inexpliqué No. 34, July-
August 2013
-

More information on the official website:

https://www.antonparks.net/eden-fr-en
 Already available in eBook:

T0 - Dream of Eternal Time -“Book of

Nuréa”- Ğirkù Chronicles 0
Our civilizations’ founding myths are
rooted in History. The Gnostic texts of
Egypt teach us that the Great Goddess, the
Heavenly Mother, contemplated the
firmament for a long time in an attempt to
get a glimpse of the Divine Light. Driven by
her hopes and dreams, she left her idyllic
world of the Pleroma (fullness) and dove
into the infinite at the heart of the
unfathomable regions of time and space.
Her journey would to lead her to the source
of eternity, that she wished to draw closer
to, in order to draw inspiration from her
Creative Power.
Carried away by the flow of the cosmic
Abyss and dazzled by the Living Light, she
was dragged towards a destiny that forged
the foundations on which human
civilizations still rely today. At the end of
her infinite journey, the Mother-Goddess
fell down onto an implacable world located
light years away from the Pleroma from
which she came from.
In The Dream of Eternal Time, Anton
Parks guides us through the fascinating
discovery of Life’s founding and nourishing
forces. His revelations expand our
understanding of the genesis of the
Universe and our Solar System, in the light
of events that are largely anterior to the
coming of celestial beings, as it is claimed
in many of our traditions. This
transformative work sheds light on our
ancestral conditioning: the origin of time
and the black holes find a new and
revolutionary meaning!
 EDEN : The Sumerian Version of
Genesis (Essay)
Beginning in 2006, Anton Parks took
Sumerian lessons with Don Moore (1929-
2010). Eden is his second essay, for which
he will have spent thousands of hours
deciphering and translating, between 2008
and 2011, a series of Sumerian tablets
which relates the episodes of the Garden of
Eden and the Fall of Man (Fault), which are
at the origin of the first chapters of Genesis,
although these were abundantly transformed
by their multiple editors.
 The book Eden restores the true story of
the gods and the Garden of Eden, as the
Sumerians knew it and as this episode was
transmitted from generation to generation
for millennia.
“[…] Eden, is the result of Anton Parks’
decoding and translating Sumerian
cuneiform texts from clay tablets, dated to
C. 2800 BC. […] These texts, he concludes,
are the source material for the first chapters
of the book of Genesis and would have been
accessed by Jewish scribes during the
captivity in Babylon C. 597 to 539 BC.
Parks compares the cuneiform text
translations with the biblical text and shows
that serious misinterpretations were made
in Genesis. […] His rigorous analysis puts
established beliefs into question“.

Nexus UK, vol. 21, n°4, June-July 2014

 Coming soon in English:
Ádam Genesis - Ğirkù Chronicles 2
Awakening of the Phoenix - Ğirkù
Chronicles 3
Eden (Essay – Ebook)
The Virgin’s Testament (Essay – Ebook)
The Last March of the Gods (Essay –
Ebook)
The Chaos of origins (Essay – Ebook)
Corpus Deae (Essay – Ebook)
“From Pleroma to Matter” – the
exclusive Anton Park’s biography
Hanael Parks :
Queen’s shadow – The Mistress of the
Temple Chronicles 1
Disgrace & Redemption – The Mistress
of the Temple Chronicles 2
 Table des matières
Dedication:
Preface:
Author’s note:
Part One Heir to the Ušumgal
In Barbélú’s Dream
Back from the Depths of the Ages
Nalulkára and its Abzu
Unulahgal, the Capital of Nalulkára and the
Makers of Life
The Ušumgal Permit the Creation of the Anunnas
Ninmah, the Grand Priestess of Nalulkára
MAMÍTU-NAMMU, THE GREAT PLANNER
OF URAŠ
Part Two GENESIS OF THE NUNGAL AND THE
ANUNNA
The Creation of the Nungal
Showdown with Abzu-Abba
Mamítu and Sa’am
THE MISTRESS AND HER PUPIL
The Heirs to the Abzu
Trial by the Fire of Aš - “The mystery of the tree
and the fruit”
The Secret of the Amašutum and the Meaning of
the Spider
An Embarrassing “Mixed-Breed”
The Establishment of the Mardukù and the Fifty
ME
Journey through a Star Gate
 The Anunna of Dukù
The Signing of the Mardukù
The Time of the Development of Grain and Cattle
An’s Fateful Plan
Part Three REVELATIONS AND HOSTILITIES
The Tension Begins
At the Crux of the Dimensions: the Nature of the
Gina’abul KUR and KI
Foreshadows of a Terrible War
The Book of Adam, part 1, excerpt from chap. 27(1)
A Ğèš in order to become king
The Divine Enthronement
The Sacred Union with the Mother-Goddess
The Secret of the Ubšu’ukkinna
Disorder and Dissent in the Divine Assembly
The Fall in the Dream of Eternal Time
Part IV - Archives and Decoding
The Mythological Significance of the Tree
(augmented version)
First interview with the author for the website
Karmapolis.be and Nexus Magazine France, n°43, 44
& 45 (2006)
GLOSSARY Gina’abul-Sumerian and derivative
terms
BIBLIOGRAPHY of the texts cited at the
beginning of each chapter (in order of appearance;
web resources giving where possible)
The Secret OF THE DARK
STARS
 © 2005, Anton Parks, All Rights Reserved
© 2015, Anton Parks, augmented edition
© 2020 Anton Parks for this edition
www.antonparks.net
e-mail: [email protected]
First published - Mars 2005 in Canada (Edition Nenki)
Second published - November 2007 in France (Editions
Nouvelle Terre)
Cover design: Hanael Parks & Anton Parks
Photographs (museums and sites): Eric Jarry and Anton
Parks
Chart and illustrations by Anton Parks
Illustrations: Anton Parks
Illustration of the caduceus: Mahdi

All rights reserved for all countries and languages

Reproduction of the contents of this book by means of any

kind is forbidden without prior written permission.
 Dedicated to the memory of Alain
Gossens
“There is something shattered in this world, something that
exudes a odor of gangrene, rancid, antediluvian problems like
a huge unresolved conflict
at the very heart of human consciousness.”
Alain Gossens
 “I know your dwelling place in the Tiau (Netherworld)… I
know your names, your caves, your secrets. I know what you
live from… I call you by name.”
Ancient Egyptian Book of Caverns, Section 1
“I know you—oh, you gods! I know your names, I know
your forms, known to no one else. Now I am become a god
among you and I am crowned a god among Men.”
Egyptian Book of the Dead, chap. 79, 5-6
“Now that security has been improved to permit new
excavations, we may get evidence that advanced societies
lived in this region [Iraq] much earlier than we had
supposed… There is no doubt that a decade of research in Iraq
would make it possible to rewrite archaeology… There is
simply a phenomenal amount of history in this country and
much that remains to be discovered. This will be done in time
and we will have to completely rethink what we know.”
Dr. John Russel, archaeologist and professor of
Archaeology at the Massachusetts College of Art, Boston –
Iraq, March 4, 2004 (Reuters)
“Impoverished uranium in the form of aerosols will
permanently contaminate vast regions [of Iraq] and gradually
destroy the genetic future of the populations living in areas
containing resources* that the USA needs to control in order
to establish its supremacy.”
Leuren Moret, international radiation expert
(in Morphéus, no. 22, July.-Aug. 2007)
* We will see that the control of resources may involve
more than energy and quick profits
TABLE OF CONTENTS
- Dedication
- Preface by Alain Gossens
- Author’s note
 Part One –Heir to the Ušumgal
In Barbélú’s Dream
Back from the Depths of the Ages
Nalulkára and its Abzu
Unulahgal, the Capital of Nalulkára and the Makers of Life
The Ušumgal Permit the Creation of the Anunna
Ninmah, the Great Priestess of Nalulkára
Mamítu-Nammu, the Great Planner of Uraš
 Part Two – Genesis of the
Nungal and Anunna
The Creation of the Nungal
Showdown with Abzu-Abba
Mamítu and Sa’am
The Master and Her Pupil
Heirs of the Abzu
Trial by the Fire of the Aš
“The Mystery of the Tree and the Fruit”
Tiamata’s Misfortune and the Secret of the Amašutum
A Burdensome “Half-Breed”
Elaboration of the Mardukù and the Fifty ME
Journey through the Star Gate
The Anunna of Dukù
The Signing of the Mardukù
The Time of the Growth of Grain and Livestock
An’s Baleful Plan
 Part Three - Revelations and
Hostilities
Initial Tension
At the Heart of the Dimensions: The Nature of the
Gina’abul KUR and KI
Reflections of a Horrible War
A Penis for the King
The Divine Enthronement
Sacred Union with the Mother-Goddess
The Secret of the Ubšu’ukkinna
Disorder and Dissent at the Divine Assembly
The Fall in Imagery Time
 Part Four - Archives and
Decoding
- The Mythological Significance of the Tree
Sumerian-Gina’abul Glossary
Bibliography
 Dedication:
During the layout of this final version of the Secret of
the Dark Stars, it seemed important to me to dedicate this book
to my friend Alain Gossens, who passed away on July 7, 2010.
The Secret of the Dark Stars turned our respective lives upside
down and marked the beginning of a great friendship, which
ended the day of his tragic disappearance. Alain devoted more
than four years to promoting volumes 1 and 2 of the
Chronicles and also my first essay, the Testament of the
Virgin. Co-creator of the karmapolis.be site, for which he
produced numerous in-depth articles, I owe him most of my
interviews published between 2005 and 2009 in various
mystery and alternative science magazines. From this
friendship flowed naturally a great bond thanks to which he
confided during five long years rich in exchanges and
emotions.
◆◆◆

Already since his childhood, the holocaust obsessed

Alain tirelessly. Without telling him his own story in detail, his
father, René Gossens, a survivor of the Breendonk and
Mechelen camps, had more readily accustomed him to the
general realities of concentration camps than to the fantasies of
Disneyworld. René Gossens, of Jewish origin, was recruited as
a musician in the camps, which is why he survived there[1].
The SS recruited Jewish musicians to form orchestras to
entertain their evening. Alain’s father hardly spoke of his
personal history to his son, but rather of the general
phenomenon of extermination camps.

Around the age of 10, Alain feverishly reconstituted

prison camps with small soldiers and wooden palisades
supposed to represent a fort of Custer’s 5th Cavalry fighting
against the “red skins.” Instead of finding himself in the vast
deserts of Nevada fighting the Apaches or the Sioux, he
relived through his miniatures, the Stalags and the deportee
camps from war films like “The Great Escape”, the small
palisades and wooden towers of the fort serving as fences and
watchtowers for this imaginary Treblinka … By thus initiating
him to these gloomy realities, René Gossens, miraculous of the
camps, certainly wanted to warn his son against certain part of
humanity that is capable of taking pleasure to exercise
absolute power over others. Largely influenced by these tragic
experiences, Alain felt the need to focus his attention and
future research on power and totalitarianism, the phenomenon
of trauma and the links between executioners and victims.
A year later, around the age of 11, a doctor prescribed
Alain a narcotic cough suppressant to treat bronchitis, a drug
containing morphines. In front of its incredible effects for his
young mind, Alain hid the box which he gradually consumed
during 15 days instead of the 3 prescribed by the doctor.
Euphoric by the beneficial effects of “a total absence of
worry”, Alain certainly kept in mind that a small pill could
create both a euphoric state and a “favorable recklessness.”

At 15, the death of his father marked the beginning of a

long descent into hell, he told me. He dabbled in tobacco by
retrieving the package left in his father’s pocket on the day of
his death and, in just one year, began to do more and more
drugs of strength.
When he left the University, where he took journalism
courses, he was hired in an advertising agency as a creative,
but very quickly, a group of friends took him to Cameroon
with a team of cooperants with, for mission, to create a
television channel. Alain was involved on the spot in a
narcotics case, set up from scratch by the authorities. At 21, he
came to prison and told me twice about this experience which
deeply traumatized him. He did not suffer ill-treatment, but
witnessed abuse which he preferred to keep silent. This
experience triggered a turning point in his life: the end of
innocence! This personal experience, he confided to me,
enabled him to verify for himself the statements of his father:
“the fable in the belief and in a natural goodness of the human
race.” Alain finally got out of prison on political intervention.
Expelled from the country, he contacted the firm that
employed him and was sent to Thailand to produce two
reports, one on Thai boxing and the second on the trafficking
of precious stones in the Golden Triangle. There he went back
to drugs, learning about the IV and hallucinogens. When he
returned to Belgium, he only had one report in his pocket on
the two. He then went on to several odd jobs quickly lost as
his life was focused on finding drugs in the streets.

It then took him several extremely difficult years to

climb back up and regain hope. He then became addicted to
TV, Coca-Cola, chocolate, tobacco, books and comics which
took up an enormous place in his gigantic library. In the mid-
1990s, when he was starting to stabilize, Alain ended up
taking the path of journalism.
◆◆◆

Alain Gossens thus worked for more than ten years in

Brussels as a legal correspondent for the Belga press agency.
He investigated at length social facts, particularly the Dutroux
affair and the hypothesis of pedophile and satanic networks
involving prominent political figures. During his work as a
legal columnist - a position he says he did not choose - the
daily attendance of courts and tribunals, put him in contact
with the world of victims (acts of violence, robbery, ‘sexual
abuse…), because “we must not hide our faces, the courts of
our democratic societies can dysfunction as sadly as in a
vulgar banana republic. The reason? Simply because ‘there
are crazy magistrates, drunk with their little powers and
bathed in wickedness and stupid pettiness “, he liked to
specify.

Possessing great intellectual capacities and a keen

sense of contemporary geopolitics, Alain shared his passion
for the mysteries of life and origins in his numerous reports.
He was above all a precursor by being one of the very first
journalists to write this kind of articles and dispatches for the
written press. Yet, he confided to me, for some of his
colleagues and former friends, he was classified more as a
deranged journalist, ex-junkie, only interested in futile things
that waste time like UFOs, Aliens and conspiracies… He
probably suffered from it.
Alain Gossens leaned at length on the subject of secret
societies. He revealed to me that there were, according to him,
a number of more or less official business circles, well
established, of “philanthropic” associations and ultra-elitist
power circles whose objectives and methods closely resembled
secret societies exercising, therefore, hidden power outside the
democratic system. He also reported to me that these financial,
political, scientific and military interest groups had an opaque
functioning escaping any democratic control and whose
decisions and the content of the meetings remained top secret:
hazy areas of power where trafficking was exercised.
influence, sometimes illegal collusion of interests. Following
his investigations and reading thousands of pages of
declassified official documents, Alain plunged into the
inextricable intrigues of CIA programs, behavior control
through drugs, torture, sexual abuse and trauma in general. He
could not go back having put his finger on his sensitive point,
his obsessive area…

His investigations also allowed him to demonstrate that

the United States was secretly investing in the field of applied
military technology: intelligent weapons (biogenetic, wave,
particle) or drones capable of making autonomous decisions,
artificial intelligences leading to on super-soldiers, weapons
capable of having a profound and lasting influence on the
mind and behavior of a human being, super-virus etc.
Alain also believed that the war of the mind would not
only take place in military arsenals, headquarters and on
maneuver fields or in the research and development
laboratories of multinational arms companies. It would also
develop in the civilian sector, in very strange psychology and
psychiatry laboratories, in sects, religious groups, in mafia and
criminal groups, terrorist organizations and even in certain
circles of families with very honorable appearances. This
battlefield located in our brains would therefore have as
protagonists very strange actors: cold psychiatrists and
exhaling death (sic John Rappoport, US journalist
investigating the matter), American intelligence agents,
members of satanic sects, pedophiles, drug traffickers, mafia
and show business people, but also and above all a growing
number of victims whose testimonies attract very little
attention[2].

This same fear of the loss of control would have

motivated the wars of religions, the world wars, the great
“political” conflicts of the Cold War, the war against terrorism
that we are currently experiencing. The use of weapons with
“new effects” known as non-lethal were for example used on
an experimental basis against rioters in Ireland by the British
army or in Iraq by the American army: weapons employing
“incapacitating” sounds (infrasound) or particular waves -
microwaves, extremely low frequency aka ELF which can
confuse, demoralize people’s minds or make them sick or even
kill them[3].

Along with his extensive research, Alain worked at

length on the subject of mind control in all its forms. He was
preparing a book on all these themes, called Contrôle Total, to
which he devoted several years of work in vain since the
manuscript was recovered at his death and “put in safety.” I
regret that this book, of which I had to write the preface,
remained in a cupboard.
◆◆◆

Alain took a close interest in my work out of the

conviction that one or more “theocratic” groups would have
created religions and Mind Control to “canibalize” the human
mind. He believed that this gigantic theocracy, installed on
Earth, was able to control certain “weak souls” during physical
death. They would be pseudo gods, or even a group of souls
influenced by them, feeding on the energy naturally released
by the human species …

During our meetings at his home or in Paris, every two or

three months, Alain was always happy to share our
knowledge, to discuss subjects such as the consistency of the
human soul, he liked to laugh, listen to good music … Our
walks made him fantasize and travel to this old Paris of films
from the 40s and 50s and jazz clubs that he appreciated so
much thanks to his father. We would stop in bookstores or
record stores and engage in lively discussions in a café on
subjects much more fascinating than everyday life imposed on
us and also far from fundamentalist stupidity.

Moving around Paris was for him, each time, an epic

journey worthy of a Tintin comic strip, but Alain was able to
overcome his fears, knowing all the good that this trip would
bring him. Normally, he preferred to hide at home, far from
the world and human conflicts. If he wasn’t working at his
computer, he would dream in front of his TV or immerse
himself in tons of books.

Alain’s investigations have led him to learn of the

worst and to rub shoulders with the darkest part of the human
soul. His dark outlook on mankind was undoubtedly at the root
of his loss of hope for a better humanity. He survived, his files
brought him little money for a colossal job. Cornered by the
administration, he decided to change his life in April 2010 in
order to stop writing and these investigations. At that time,
Alain was looking for a “normal” job and had provided
himself with new clothes to go to his interviews. But the
change was too drastic for him and he perhaps couldn’t stand
it.

On Wednesday July 7, 2010, his lifeless body was

found at the foot of the Saint-Hubert church in Boisfort, a few
steps from his home. The official thesis claims that he jumped
from the steeple and, personally, I believed at length in this
possibility. His death, however, contains several unexplained
points to this day. After his death, a mutual friend told me that
Alain had four different telephone lines; he felt watched and
threatened. Important files were deleted from his computer
immediately after his death. Several works in progress and
very important documents, slated for publication in the press,
inexplicably disappeared from his home. Strangely, his body
does not undergo any autopsy, as provided for any
investigation in a suicide or murder. None of his close friends
were contacted by investigators. There was no official
investigation… Suicide or murder, the doubt still remains
today.

Alain addressed these words to me a few months

before disappearing: “I no longer know how to address people
so that they realize that these subjects are primordial: they
show me how much man can be, at once perverted by
selfishness, power, but also by indifference to the suffering of
others. I beg you, Anton, even if you have moments of
discouragement, fatigue, worry about to the outside world,
continues the work, finishes this series at all costs. I have been
waiting for a work for a long time that mixes an essay,
historical, philosophical and theorized exploration side with
experience and context. “
During our last meeting, Alain showed me a Japanese
animated film that he particularly liked and that he watched
regularly: “My neighbor Totoro.” Overflowing with poetry,
humanity and tenderness, this puzzlingly simple film was just
like him. Alain expressed to me his desire to live in such a
universe where peace and children of all ages coexist. I
sincerely wish that his wish be granted …

Alain, your support gave me a lot of strength and will

nourish me for a long time.
Peace to your soul my friend, wherever you are.
Thank you with all my heart and for eternity.
Anton
 Preface:
When Anton Parks’ first book came into my hands
shortly after its publication in 2005, I have to admit that I was
more than a little skeptical and biased. In order to retrace the
presumed history of extraterrestrial beings involved in the
genesis of humanity, Anton Parks based himself on bizarre
states of consciousness that had given him access to an
amazingly strange and remote world. These were personal,
and so necessarily subjective experiences. Because part of me
is basically conservative, or—to put it more elegantly and
disingenuously—due to my professional conscience as a
journalist, I have always been wary of stories about
channeling, remote viewing and astral travel. Unless… unless
the author happens to have his feet on the ground and can
establish a solid connection between his personal experiences
and the facts of Science, whether “hard” or “soft.” In reading
his first and second volumes, I saw that this was the case with
Anton Parks.
I had already read several books on “Gods” from outer
space and their intervention in the creation of our planet and
humanity. There were, for example, the books of Zecharia
Sitchin on the Anunnaki, and those of Erich von Daniken and
Robert Charroux on “ancient gods” of extraterrestrial origin,
but they seemed too abstract, unreal and disembodied. I was
also familiar with David Icke’s—in my opinion, somewhat
crazy—idea that a race of extraterrestrial reptilians played an
important part in past and present events on our planet. I had
also read R.A. Boulay’s remarkable book on the abundant
traces left by reptilian beings among most ancient
civilizations. And so I was very curious to see how Anton
Parks would deal with the topic of a reptilian presence in the
history of the human race. What I discovered in the course of
my reading was fascinating. All the more so as the author had
undertaken a parallel task of linguistic decoding that
emphasized the importance of Sumerian and of an even more
ancient source language in the etymology of words and
concepts among ancient or so-called primitive peoples, like the
Hopi or the Dogon of Mali. I learned that the source language
from which Sumerian was derived had also been the basis for
words describing major phenomena and divinities in these
traditional cultures. Moreover, Parks describes these ancient
Sumerian “Gods” in a much richer and more realistic way than
Zecharia Stichin. Indeed, where Stichin presents the Anunnaki
as a thoroughly centralized and hierarchic society, Anton Parks
reveals an infinitely more complex reality. In fact, the
Anunnaki were just one caste of warrior-colonists of the
reptilian type among a host of reptilian “races” of diverse
origins: races with a male, female or double polarity, races of
extraterrestrial planners and creators of life—and therefore
consciousness…
When I finally put the book down, my mind was abuzz
with thoughts and questions, and I knew that I would have to
reconsider and reorganize my personal cosmogony more
critically. This book had unleashed a minor earthquake inside
me, and I wanted to contact the author immediately. I called
him the next day and was quite relieved to find myself talking
to a reasonable, calm and introverted person who was willing
to deal with my barrage of questions. This discussion provided
the content for the interview below. Later, I conducted more
interviews and had many occasions to meet him personally.
These encounters strengthened my impression that I was
dealing with a fully sane, somewhat withdrawn young man
with moments of brilliance and weakness. In other words, a
well-balanced person who was striving—passionately and
dispassionately—to understand how this crazy world works
and what makes it turn. In this respect, Anton Parks differs
from the rest of us. It is important to know this, I think,
because it helped me to understand his intentions better and to
see if we had a common frame of references; that is, if we
shared our way of seeing others and the world around us.
At the time, I was very interested in issues of mental
conditioning and control exercised by religions and sects in the
history of civilizations. In his books, Anton Parks shows quite
clearly how a caste of reptilian extraterrestrials and warlords
of male polarity was able to play a key role in the genesis of
the Judeo-Christian religions, which are predominantly
patriarchal, messianic and apocalyptic. Parks shows that the
figure of an angry male God punishing a disobedient humanity
and saving the righteous was no innocent occurrence in the
history of our world.
The other highly fascinating and atypical aspect of his
book was precisely its subjective side. I mean the way the
author relates events from a past so remote that it constantly
eludes our understanding, and he does so according to a
twofold point of view that we can clearly sense. There is the
“human” point of view of Anton Parks, the writer, with the
emotions that he probably could not ignore when he went into
the details of his characters, the countless races of extra-
terrestrial gods, the extraordinary places they inhabit, the
planets and hearts of planets in distant solar systems, etc. Then
there is the point of view of his non-human, and even inhuman
“hero,” who is both familiar and alien to our understanding,
and whose complex motivations and personality we discover
as the story unfolds. Similarly, we gradually discover the
leading position that he will occupy in the pantheon of the
“Gods” of Homo sapiens sapiens.
His avatars include the Sumerian Enki of many names, the
Egyptian Osiris and his son Horus, Lucifer, the bearer of light
damned by the scriptural religions, and Prometheus, who
defied the power of the patriarchal gods in order to bring
knowledge to that amazing creature known as Man. In the eyes
of some of the “Gods,” Man is a pitiful wretch of limited
intelligence, and a dangerous scoundrel and knave as well.
Meanwhile, there are other “Gods” who know full well that
the human project was deviated and that it held the seeds of a
miraculous program for life and consciousness. This is the
mystery that we are invited to discover in human terms that
describe extraterrestrial realities and perspectives, something
that our present cognitive faculties are very hard pressed to
grasp.
The most astonishing thing of all is that the existence of
the Anunnaki was confirmed by witnesses interrogated in the
“Whistleblower” investigations, which involved military and
scientific eyewitnesses of extraterrestrials and UFOs. I was
stunned to find out, for example, that an officer like Bob Dean
could conclude, after 40 years’ experience with military
personnel who had had such contacts, that the Anunnaki
mentioned in Sumerian documents “existed, were involved in
our genesis… and are surely still present among us today.”
These eyewitness reports (still relatively ignored by the French
media and UFO experts) are interesting because they show
that some members of the military-industrial complex are
striving to shed light on what this very complex is trying to
conceal from the public. Some people believe that there is a
campaign of disinformation, and if that is true, then it is a
widespread, premeditated, concerted and highly organized
manipulation (for there are a great many witnesses). It means
that this disinformation effort hides an even more unspeakable
or bizarre reality than the one that is being suppressed. One
way or the other, these shadow witnesses cannot be ignored. It
is entirely possible that Anton Parks’ contribution will
ultimately be confirmed by UFO-logical events.
Many archaeologists and scholars working on
Sumerian texts have been stunned and puzzled by the
consistency of the multitude of accounts narrating the arrival
of these “gods” from the depths of the cosmos in their chariots
of fire to create colonies on earth. They wanted to see in them
metaphors and parables symbolizing the eternal struggles
between the destructive and constructive impulses of man.
Others like Boulay and Sitchin have decided not to interpret
these texts but to take them for what they are: narrations of
real and fantastic events because they are incomprehensible to
the weak understanding of man of that time. to the deployment
of such technology, of such power. Anton Parks in a way
continues the work of Sitchin and Boulay and pushes them
much further. The author, very close to the conceptions that
the Gnostics had of the world, explains to us how and why
patriarchal and highly hierarchical power and belief systems
have taken the reins of our civilization.
◆◆◆

How did Anton Parks come into contact with such a

quality of so coherent information? How is he able to have
such a penetrating vision of the Sumerian language and the
chronicles of this ancient civilization, appearing out of
nowhere as if it had made an inexplicable and unprecedented
technological leap? This part of the question alone deserves a
whole book. Anton is cautious about this aspect of the book
but he makes no secret of it: since the age of 14, he has been
possessed and crossed by visions of worlds, galaxies,
civilizations and beings. strange. At first, he thought he was
crazy and then wondered if these were visions of an
improbable future …[4]
If the presentation of the book reminds us of an epic
sci-fi tale, and certainly this book has a real epic breath, The
Secret of the Dark Stars actually looks at our most distant past,
on the oldest civilization that would have given birth to our
current society, all to give meaning to our present. Moreover,
Anton Parks himself told us during a long interview: “The
present is not really my specialty. It is the past that I see.”
Because the incredibly precise vision that Anton has of this
past so distant sheds astonishing light on our present. It may
give us a glimpse of a better destiny if we lift the veil of the
manipulations and lies that cover this pre-biblical story that
has in a way shaped our perception of reality. This is neither a
novel nor an essay, this work transcends genres. Finding both
in the same book a romantic richness, a historical and above
all spiritual coherence which offers meaning to the world
around us is a challenge. A small miracle!

This book has a goal, that of showing us the existence

of a devastating mechanism, carefully hidden having for root
the law of the strongest and of a system which, moreover,
keeps us in the ignorance. A blanket ignorance, a sort of
neutral comfort that doesn’t make us want to wake you up.
And yet, we must get out of this comfort, of the incredulity
that could spring up in the bend of certain pages of this work.
You may even feel some form of fear and it is not about
arousing commercial, sensationalist, salesman, cinematic fear;
in a few words: an enticing fear. Even if, a priori, the subject
lends itself to it. Fiction, reality? The reader will choose.

Anton Park’s work therefore remains completely

original, apart, astonishing, plunging the reader into an
incessant ballet of questions and answers, playing with the
roots of our most fundamental myths, the decoding of ancient
and modern languages in the part of an epic saga.
Unbelievable? Perhaps, but the content of the book pleads for
its author. Thus, for those who are indifferent to this quasi-
initiatory and prophetic aspect, for those who refuse to believe
the astonishing inner adventure that led Anton Parks to deliver
this dense and detailed story to us, The Secret of the Dark
Stars remains an epic saga. which will delight lovers of
mysteries, fans of the “Lord of the Rings”, Dune or Matrix.
Because without a doubt, volume 1 of the Chronicles of Ğírkù
has a “Matrix” side when it touches the fact that we are
chained to a prodigious but frightening mystery. Will man ever
be able to free himself? And what is threatening him?
Alain GOSSENS (Karma One),
Investigative journalist and co-founder of Karmapolis.be
 Author’s note:
This complete, revised and completed edition of
volumes 1, 2 and 3 of the Chronicles of Ğírkù takes up my
original manuscripts, not reworked by the previous editors, but
nevertheless enriched with additional passages and additional
images. Key data received in May 2013, (see Dream of
Eternal Time - Book of Nuréa, volume 0 of Chronicles),
enabled me to disentangle information put aside over the years
and from previous editions.
Today, after careful consideration, the opportunity
presents itself to publish them for the first time in the light of
this new understanding to which I have devoted many hours of
reflection. Therefore, this definitive edition offers additional
information on the Mušidim and the famous Barbélú, founding
mother of the Gina’abul lineage.
The entire structure of the Chronicles is now
illuminated with a new light and the main characters
illuminated with an aura that is sometimes even unexpected.
Purists will be reassured, these new elements in no way disturb
the frame faithfully transcribed from the beginning. Nothing
has been deleted or modified, it is simply complementary
information whose integration brings, in my opinion, a better
understanding to all of the first three volumes of the
Chronicles of Ğírkù.
This long work of additions, and often even of
rewriting, allowed me to realize how complicated and painful
it is to rework on an old document that we thought to be
perfect when it was first released. The complete overhaul of
the Volume 1 Chronicles seemed to me much longer to carry
out than to write a new book. This experience also gave me the
opportunity to appreciate the progress made in more than 10
years, to compare my old style of writing and to readjust it
while preserving its original nature.
◆◆◆
 Some footnotes, originally placed in the first editions
of the Secret of the Dark Stars, have been moved to the Dream
of Eternal Time - The Book of Nuréa, such as the note
concerning Sophia (inserted in note 65 of Volume 0), the note
about the rainbow (carried over to note 89 of Volume 0), etc.
In view of the regular additions of this new edition, other notes
have quite simply been moved for obvious reasons of visibility
and comprehension.
As a reminder, the introduction to the Chronicles is
now in Volume 0, in its revised and corrected version. The
interview with Karmapolis.be (my first interview conducted
by Alain Gossens), published at the end of the Nouvelle Terre
edition, is not in this new edition since it is available on the
Internet via Karmapolis.be or antonparks.net.
I voluntarily cut the end of the story because of the
insertion of a decisive scene, long remained incomprehensible
in my eyes and therefore put aside until now. This addition
brings dizzying insights into the very nature of our world
resulting from the fall of Barbélú and an “imaginary” time.

◆◆◆

I have chosen to use footnotes because of the material

they provide for the understanding of this book. Putting them
at the end of chapters or of the book would have
inconvenienced the reader and, more importantly, deprived
you of the means to understand the complex ideology of the
“gods.” Although some footnotes may be quite long, I would
advise you to read them carefully, for the information has its
importance. The additional information appears where it is
needed for the comprehension of the text. This does not
exclude the option of reading these Chronicles in other ways.
The frequent referral to transcriptions and translations
from the Sumero-Akkadian language may seem tedious, but I
wanted to be as precise as possible, since the linguistic code of
the “gods” is presented here for the very first time. In order to
facilitate reading, it seemed necessary to give the definition of
many words of the language of the “gods” in this book: these
words come from the Sumerian, Egyptian, Nahuatl and Celtic
languages (e.g. Manx). There is also a glossary at the end of
the book.
I am fully aware of the impact of the information
presented in this series and the fact that it will call into
question many accepted ideas about the Ancient Orient and,
more especially, the history of evolution.
My readers will be able to judge for themselves. With
these Chronicles I have taken it upon myself to provide the
background necessary for a true understanding of the secret
ideology of the so-called gods referred to as the “Celestial
Bestiary.”
I have kept the terminology as coherent as possible in
order not to burden the reading, which is difficult enough
owing to the many Sumerian and Akkadian names and terms.
Please keep in the mind that each volume of these
Chronicles has its own specificity, yet is part of a whole that
will be revealed in the course of this series.
 “We have discussed many times in the Assembly.
I listened and heard fine words, but each other’s noble
words did not protect mine.
The specter of war brought us down here and our race
made
your world tremble on its foundations.
I remember all those speeches and the many broken promises.
Like a wound refusing to heal,
my heart is still charged with pain,
for this story resonates with me like a distant echo.”
Sa’am-Nudímmud-Enki-Ašár
Part One Heir to the Ušumgal
 In Barbélú’s Dream
“Be careful not to ignore me! For I am the first and
the last. I am the honored and the despised. I am the
harlot and the venerable. I am the spouse and the virgin. I
am the mother and the daughter …
It is I (the one) who was hated everywhere and the one
who was loved everywhere. It is I (the one) called ‘life’
and you (me) called ‘death’. It is I (the one) called “the
law” and you (me) called “the non-law”. I’m the one you
chased and I’m the one you got hold of. I am the one you
scattered and gathered … I am the one who is honored,
the one who is blessed, and the one who is despised with
contempt.
I am the peace and it is because of me that the war has
happened… I am the descent and it is towards me that we
will ascend. I am the sentence and the acquittal. I am
without sin, and the root of sin has come from me[5]“.
NH VI, 2 - Le Tonnerre, perfect intellect (excerpts).

Ұ
Ğírkù-Tìla Nuréa / Dili-ME-Ilimmu
In the name of the Peace of Gina’abul, I, Nuréa,
daughter of our sovereign Tiamata, I was mandated to our
Blessed Mother Barbélú. At the end of the Darígi ritual, I was
pulled out of my trance to reach the transparency of the air
where the source of our locked royalty was confined.
My Ugur crystal clutched firmly in my hands, a
procession of high dignitaries accompanied me to an ovoid
vessel of intense glow. His stormy breath capsized all my
senses. The flying device seemed to radiate an unusual heat
that radiated my face and every part of my skin. All perception
became so extreme that I overheated me from head to toe. An
unpleasant sensation seized my senses of smell and taste. A
brackish flavor emanated from the vessel, by regular impulse,
giving off bitter scents. An indescribable and humiliating
disgust for a seasoned pilot like me took hold of my whole
being. I perceived the slightest external effect as an offensive
that I had to endure and control. My ears were ringing
horribly. Wa, my faithful guide, reassured me and settled me
on a seat that seemed uncomfortable. The Kingú’s poison, still
present in my body, prolonged its unpredictable effects, he
confided to me. Nothing seemed the same anymore. As soon
as we left for the heights, I thought I could hear the slightest
sound, even the rustle of a shadow.
Where was our Blessed Mother hiding? The legend
said that his aura could shake the layman like the mountains. I
begged the Source of Origins to protect me from its searing
gaze. My brothers Abgal, direct sons of our Mother, were the
only Gina’abul who could endure her presence. No mystery
seemed to escape them as they braved the dark ages of the
Great War and well beyond.
Šáran, my niece whom I considered my own daughter,
was at my side. With her support, I implored again and again
the Source of all existence so that she would support me in the
face of the inexplicable. A murmur roamed the atmosphere of
our ship. An almost blinding light appeared from outside. The
crystal palace observed during my trip with the Namlú’u
resurfaced at the border of the visible horizon. I was landed in
a gigantic room whose supernatural aspect resembled a dream.
Weak, but well aware, I got up as best I could. Behind me, the
ship disappeared, enveloping itself in a pearly substance that
made it invisible to my reality.
I was finally behind the scenes of our Mother of the
Origins in time, far from aggressive looks and plots, in this
retreat where she took refuge in the interminable expectation
that she imposed on herself to thwart evil. Here, on the edge of
eternity, the eye glided over great colonnades of white marble
bathed in a diffused light that no affliction could have reached.
In front of me large mirrors followed one another in a
prodigious disorder, thus creating a sort of labyrinth that a
caressing voice invited me to cross step by step:
”You cross the unthinkable maze of reflections that
separates you from your origins. You are a massive star which
burns its last energies. You do not extinguish yourself for all
that. The radiation emitted by the last combustions drives the
gas out of your body, as gravity pulls matter towards your
center.”

I stepped into the infinite shimmer in search of my

destiny. Each mirror was oriented towards my lens, reflecting
the inverted image of psyches arranged further forward. The
mysterious voice continued its cosmological description:
“The force of gravity exceeds the effect of pressure. Your
heart, compressed by gravity, contracts and heats up. You
collapse into a much smaller star, into a Dark Star. Your
warming ejects the outer layers of your body in space.
Boulders of iron exceeding the size of the largest mountains
are reduced to grains of sand. You undergo the ultimate
Gibil’lásu (skin renewal). You now look like a huge hollow
sphere with a incandescent heart which turns on itself. Your
whole being is metamorphosed into a celestial forge whose
action transforms everything into fusion. Matter undergoes the
successive metamorphoses of the Great Work to produce
celestial iron for a few more thousand Muanna (years). “

An invisible vice was compressing me on all sides. I

crawled across the dazzling floor. The words recited from the
depths of this chaos of reflections seemed to play on my
condition. I was undergoing a form of initiation with the aim
of transforming myself into a Dark Star, ready to give life …
“Your core has finally emptied of all its energy. The
overwhelming force of gravity becomes irresistible. Your
molten heart begins to compress again, crushed by its own
weight. The moment remains fatal and irreversible. A series of
waves, shock pierces you right through. It’s the explosion. You
produce a luminous flash, a monstrous radiation which will
generate in one Udtar (one second) a billion times more
energy than the radiation of all the stars of our Galaxy. “

The voice came inexorably closer despite its

reverberation amplified by the marble colonnades and the
multiple mirrors. Not ceasing to observe the reflections of the
road to be covered in the psyches, I continued my movement
on all fours like a penitent. On the other side would be
Barbélú, our Mother to all.
“Your metamorphosis transforms you into an object both
massive and compact, intense with gravitational attraction …
You are now the darkest thing in the Universe: a Bùranna
(black hole). You train and retain everything that is find in
your perimeter, even the light. You attract the matter which
heats up and is dislocated in you. Time and space no longer
exist. Your belly is ready to receive life. You transform and
stretch matter into your breast to restore it to a new Universe.
“

A dazzling figure finally appeared in one of the

mirrors. I slowly crawled in his direction. In front of me was a
small staircase leading to a platform. Standing, majestic, and
above all colossal, the silhouette of Barbélú took shape in a
diffuse fog, as if ready to devour me. His voice, this time very
close, tore my guts:
- Don’t look at me yet, my daughter. Your gaze would not
stand it! Let your whole being get used to my presence.

I remained prostrate, face down, determined to listen

carefully to every word of the Mother of the Origins. She
spoke again:
- My Gina’abul children challenge the Source, as if to
constantly force it to manifest. I need you, Nuréa, to awaken
them. You are the only one who can fulfill this role. Can you
grant me this privilege?
- I am ready to assist you as best I can, O Mother.
- You must know that your body will have to bear a heavy
burden equal to mine.
- I am well aware of it, I continued, I bring you your Original
Light.

Head down, I reached out to hand her her old crystal:

- Well, I see that you carry with you my Ğírkù, itself broadcast
by your Abgal brothers some time ago.
- Ugur never leaves me. It comes naturally to you.
- Thank you for taking care of it. Keep it carefully until the
day you have to pass it on yourself. I will now clarify some
points. In the remote ages where I come from, our leaders
were certain to result from a perfect world where time does not
exist, according to this doctrine each of us formed it. We,
Mušidim, had just fractured it - our own time - without going
through any tests beforehand, without any simulation or
scholarly calculations. Simulations would in any case have far
exceeded the threshold of our knowledge of the time. We had
the right ships able to cross the limits of space-time and
withstand the effect of tidal forces gravitational of world
eaters, but we did not have the wisdom to perform this type of
experience. Our ancestors believed that without measurement
or observation, no connection to the experience needed to be
exposed. Those who passed through the Bùranna (black holes)
mutated and lost their immortality as well as part of the
knowledge of our origins. They were cut off from everything
by distance, just as much as by the horizons of the Bùranna.
Cut off from our time and from the source reality which
operates at the base of the tree structure of our creations, these
individuals, whom we call Kingalàm, imagined a society of
labor and exploration, with the objective of obsession to
discover the strange evil that affected them. Their numerous
passages in the temporal fissures and the radiations which
followed inflicted them irreversible mutations of which they
did not understand the causes until much later. The Kingalàm
quickly lost track of our source reality. They brought death
irreparably in their wake, their artificial faults resulting from
the corpses of stars. Were they created to generate worlds or to
destroy them? The Kingalàm did not understand that their
travels made them go back in time and that the more they
traveled, the more they broke the link with their original
reality of which we formed the first matrix. In addition, the
creation of new Universes implies the appearance of Universes
with slightly different mutations than the original, but also the
presence of less fertile worlds. Some, generated with too much
material collapsed with their creators … All these variants
imply different worlds where the laws of physics are not
necessarily the same as with us, hence an additional factor to
explain the Kingalàm mutation. For our part, with our parallel
journeys, in search of our lost explorers and in search of the
Kingalàm origin, we have limited ourselves to making
possible only one reality: our own! Out of ignorance, by
separating our source world from their creations - by
neglecting any interaction between our Universe and that of
the Kingalàm - we too have cut ourselves off from our origins
and have contributed to removing the alternative of reciprocal
influences. We sort of compartmentalized infinity. The Zida
machine itself took part in this scholarly failure. Other
machines of this type existed long before the rulers Pištéš and
Éa’am. We only repeated an old abortive experience. An
experience abandoned because it creates states of
superposition. The counter-rotating effect of this infernal
machine aligns forms on several levels of reality. In addition,
the reality experienced by its occupants is outside any external
control. Pilots are in different states simultaneously, and in the
event of a desynchronization, they end up vibrating like waves
on multiple frequencies simultaneously. I experienced this
state when I left Zida in order to check out the outer light
created by Šuhia. My destiny determined the fate our
civilization. That’s not all, you shouldn’t know that this type
of machine not only generates states of superimposition, but
also acts as a simulator. It can produce hybrid spaces, namely
worlds modeled on the knowledge and thoughts of its
occupants. A monstrous machine capable of linking, ad
infinitum, sequences of distinct decision-making acts drawn
from the experience of its travelers … Space-time can become
deformed enough to transport us anywhere; the mind can do
the same and create everything. You are at this very moment in
my dream, in a parallel reality, but very concrete. When we
have frequented this device, with which we remain connected
forever, nothing resists our mind … It’s a bit like making a
daily appointment with yourself anywhere in the Universe.
- Mother, yet this machine does not exist anymore, Šuhia
destroyed it to save Éa’am.
- That’s right, but in what reality? As I told you, the Zida
machine aligns forms on different levels of reality, itself being
nested on several realities. Its trace endures, its interaction
continues in time and space.
- So Éa’am probably did not free himself from the machine…
I sighed.
- Šuhia delivered him well from his hermetic night, that’s why
I need your help. If we do nothing, it will be swallowed up by
the Ušumgal authority or even that of the Kingú.
- Why don’t you turn to your daughter Tiamata?, I asked, Her
dedication to the cause of the Kadištu (planners) and the
Gina’abul females remains firm.
- No empire can have two sovereigns at its head. One of the
two would end up claiming supreme power. Your mother
Tiamata has enough to do and she is involved enough in the
world of Ušumgal. Each of them watches his actions all the
time. I must work together with you.
- What can I do to help you, my mother?
- I’ll explain it to you now. Get up my daughter.

I gradually lifted my head to face Barbélú. I cannot

describe in words what my eyes observed at that moment, nor
even reveal our pact here[6]. Our Mother’s distress remained
great despite the ages. I accepted the heavy task of ridding his
Ba (soul) of the defilements that his body had carried since his
fall in this unknown time which is ours. She and I were going
to go deep into the Night of the Worlds, in a cold and bloody
light, in search of our lost brother …
 Back from the Depths of the
Ages
“Now let me teach you about the creatures of the
darkness and he who is their master. They are horrible
and hideous creatures, accursed and misshapen. They live
apart from the creatures of light, far from the universe, in
a wretched state… [They] creep on their bellies almost,
slither through water like snakes, they contract and move
like reptiles …”(1)
The Book of Adam, part 1, excerpt from chapter
27
“When the Heavens above were not yet named, and
the Earth here below had no name, only Abzu the first of
all, their progenitor, and Mother Tiamat, the progenitrix
of all things, mixed their waters together… When none of
the gods had yet been created, and their names not yet
pronounced, and no destinies ordained, thus in their
realm, the gods were begotten… Anshar created his son
Anu in his image. Anu, like his resemblance, begat
Nudímmud…”(2)
Enûma Eliš, Babylonian Creation Epos, tablet 1,
excerpt lines 1-16

≈
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Dili-ME-Dili
By the Universal Source and in the name of the Mother
of the Origins, I, Sa’am-Nudímmud, I write these lines on the
planet Uraš[7] (the Earth) where we were stranded during the
battle which still opposes a party today from ours to the
Kadištu (planners). We were duped! Little by little, the artifice
reveals its extent, the illusion proves to be limitless. This cold,
extremely dense world does not correspond to the descriptions
engraved in our archives on a Kùsig plaque (in gold). What era
are we in? Not even the great Nammu could tell. The spider
wove its Limamu web (millennia) before, long before all of us
were born, and its laughter seems to cut the wind in the four
corners of the globe. What does Barbélú’s plan have for her
children, who still honor her name and whose thoughts keep
her dream alive?
We have not been able to celebrate our deaths, nor to
consecrate the place as the destitution assails us. They keep
mandating me to our victims prostrate in our improvised
camps. I work tirelessly for the survival of our colony. As soon
as time permits, I write these lines for posterity. Whoever pays
attention to these texts written in the obscure language of our
priestesses know the truth about this world and its origins.
Amin[8].
◆◆◆

I recall my first impressions so vividly… I remember

the tightness, anguish and suffocation. My mind a blank,
charged with uncertainty. How had I gotten here? What task
had I taken on by incarnating in this body of distress, and
verging on asphyxiation? My body completely numb, I
squinted and saw the Siensišár[9] (artificial womb) in which I
was plunged. No doubt about it, my body was fully formed. A
quickening at the bottom of my crystalline prison and then
some muffled sounds on the outside momentarily reassured
me. Someone would surely get me out of here. Yet each
second was followed by another and I had to face the obvious.
I stretched my arms out desperately and started to pound on
the walls, but my efforts soon exhausted me. The walls were
so thick that I thought no one would ever hear me.
Just when I had nearly given up hope, my body stiff, arms
aching, my brain ready to burst, I glimpsed a shape pass by
and do something that suddenly opened the Siensišár (artificial
womb). The crystal container rolled on its side and cracked
open in the middle. I was free! The light in the Creation
Chamber stung my eyes and made me dizzy, but my
monochrome vision detected a creature moving towards me:
“Welcome, son of the Gina’abul!”
1. Locked in the Siensišár
 I immediately recognized the individual who had just
saved me from certain death as my father-creator. By
observing him closely I could see what I looked like myself,
for my creator had made me in his image. I knew that I was his
creature, his Alağní[10] (clone). He towered above me, the
vertical pupils of his red eyes closely scrutinizing me. He
remained calm all the while and his gaze seemed to probe into
the depths of my soul. After having gazed back at him with the
same searching look, my eyes turned from his pale-colored
spacesuit to my naked body, which I also inspected. All those
wonderful little scales!
 2. Reptilian emerging from a matrix (artificial womb),
illustrated in the Nuttall Codex, plate 12. On its belly are the
combined Mayan signs for Etz-Nab and Lamat. Etz-Nab
symbolizes a deity in charge of the sacrificial cult and Lamat
is associated with the celestial dragon that came to
symbolize the planet Venus. Compare this image with the
matrix depicted in figure 13 of this book (Borgia Codex, pl.
70).
 The Gina’abul,[11] a term that means “the true ancestors
of splendor,” are a marvelous race and well respected
throughout this universe. They have been Creators since time
immemorial. Did my maker also want to be the founder of
worlds like our ancestors? I was astonished not to be able to
answer this question myself. As if he wanted to avoid any
unnecessary questions, and able to read thoughts, my father-
creator communicated with me through Kinsağ (telepathy):
“What is your name, my friend?”. Having the same ability, I
answered telepathically: “ My name is An, seventh of the
Ušumgal[12] (“seventh of the great dragons”).”.
My creator, who was removing the electrodes that were
still attached to my body, suddenly glared at me with an
expression of surprise and disappointment: “Well, he went on,
that’s a little better, but not good enough, unfortunately,
because I happen to be AN, the seventh of the Ušumgal!”, his
look suddenly turned to dismay, “And so, I will to have to
eliminate you, too…”
An pivoted his head in the other direction. Behind him, at
the back of the laboratory, I could see three half-opened
Siensišár (artificial womb). In each one there was a lifeless
cloned body coated with a sticky green substance. Normally,
my monochrome vision would hardly have permitted me to
recognize our sacred color, green. But, like the female
Gina’abul—the priestesses who guard the Great Secrets—I
had an advantage in being the offspring of an Ušumgal;
namely, the ability to interpret different colors intuitively. An
turned back to me; he seemed irritated: “But this time, I don’t
understand… the previous specimens were Alağní (clones) of
little importance, but you… Come, now, you’ll hardly feel a
thing.”, An gazed at me intently, “Well! Are you going to obey
me or not? Come here!”
I was still crouched in my crystal womb. My father-
creator, who was holding a pair of Zirzi death-rods, wanted me
to go over to him so that he could deactivate me. I stared at
him without making a move. An finally had to come over to
me. He activated the deadly weapons, filling the room with a
low, chilling sound. My father-creator eyed me furtively, as if
wanting to see my last reactions in the face of death. He held
the Zirzi neck-high… but just as he was about to release a
lethal charge, he saw me grin.
“You’re not like the other ones at all… I see no fear in
your eyes, just mischief!”, An was not fooled by my gambit by
a long shot, but my daring pleased him. He burst out laughing
and deactivated the horrible Zirzi. I watched him for a few
seconds, trying my best to laugh, too, but no sound emerged.
My creator hastened to reassure me, telling me in essence what
I already knew. This time, he spoke out loud: “Don’t worry,
you’ll be able to use your speech better in just a few Danna
(hours). As for your eyes, they will soon get accustomed to the
light and its spectrum.”. With that, An’s face suddenly became
serious again.
“I like you, and I’ve changed my mind. As you know, I
had decided to call you Maš (twin or first one), but now I
prefer calling you Sa’am, “the good lord, the well-shaped.”
He certainly had a sense of humor! An chuckled again, and
then left the room. A chill went up my spine as I watched him
leave: to my horror, I saw that my father-creator had a tail!
This anatomical detail puzzled me because I knew very well
that I didn’t. I also noticed that An was much taller and
heavier than I was. Why had he created these differences
between us? And why this sudden change of name? Why had
he programmed me as Maš and then spontaneously changed
my identity? Who was I?
I was troubled because I could find no answers to these
questions. To reassure myself, I thought in terms of tactical
mistakes and genetic dysfunctions. If that was the case, then I
would have to hide this fact from the other Ušumgal. Keeping
a defective Alağní (clone) would have discredited An in the
eyes of his peers. After all, had he not always been considered
one of the greatest geneticists in the history of the Gina’abul?
It hardly made any sense! I finally thought that, except for the
physical differences, which were probably intentional, I would
be able to make the necessary genetic corrections myself if I
came across any anomalies in my person.
 With some effort I extracted myself from the Siensišár
completely and was finally able to stand up. After just a few
steps, I became dizzy and had to catch myself on the matrix of
one of my botched predecessors. My gaze wandered over to
one of the bodies. No doubt of it: we were perfectly identical.
The horrified expression frozen on his face was an eloquent
reminder that I could not afford to make a mistake. An Alağní
(clone) created by an Ušumgal owed it to himself not to fail at
his appointed task!
The time had come for me to prove myself worthy of my
mission. I knew exactly what An expected of me. I had to
leave and introduce myself to the six other Ušumgal[13]. I left
the Creation Chamber and headed for the laboratory complex
where my father-creator conducted his research. Being freshly
created, I was not very steady on my feet; my legs were still a
bit stiff. But my resolution not to disappoint An helped me
overcome my weakness. Walking through the maze of halls
and rooms, it all felt familiar, as if the place were already filled
with “my” presence. Yet it also dawned on me that I was
nothing but an Alağní (clone). That was a cruel enough fact,
but it was for the sake of a science that was still seeking
acceptance and power, for I knew very well why I had been
created. But not so well, either. I could never have guessed
that its sole purpose was to satisfy the ambitions of a being
whose actions were going to shake our race to its foundations,
not to mention those of some of our colonies and the Namlú’u
of Uraš[14] (the human species on the planet Earth) in the
process.
 3. Gnostic emblem representing the great Archonte, who
is clearly identified with the biblical Yahweh (IAW). We
know today that many aspects of Hebraic culture originated
in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, and so it is not
surprising to find the root of the name Yahweh in the
Egyptian term Iaw (adoration, prayer). Serpentine figures
can also be found in Greece, on the statues of the Titans,
whose legs were often given a form that recalled the reptilian
origins of the super-humans of antiquity. A similar
phenomenon can be observed on the cylinder seals depicting
Mesopotamian “gods.”
 Nalulkára and its Abzu
“The Kachinas[15] are physical beings, which is why they
need vessels to travel through the air and return to their
planets… The one who drives the vessel has to operate a
“bridle”. When he turns it to the right, the vessel lifts off, and
when he turns it to the left, the vessel descends. The vessel
does not have a motor like an airplane and needs no fuel.
It flies in a magnetic field. You just have to know the
right altitude.
If you want to go to the east, you select the altitude, if
you want to go to the north,
you choose another altitude, etc.
All you have to do is climb to the right altitude for the
direction
and the vessel will fly in the desired current.”(3)
The Hopi Indian White Bear
(J.F. Blumrich, Kasskara und die sieben Welten, Munich,
1985)

₪
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Dili-ME-Min
When I reached the hall in which we park the
Margíd’da[16] (our word for “chariots from afar”), I had no
trouble finding the spacecraft intended for me. It was
operational and the lightness of its color told me that it had not
been running for very long. Since my legs did not hurt so
much anymore, I decided to try a first jump and leapt to the
top of the spacecraft, catching myself easily as I landed. We
Gina’abul are well known for our tremendous leaps, but as the
Alağní (clone) of an Ušumgal, I had been endowed with other
abilities that would have seemed completely impossible on
Uraš (Earth). I slipped into the vehicle, bathed in the green
radiance emitted by the walls of the cockpit and saw that it
was a small Margíd’da one-seater, perfectly suited to my size.
Without hesitation, I placed my hand on the control panel and
the hatch sealed automatically shut.
 4. Little Margíd’da from Sa’am destined to carry him to
the Ušumgal Council.
 The small craft lifted off gently from the main platform
of the Uanna, my father-creator’s colossal mother-ship. The
360° screen around the walls of the cockpit gave me a three-
dimensional view of the outside. The darkness of infinite
space seemed to absorb me in its embrace and I had a hard
time making out the oblong shape of the Uanna. Only then did
I realize that my eyes were not yet fully operational. There
were no stars anywhere, the horizon was completely empty.
The Uanna happened to be in orbit on the night side of the
gigantic planet Nalulkára, our imperial residence at the heart
of the Anduruna System[17].
A simple downwards maneuver coaxed the Margíd’da
(“chariot from afar”) into approaching the southern
hemisphere of our planet. As the craft sped toward the far end
of the great globe, I saw the lights of many cities suddenly
emerge from the dark mass. I knew that millions of female
Gina’abul, the famed Amašutum, lived peacefully on its
surface. They are the guardians of mighty secrets, and many of
them are planners as well. At the time, all the Amašutum[18]
lived under the protective wing of our mother and
benefactress, the great queen Tigeme[19]. Many questions
came to mind: Would she also be there? Will she be seated
together with Abzu-Abba, among the Ušumgal, when I arrive?
If so, then it must be a serious matter. The only thing I knew at
the moment was that I had to present myself for inspection to
the assembled Ušumgal.
As the craft maintained its swift course, stars began to
appear out of the darkness. It was a marvelous sight, but the
craft had already begun its descent and the sun suddenly came
into view from behind the black disk, snuffing out all the other
lights. The Anduruna System has several suns, which means
that the nights are very short. I was close enough to the surface
now to be able to see the details of the terrain. The impressive
Šèka, the southern opening of our planet, loomed up closer
and closer and finally engulfed my tiny Margíd’da (“chariot
from afar”).
 5. Nasa World Wind, astonishing photo dated February
21, 2009. We note the strange presence of an accumulation
of winds at the level of the North Pole. These winds seem to
be sucked in or out of a specific point. This phenomenon
remains inexplicable.
 6. Presence of a strange dark spot at the South Pole of
the Moon, Mission Clémentine, 1994.
 The nether realm of our planet is called the “Abzu[20] of
Nalulkára,” in homage to Abzu-Abba, the ancient, our elder
father, the master and absolute ruler of the underground world.
On every planet, the Abzu is the place where all the waters of
the outer world flow together to form an underground ocean.
We use the term Abzu to refer to the totality of the hollow
space inside each planet. Not only is the Abzu of Nalulkára the
most awesome of its kind in the stellar system of Anduruna,
which lies in the constellation of Margíd’da (Ursa Major), but
it is also the vastest of all the planets that belong to us or that
we have visited so far.
 7. The constellation of Margíd’da (the Big Dipper) next
to the royal constellation of Ušu (the Dragon).
 My Margíd’da (“chariot from afar”) was flying over an
endlessly varied wilderness landscape. From time to time,
towns would appear in the mountains or on lakeshores, but
they were few and far between, for the Abzu on our planet was
sparsely inhabited these days. Several thousand Šutum still
lived there and served our king, Abzu-Abba. The Šutum
population had fallen prey to a mysterious, insidious disease
for many Muanna (years) and had become so reduced that it
was in danger of becoming extinct.
Originally, this allogeneic lineage had been specially
created by Abzu-Abba to fertilize the Amašutum, but their
reproductive powers had dramatically decreased over the
course of time. Many Šutum simply degenerated and, for
some strange reason, their Ğèš (penis) atrophied. The
Šutum[21] were gradually becoming perishable, and therefore
expendable.
The Amašutum, on the contrary, had no problem with
reproduction and maintaining their line, for they were
excellent geneticists and able to clone themselves indefinitely.
Unlike the Šutum, who were all derived from the same
original genetic substance, the females[22] displayed a large
variety of facial features and characters, which made them
individually remarkable beings. Not only that but they had an
eternal lifespan, for, again unlike the Šutum, their bodies
periodically underwent a Gibil’lásu (renewal of the skin), like
snakes and certain reptiles. All the same, there were rumors of
the possibility of dying, and even of resurrection for some of
them—a topic that was entirely new to us males.
The purpose of my mission had something to do with the
Šutum problem, but I could not figure out exactly what. In
programming me, An had evidently given me only the data
that I would need to carry out my mission. In any case, I
trusted him fully… or did I have a choice in the matter? I had
been created simply for the sake of my mission and, being
only an Alağní, there was no way that I could call the creature
that I was into question.
I had finally reached my destination, the city of Šàlam. I
landed near the great Unir[23] (pyramid) of the Ušumgal-Kuku
(Ušumgal ancestors) that stood at a short distance from the
royal palace. The stepped pyramid towered above the entire
city and region, but the vast square that surrounded it was
completely empty. I left my Margíd’da (“chariot from afar”)
and walked with brisk steps to the main entrance of the Unir
(pyramid). The interior sun[24] of the Abzu (underground
world) shone brightly. I turned my face toward it for a few
moments to take in the invigorating heat. The Gina’abul are
very fond of heat, which has always been vital to our race. I
was glad to see that my legs no longer hurt and that my vision
was perfectly operational. There were no guards to protect the
building, but this was hardly necessary, for we were still a
rather peaceful people then. Even so, the Ušumgal had no need
for additional protection, since their exceptional powers kept
them safe from sudden attack.
I walked into the pyramid using the main hall. Although
it was dark inside, my eyes could see in complete darkness,
and so I had no trouble finding my way. I walked up many
flights of stairs and along a narrow hallway until I finally came
to a high triangular door. I had reached the goal of my journey.
I walked straight to the middle of the empty Council Room
and paused to kneel as a sign of respect. The spot where I
kneeled was marked by the shining emblem of the Amašutum.
 8. Neptune’s North Pole as seen by the NASA Voyager 2
satellite (P-34628). There is a central area, both clear and
abnormal. This is a composite photo taken on a full 18 hour
Neptunian day. A lack of data at the pole level usually
results in a very sharp, not white, dark spot like here.
 This age-old emblem showed two crossed Muš (serpents)
that symbolized the balance between the two primeval forces
of the universe. Queen Tigeme and her host of Amašutum
priestesses claimed to possess absolute knowledge and
symbolize by themselves the knowledge of our race. I silenced
my mind in the same way that silence filled the room and
waited for a long while before deciding to communicate with
the Kuku (ancestors) by using the technique of Kinsağ
(telepathy): “Kuku, I know that you are here! I have come with
a message!”.
There was no answer. Time seemed to have come to a
complete standstill. I knew perfectly well where the Ušumgal
were, but made it a point to stay where I was, head bowed and
unmoving. It was crucial for me not to display any emotion,
for the Ušumgal could sense the slightest feeling. I had to
remain calm, composed and not think of anything that might
betray an emotion—my life depended on it.
“I have come on behalf of An, your offspring.”
All at once, I heard a strange sound, like the clatter of
some great mechanical device. The six Ušumgal suddenly
appeared, descending from the darkness of the ceiling. They
sat on a gigantic metal throne shaped like a star disk, the
symbol of the males. The throne was rapidly lowered and
eased into its fittings in the floor with a loud noise, completing
the symbol of the Amašutum perfectly. Now I was surrounded
by the Ušumgal.
 9. The Ušumgal descend from the ceiling of the council
chamber onto a metal star embedded in the ground.
 “What does a runt like you want from us and what is your
affiliation with An?”
I immediately recognized the hissing and arrogant tone of
our lord and king Abzu-Abba. He, too, was using the Kinsağ
technique, and our entire conversation was conducted in this
way. I raised my head and recognized him among the other
Ušumgal. All of them wore white garments. Abzu-Abba was
huge, slightly taller than the others, both handsome and
fearsome, the embodiment of low-level energies. He
attempted to destabilize me by hypnotizing me. I was glad to
be able to parry his attack and show him that he could not
impress me. He immediately calmed down. These few seconds
of respite gave me the necessary time to reply.
“I am the messenger of An, my Barag (king), the one you
have all been awaiting.
- If what you say is true, then what are you waiting for
to deliver your message?
- I already have!”
Anšár, one of the creators of An, spoke up. He sat fairly
close to his androgynous brother, Kišár. Their faces were
somewhat identical to mine and this reminded me that An
himself was no more than an Alağní (clone).
“What do you mean? Are you mocking us, you wretched
creature!
- Not at all, I am the message. I am the new prototype
that you have all been hoping for.”
As soon as they had heard these words, the Ušumgal
started chuckling and making a deafening racket. Our king,
Abzu-Abba, was choking with laughter and writhing in his
seat. He pointed me out to the other Kuku. Of course, I was
naked! Indeed, from the moment I had left the Room of
Creation, I had not put on a stitch of clothing. Such was the
law for the first appearance before the assembled Ušumgal.
But what they were laughing at was not so much my nudity as
the fact that I had no Ğèš (penis). I could easily understand
their mockery and the seeming senselessness of my mission.
Could I blame them? It must have seemed utterly grotesque. I
had to clear things up. I took on an air of confidence and spoke
up again: “I am the solution to your problems and I want to
prove it…”
Completely exasperated, Abzu-Abba cut me short,
standing up and using his voice, bellowing and slathering:
“Alright, then! Give him an Amašutum and let him show us
what to do with her!”. The Ušumgal burst out laughing again
and the assembly took on a dangerously hysterical and
uncontrollable turn. Nothing seemed to be able to make them
stop. I had to assert myself more firmly—and fast!
Fortunately, behind me sat Tigeme, our queen, whom I had not
yet seen head-on. In spite of the roaring laughter, I could hear
her stand up, seemingly annoyed. She whistled sharply in our
heads: “That’s enough!! Peace be with you, my sons. What is
your name, my child?”
I hesitated briefly with the answer. I turned my head
around to face our good queen. She was sublime, and almost
as tall as her husband. Her forehead was crowned with an oval
diadem made of gold leaf (kùsig) and set with an eye-agate.
Her body was draped in a flowing, diaphanous fabric that was
knotted at her breasts and fell from there down to her ankles.
Arrayed in her royal jewels, she displayed the magnificent
bearing that had spread her fame far and wide in the universe.
“Sa’am, noble Ereš (queen).
- Very well. May this name bring you good fortune.
This little creature is an emissary, the bearer of a
message of peace and courage. Being the Alağní
(clone) of our son An, he deserves our utmost respect.
We understand very well that Sa’am does not pretend
to be able to fertilize the Amašutum, and so let us
listen to what he has to say… he may be a scientist.”
The queen had a strange way of speaking. Our females
tend to over-accentuate certain syllables, which gives them a
daunting tonality. The males think that this is because of the
many dialects that they have to use within the Confederation
of Planners. Yet there were rumors of a completely different
reason involving the fact that our females used a double
language that was unknown to the males. Not only that, but
they mastered the hermetic science of the power of sound. If
they had to, they could make entire cities collapse or block
access to their most secret sanctuaries. Disconcerted, I tried to
answer our queen as fast as possible:
“Exactly, your Majesty. An created me as the first
specimen of a new generation of Alağní (clones). Cloning is
going to save us. We are past masters in this art and it would
be a shame not to use it. We are going to create a lineage of
perfect beings, a fresh start for the Gina’abul.
- Your words trouble me, Sa’am. What is to become of
the Amašutum in this strategy? Do you and An want to
deprive them of the joy of bearing children?
- We should be realistic, Erešgal (great queen). The
Amašutum no longer bear children, but they also have
the knowledge of how to create Alağní (clones).
Together, we will perpetuate our race.
- Do the two of you want to reduce my Amašutum to
mere diplomats and cloners?
- That is already their function now, your Highness.
The Amašutum are numerous and belong to the
Kadištu (planners) of this universe. Thanks to them,
we have become equal to the creative deities and in
this way immortalized the name of the Gina’abul. If
our planner allies found out that some of the Gina’abul
were dying out and that we were doing nothing to
remedy this, we might be excluded from the
confederation of the Kadištu[25].”
 11. Queen Tigeme (Tiamata) talking with Sa’am right in
the middle of the Ušumgal Council. She is taller than her
children, is similar to that of Barbélú, the Mother of the
Origins.
 A number of approving voices were heard in the
assembly. I continued: “We should be rational. Let the poor
Šutum live out their lives and let us replace them with a new
lineage that, together with the Amašutum, will become the
pride of the Gina’abul.”
Tigeme spoke up again: “Is Science willing to sacrifice
all of our principles? We have listened to your words well and
even if they are difficult for us to hear, they do make sense.”
Our queen turned toward her spouse, Abzu-Abba, as if to help
him bear what she had to say. “Sa’am and his creator are
presenting us with a cruel and difficult choice, but we know
perfectly well that the Šutum are endangering our entire race.
An is our best scientist and, according to the principles of
kinship, Sa’am should surpass even him. If both of them have
reached this extreme conclusion in their work, then we have to
hear them out. We, the Kuku (ancestors), have to discuss this
delicate matter.”
Lahmu, who had not said anything yet, stood up :
“For security’s sake and before we make any decisions,
should we not ask the best Amašutum specialists for their
opinion?
- You do me a great honor, Lahmu. Rest assured, ever
since we have been able to isolate the deadly bacteria,
my ablest Dumumí (daughters) have been working on
the matter and should be giving us their findings
shortly. We will discuss all of this with An soon.”
Tigeme again turned in my direction.
“Go back to your creator, my child. Congratulate him on
his creation and on his choice of names! Tell him to come to
us so that we can debate and take a vote.”
I saluted the assembly of Kuku (ancestors) and was about
to take my leave when Abzu-Abba called out in a very dry
tone of voice:
“What is the name of the new lineage that An and you
want to force upon us?
 - It is not a matter of forcing anything, my Barag
(king). I believe that my creator is going to call them
Anunna.”
I left the Council Room, still being careful not to let any
emotions show, for this would put me in danger of revealing
my deficiencies. On leaving the Unir (pyramid), I was rather
happy with myself: I had accomplished my mission. The
Ušumgal had listened to me and seemed willing to sacrifice
the Šutum to the new lineage. However, other questions came
to mind. Why was my father-creator so bent on creating these
Anunnas? I had no idea, no more than about all this work
being done on the Šutum. Our queen seemed sure that my
knowledge was identical with that of An and that we had
reached the same conclusions. I realized again that I was
lacking crucial information on this matter.
I walked with long strides back to my spacecraft and
resolved to look into all of this in secret. My initial impression
of having a genetic dysfunction proved to be wrong, for the
information that I could not access seemed to have been
especially well chosen.
I flew out of the Abzu (underground world) of Nalulkára,
leaving our home planet behind me, and set course for the
Uanna. My sole preoccupation was to get my hands on the
equipment that I would need to analyze the contaminated
blood of the Šutum… but without my father-creator finding
out.
◆◆◆

I went straight to An and gave him a detailed report of the

meeting and discussion. My creator was overjoyed. He gave
me a jumpsuit and told me that he wanted to go to the
assembly immediately. I would have to stay if I wanted to
conduct my research. While he was preparing to take me
along, I expressed my wish to stay, telling him that he would
not need my services on Nalulkára. I immediately realized my
mistake. An’s face darkened and I could tell that he was trying
to read my thoughts.
 My false move had obviously made him suspicious. He
left me alone for a while, pretending to have forgotten
something. Coming from him, that seemed unthinkable. It was
clear that he wanted to take precautions. From now on, I
would have to be extremely vigilant and, above all, change
tacks if I wanted to progress in my investigation. Accordingly,
I finally agreed to accompany him back to Nalulkára, but
chose to fly in my own spacecraft on the pretext of wanting to
take a tour of our planet.
My father-creator strongly advised me against
approaching the Amašutum. His warning did not come as any
surprise, for I knew that he could not stand them. While we
were making our descent toward the Abzu of Nalulkára, An
asked me to be available at a moment’s notice in case the
Ušumgal wanted to reexamine me. I answered in the
affirmative.
 11. An questions Sa’am about his interview with the
Ušumgals.
 12. Relief from a cave at the archaeological site of
Chalcatzingo, in the state of Morelos, south of Mexico City.
We see a “god” or high Aztec dignitary sitting inside an
ovoid vessel that spews flames. An important detail are the
double Gs in the pilot’s hands and under his seat. This
typical Amerindian symbol represents our galaxy, the Milky
Way. It has been used here to express the fact that the vessel
can travel from one end of the universe to the other. Also
note the concentric frontal designs that recall the magneto
hydrodynamic (MHD) technique of air intake which is
ejected in the back of a flying aircraft to provide supersonic
propulsion. Archaeologists interpret this scene simply as a
rain cult with the open jaws of a jaguar symbolizing the
Earth.
 And so, our Margíd’da (chariots from afar) separated,
his plunging into the Abzu (subterranean world), while mine
slid across the brilliant crescent of the planet. This was only a
feint, because I had to return to the Abzu myself. Since I had
not been able to get the information that I needed back on the
Uanna and still did not have the material for my analyses, I
had to find some other way. I decided to look for a specimen
of contaminated Šutum tissue. My Margíd’da veered back and
headed for the Abzu. I would not have to go very far to find
what I was after.
My craft landed on the square of the first village I saw.
There were few individuals outdoors. The Šutum in that part
of the Abzu were apparently no longer in the habit of seeing
strangers, because they took to their heels as soon as they saw
me! I tried to calm them, but to no avail. This was not going to
be so easy after all. Since I had already had a taste of their
inhospitability, I decided to just go ahead with it.
I forced my way into one of their dwellings and
quickly found a knife and glass jar on a table. With that, I went
back outside and started looking for a diseased individual. I
did not have far to look, since the disease affected the nervous
system. I saw a Šutum outside of a dwelling, violently shaken
by convulsions. I walked over to him and deftly peeled away a
small piece of Uzu (skin) with the knife.
He did not feel a thing, for at that stage of the disease
his limbs were completely numb. Our eyes met, and I could
see that the only thing he wanted was for it to end. The poor
wretch was losing his scales and many of his Šagra[26] were
turned inside out. At the time, I did not care much about the
life of a single individual. I left him lying on the ground,
although I could easily have helped him. By virtue of my
Kuku (ancestors), the great Ušumgal, I had the ability to
change the course of fate. However, according to the new laws
enacted by An, we were allowed to use our powers for our
fellow-beings only in case of personal danger. And was I in
any danger? Of course not! These new laws were as mad as
their creator and I was among the ones who applied them
without a second thought!
 Unulahgal, the Capital of Nalulkára and the Makers of
Life
“The man of the Proximal was both masculine and
feminine and thus formed together by the Mother and Father,
as clarified in one verse:
‘And it is said: Elohim[27] let there be light! and there was
light.’
The words ‘let there be light’ indicate that the Father (God,
the Original Source),
and the words ‘and there was light’ indicate the Mother.
Such is man: of two countenances.
Nevertheless, the form and resemblance of man is only
that of the Supreme Mother,
which is understood as a substitute name, and as such, she
is Elohim.”
The Zohar, Tiquon Ha-Zohar, 22b(4)
Δ

Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Dili-ME-Eš

With my precious piece of Uzu (flesh), I went back to
the Margíd’da (chariot from afar) for the trip back. The
spacecraft soared through the Abzu and emerged at the surface
of our planet. I briefly considered heading for the Uanna to
conduct my tests there, but that was too dangerous. An could
very well have taken measures to protect his laboratory. From
now on, I wanted to avoid taking any unnecessary risks. The
only alternative seemed to be to go the Amašutum themselves,
my creator’s warning to the contrary.
But where exactly? Where could I find a quiet place to
do the secret analyses? I had no idea! Apparently, my father-
creator seemed to have spent more time in the Abzu and in
outer space than on the surface of our planet, unless this was
another effect of his genetic manipulations on my person. This
was definitely something to look into. I calmed myself and
decided to head for Unulahgal, the capital city of Nalulkára,
where the Sciences had been cultivated since time
immemorial. It may not have been the most discreet of places,
but I had no time to lose and the place felt somehow familiar.
My Zumá took a southern course, speeding above the
rolling countryside. On reaching my destination I took the
precaution of landing on the outskirts of the capital, so as not
to attract undue notice. Luckily, the spacesuit that An had
given me also had a hood. I pulled it over my head to hide my
face, which would have given me away. Although I did not
have all the attributes of a male, I did have the physical traits
and stature of one.
 13. Positioned in front of his cobra-headed Zumá-type
ship, Sa’am observes Unulahgal, the capital of the
Amašutum. Zumá ships are derived from the technology of
Reverend Agarin, the ancestors of the Amašutum.
 The sacred city of Unulahgal, the jewel of our proud
planet, was a gathering-place for high-ranking female initiates.
All the planner-priestesses studied in this sanctuary of
learning. According to their own dogmas, they were the
makers of life and the great transformers in the service of the
Original Source—the primeval and universal deity for whom
all the Kadištu (planners) worked. A handful of them had the
privilege of planning life on the planet called Uraš (Earth),
which is located in the great stellar system of Ti-ama-te (Solar
System). The highly enigmatic doctrines of the priestesses and
Kadištu (planners) are greatly feared by the males of our
species.
Zumá-type ships crossed the city’s central alley fast. I
walked into the city through the mighty West Gate, which was
decorated with colorful flags bearing the intertwined snake
symbol of the Amašutum. I seemed to know every nook and
cranny of this fabulous city. I deduced from this that my
father-creator must have stayed here in the past, long before
the plague that had struck the Šutum, and at a time when the
males could circulate freely on the surface of our planet. But
things had changed, and now I had to keep from being
discovered.
I walked down the main avenue of the city. Nearby, I could
hear the sound of gentle flute and string music which only the
female musicians knew how to play. I dove into the crowd and
made my way to a small esplanade. As luck would have it, the
sun was standing at the zenith, which meant that most of the
Amašutum were outdoors taking in its vitalizing rays. It was
the noon break. Because of this circumstance, I would be able
to move freely in the buildings devoted to the sciences of the
body, which was my specialty. But first I had to leave the
crowd as soon as possible and take side streets to get there.
The esplanade was filled with laughter and smiling faces. Just
as I thought I was in the clear, a female—apparently one of the
guardians of the city—strode over to me and looked me over
from head to foot. I couldn’t escape her vigilance.
 14. The city of Unulahgal, kingdom of the Amašutum,
flanked by its two large step pyramids. The central aisle is
on the left.
 “Well, well, do you have a cold, so that you have to cover
yourself completely?”
Since the Amašutum are free of diseases, there was no
way I could pretend to have an illness that would have
justified this precaution. I spoke in a clear voice and did my
best to imitate their peculiar accent—not an easy task.
“I’m in the middle of my Gibil’lásu (renewal of skin)…
and for the first time!
- That shouldn’t be very serious then, young Búluğ
(novice). We are all made in the same way. It’s always
impressive the first time around. Have you taken
counsel from the Guide?
- No, not yet.
- You should, because she could give you good advice.
It’s over there, you know, at the foot of the two towers.
Shall I take you there, Búluğ (novice)?
The marvelous powers that I had gotten from An were a
great help in formulating my answers and making me sound
sure of myself. I declined her offer and rapidly set off in the
direction that she had pointed out. That was perfect: it was
exactly the direction I wanted to go in. The way took me past
the great library and its dome, where all of the official records
of our history are inscribed on huge plaques of kùsig (gold).
The famous Natural Sciences complex lay just behind the
library. I opened the great cedar wood and bronze doors and
discretely made my way through the entrance hall. As I had
expected, the building was completely deserted. The light
from outside filtered through high stained-glass windows and
created a marvelous atmosphere. After walking through
hallways decorated with pink marble columns, I finally came
to the room for the study of the body.
All the equipment I needed was there, in hand’s reach.
I had no time to lose, and went to work immediately. Taking
the glass jar from its hiding place under my clothing, I took
out the precious piece of Uzu (flesh) and proceeded to subject
it to a battery of tests. I had to identify the deadly bacteria. The
first results came as a shock and confirmed my worst fears. I
quickly conducted more tests, but the results were exactly the
same. I had to face the facts: there was nothing natural about
the Šutum’s affliction. The virus, which seemed to mutate all
by itself, was much too sophisticated and unlike anything
known by our Science. After I took it out of the time
accelerator, it was even more virulent than before. The thing
was a monster, a murderous monster that attacked and
destroyed the immune system.
Surely, the Amašutum specialists must have known
about it already, since I had been able to discover it in so little
time. On the other hand, they lacked the advantage of being
the Alağní (clone) of an Ušumgal; that is, of being the creature
of one of the murderers. I recognized the origins of this
handiwork as easily as if it had been my own: it bore the
unmistakable stamp of my father-creator.
I quickly left the laboratory, for the gong marking the
end of the midday break had just been rung. My head was
abuzz. I was still under the shock of my discovery, but at least
everything made sense now. Getting to the bottom of this
enigma was a real torture. With this information in hand, I had
no trouble guessing An’s true intentions. Nightmarish visions
flashed through my mind. I had a considerable advantage over
everyone else, but would gladly have done without it. Being
an Alağní (clone), there was no way that I could betray my
creator; that would have been worse than being deactivated
with the Zirzi (life destroyer). However, this made me the
accomplice of psychopath and, together—the creature and its
creator—were about to step hand-in-hand into the crazy dance
of the dangerously insane. This was another bizarre doctrine
that I would gladly have done without, but fate had decided
otherwise.
 15. The library is in the background and the study
complex just ahead, along the central alley.
 While the female initiates were walking back to their
research labs, I took the precaution of hiding in a side street
and biding my time. They were not going in the same direction
as I, and I had to be especially vigilant. After a while, I found
my way back to the Western Gate, which was unwatched, as
before, and returned to my Margíd’da (chariot from afar).
Fortunately, no one had seen its bright reflection in the
sunlight. I turned around to contemplate the spectacle of
Unulahgal with its impressive twin stepped Unir (pyramids). A
warm breeze picked up around me. It could not have been
much less than 50°C in the shade, a most comfortable
temperature for our kind. I lost track of time as I stood there,
admiring the capital, thinking that I may never see it again.
The images of Unulahgal that I stored in those moments were
to remain forever engraved in my memory. Our main sun shed
a warm and gentle light on the city and the ocher desert that
stretched beyond it to the horizon. What finally tore me away
from these wonderful sights was the sound of my father-
creator’s voice. It came from the controls of my Margíd’da
and crackled unpleasantly in the speaker: “Sa’am, the Council
of the Kuku wishes to see you again. Join us as soon as you
can.”
I knew very well what An expected of me now. If the
Ušumgal wanted to see me again, it was because they had
taken a vote. I left Unulahgal, leaving the female Amašutum to
their fate, but absolutely certain that our paths would cross
again soon… only to merge forever.
 The Ušumgal Permit the Creation of the Anunnas
“The Power from on high (Prunikos)[28], showing her
beauty to the Archons
who created the world made them crave for herself, and
that is what she was sent for,
in order to despoil; because of her, in fact, these same
Angels came to war against each other; she herself did not
suffer, but she caused them to kill each other
because of her desire.
So, restraining her to prevent her from ascending to
heaven, they traded with her,
each mating to a female or female-appearing body,
as she herself passed from female bodies to various bodies
of human nature,
bestial or otherwise, so that by their own acts, by killing
and being killed,
they cause their number to decrease by the shedding of
blood,
and then, concentrating its power, it may again rise to the
sky “.
Epiphanes of Salamis, Pan., 21, 2, 5-6
▼

Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Dili-ME-

Limmu
My small spacecraft rounded the curve of Nalulkára once
again on the way back to the Abzu (underground world). The
seven Ušumgal were patiently waiting for me when I strode
for the second time into the Council Hall. I was greeted much
more enthusiastically than the first time. The six male Kuku of
dual polarity sat in a circle around Tigeme, who presided at the
center of the symbol of the Gina’abul. Our good Queen asked
me to come to her in the middle. Her expression was tense,
which made her seem tired. I walked up to her side, and finally
realized how tall she really was: at least three heads taller than
me. Our two sovereigns, survivors of the mines of Turnam,
had an impressive stature, far superior to that of their five
children. In ancient times they were intended for the burden on
behalf of the crown of Ušu (constellation Dragon). For the
Šutum and myself, simple workers of the Ušumgal, this part of
our history remained fragmentary and enigmatic. Behind this
opaque veil, however, hid our original Mother, Barbélú, the
cursed one. I almost know nothing about her except some of
her many crimes…
Tigeme took me by the shoulders and spoke in her
normal voice. We all felt the emotion in her words. An
emotion that managed to conceal mixed but deep feelings,
which was something that a queen of her status could not
afford to show:
“Here we are, finally assembled, the guides of the
Gina’abul. My good children, today is an Ud (day) of good
and bad omen alike. We have met Sa’am, who is present
among us once more and who is the first specimen of a new
lineage called the Anunna. My Nindiğir (priestesses) have
failed, for they were not able to bring us the final results
concerning the illness of the Šutum in time. In spite of this,
and at the behest of some of you, we have had to resort to a
vote. Five Ušumgal have expressed their desire to see An’s
project carried out. This decision is final. We will have to
abandon the Šutum to their sad fate. Presently, it is of the
essence to collect a large number of Siensišár (artificial
matrices), so that we can produce this new, long-awaited
lineage.”
A heavy silence fell over the assembly. Kišár turned to me
and spoke: “Sa’am, please tell us if you remember your first
meeting with us.” His question caught me off guard, but I
quickly understood what he was getting at.
“I am a complete, unfragmented soul, I answered. At least
that is the choice that I think I have made. Only a few Danna
(hours) ago, I was still a soul coursing along the streams of
light in infinite space. I found myself imprisoned in a place
where there is no light, with the impression of not being able
to move …
- You come out of a Siensišár (artificial matrix). All
Alağní (clone) keeps this painful sensation in mind,
cut in Anšár.
- No, it’s not that kind of feeling, I said. I was
elsewhere, at the border of beginnings, as if paralyzed
by the crushing of multiple wavelengths. I remember
that a light suddenly burst from the darkness to free
me from my confinement. A form, a being …
- Your poetic ramblings does not fascinate us much,
cut short my creator An, Come to the point, the hour is
serious.”
The Ušumgals were surprised at the reaction of their
young son : “ Continue your story, little Alağní. It is very
interesting, added our king insistently. What did this being
look like?” My creator’s face began to wince. I had to avoid
any dishonor to him, even if it meant distorting my words. Our
ruler sensed an ambiguity, his cold gaze went to his direct
descendants, Lahmu and Lahamu. The two older ones fluttered
their wings and abruptly left their iron thrones to inspect me
closely. They were the only Ušumgals who could soar like
ancient dragons. Their very archaic facies, eager for
sensations, sniffed me insistently to detect the slightest
embarrassment. An abominable odor exhaled under their royal
garbage! The dark thorn of time plowed their flesh which
struggled to produce the divine Gibil’lásu (skin renewal). Only
the ritual of the stone bed could now regenerate them. I had to
think of nothing under pain of being discovered.
“Enough! cried our queen against her two firstborns.
Answer without fear my child.
- No idea who this creature is, I said firmly. The veil
of memories has descended on me. As a solitary
traveler, I crossed the light of infinite void and the
curvature of space-time. My guides from on high
allowed me to pass through the various gates… from
world to world. I flew through the warm and deep
 Void. I saw stars being born and others vanishing. In
the midst of this universe in perpetual motion,
breaking the spell of the eternal and fragile silence, I
heard the voices of my incarnated brothers. I
hearkened to the call of An, your son. I approached…
escorted by beings of light… and then… and then…
I’m not sure… it’s all confused…
- … And here you are among us today!
- Here I am, but in a much harder and much colder
world!
- But also, in a more concrete universe, Kišár pointed
out. Rest assured, your paternal affiliation will help
you get used to it soon enough.
- Yes, An chimed in, you will appreciate the
advantages of this part of the universe. We, the
exceptional creatures that we are, have dominion over
all other species, plant as well as animal. This world
belongs to us today, Sa’am, and it will belong to us
tomorrow as well.
- The eternity of your mother Barbélú, like her
doctrines, are not part of my commitments for this
incarnation.”
I felt Tigeme’s hand press me gently, as if in warning.
Abzu-Abba jumped:
“It is forbidden to pronounce this name in our Assembly!
The fallen queen deserves no thought. It is the cause of our
misfortune! Her fallacious memory has faded since the days
when we cursed her. The members of this Assembly all took
the oath of blood in order to forget it for eternity. Since then,
our reality has moved away from her. Did your creator omit
this fact? An! Your creature is deficient, we cannot tolerate its
presence. I order you to retire and take his life!
“No need to take that tone,” replied our queen. I allow Sa’am
to explain himself.
- My knowledge of the fallen sovereign is extremely limited.
Its only purpose was to satisfy you. I do not in any way feel
superior to this or that living species in this Universe.
- Do you doubt the purity of our powers? says Abzu-
Abba, Could it be that you do not accept the fact of
being exceptional, you who have the benefit of the
abilities and genius of the Ušumgal? Could it be that
you are not really as exceptional as we thought?
Anšár spoke: “Do not answer him, Sa’am. Remember,
Abba (elder), we have already taken a vote. We know how
hard it is for you to accept the gradual disappearance of
the Šutum and you can count on our support throughout
this terrible trial. But today the Gina’abul have begun a
major new chapter in their history. As creators, we must
also be able to accept failure. Our son An is offering us a
second chance, a new lease on life.”
 16. Lahamu asks Sa’am about his coming to the world of
Gina’abul.
 Queen Tigeme continued eloquently: “But what
guarantee do we have that the Anunnas will not suffer the
same fate? An has told us that the Šutum’s infection did not
originate in our stellar system. This can only mean that it was
introduced by enemies of which we were unaware until now.
Your decision notwithstanding, may I repeat that it is
completely premature to want to create a new lineage so soon,
without first having unmasked this new foe, and without being
fully certain that the Anunnas will not be exposed to this
affliction in turn.”
My father-creator stood up:
“Erešgal (great queen), let us not go back on our decision.
We will track this enemy down and punish him. You ask for
guarantees? Know that the Anunnas will have a tremendous
advantage over the Šutum. They will have eternal life, like the
Amašutum and ourselves, thanks to the Gibil’lásu (sloughing
of the skin). This will spare them quite a few annoyances, as it
does the Nindiğir (priestesses), who, I may remind you, have
never been infected by anything!
- Only the Kadištu (planners) have eternal life, replied
the queen dryly. I did not know that you wanted the
Anunnas to act as divine emissaries. At any rate, this is
not something for you to decide alone. You have
withheld this important information from us until now.
As the last of the Ušumgal, we have complete
confidence in you, but we need to have more evidence
for the soundness of your plan. My sons, it is my duty
to suspend this session and decree a new vote at a later
date. Until then, our beloved An must give us more
precise information about his worthy intentions.”
The five Ušumgal did not hide their disapproval. It was
easy to see that the four Kuku (ancestors) were in league with
my progenitor. Kišár, one of An’s creators, took his son’s
defense:
“Ereš (queen), why do you want to annul our vote? An’s
intentions are legitimate. We need warriors to protect us from
possible attack from the outside. We now know that we have
dangerous enemies, we must be extremely vigilant… The
Anunnas will have to travel through space, and so they will
need eternal life.
- Yes, we need a celestial elite that is able to strike at a
moment’s notice. We are too vulnerable. Our painful
past should serve as an example, An added.
- By the Original Source! The only thing I hear you
talk about is war and conflict! For sure, we have a
delicate problem to solve, but I would remind you that
most of my Amašutum are warriors and that they have
always been able to protect us in the past. The
Amašutum from Ğišda (the Hyades) possess the secret
of formidable weapons. They will be able to defend
us.”
 17. Anšár pleads the cause of An and gives his support
for the simultaneous creation of Anunna and Nungal.
 Tigeme was quite annoyed. Seeing that our good queen
was unwilling to accept the plan in its present form, Anšár
boldly took the offensive: “We have been treacherously struck
by evil and we do not know what the future holds. With all due
respect to our Erešgal (great queen), the Nindiğir (priestesses)
of Ğišda (Hyades) are much too far away. As for the females
present in Margíd’da (Ursa Major), they are mystics and not
warriors. I would therefore recommend the creation of two
different types of creatures. The new lineage that we
mentioned, the Anunnas, who will protect us in case of
conflict, and some Kadištu (planners). Indeed, if we wish to
expand our range of action in this universe, we will have to
create individuals who are able to assist the Amašutum. Only
beings endowed with eternal life will be in a position to carry
out such a mission. There are many Amašutum scattered
throughout our galaxy and they will not be able to work far
away from their home forever. I happen to know that many of
them want to come back to us.”
I was unable to see Tigeme’s reaction, for she still stood
behind me. With his impromptu speech, Anšár had touched
upon a sensitive nerve. Our queen spoke again, in a calmer
tone of voice this time.
“So be it! I do not want any disagreements between us. I
am glad to hear your words. Still, I cannot grant eternal life to
soldiers. We will establish two lineages with very long life
spans, but they will not be immortal. According to your new
proposal, it is not normal for these Alağní (clones) to be
asexual. For reasons already known to you, most of the
Kadištu (planners) are sexed. Thus, this new creature will be
able to fertilize the Amašutum. Let us not deprive our race of
being able to bear children naturally, let us not be dominated
by Science. May blood ties be reinstated! That is a very good
proposal.”
I glanced over at An, who seemed uncomfortable. I knew
very well that he wanted to use the Anunnas as warriors, as
soldiers without any notion of sex. He could hardly be
enthusiastic about the idea of producing a second line of
individuals within a sub-race. But this was the only way to get
the queen’s approval for the production of the Anunnas. I had
to placate my creator:
“I will take the sexed ones with me. I will lead the male
Kadištu, the planner-princes, the Nungal (great princes).
- Very well, Sa’am, I appreciate your understanding.
That will be a difficult and noble task, Tigeme replied
from behind me, giving me a pat on the left shoulder.”
This unwitting intervention of mine made me realize in
what part of my being my father-creator had put my new
attributes. Our laws require that each newly-made being be
superior to its creator. It was not in the realm of knowledge
that An had placed my novel qualities: he had endowed me
instead with a kind of reason tempered with thoughtfulness.
An was relieved: “I will take the Anunnas under my
command; the separate ones, the asexuals, those who will
punish our enemies and enforce our commandments in this
universe.”
Our queen spoke again:
“We have been peace-loving beings for a long time, my
son, please do not forget that. We will subjugate only those
who have the audacity to attack us. The new male Gina’abul
will be composed of two groups of individuals. Those placed
under the command of our benevolent An will be the new
guardians of our security. Those under Sa’am’s wing,
seconded by my Nindiğir (priestesses), will be the guardians
of Reason for the sake of Universal Peace. Another thing: I
wish to have two of my most accomplished Nindiğir assist you
in your task. They will help you create the Anunnas and the
Nungal. Those are my only conditions. Are we agreed, my
son?
- May it be done as you wish, Erešgal (great queen),
An replied somewhat stiffly.”
Tigeme turned me around to face her in the midst of the
assembly. There was a strange sparkle in her eyes. She finally
seemed to be satisfied.
 “Before this discussion, we had a long talk with your
creator, who explained his intentions on your behalf. You are a
unique prototype, Sa’am, and the beginning of a new vision.
An created you as an exceptional being in order to persuade us
of his intentions in giving life to a new lineage. You are the
first specimen of this line. The beings created with our cells
will resemble you, but they will not have the extraordinary
abilities of the Ušumgal that your creator passed on to you. We
have also come to an agreement: the Anunnas and the Nungal
will enjoy long lives, but they will not be immortal. An wants
you at his side to help him with his noble plan. You will create
and be in charge of the Nungal, who will support the
Amašutum together with our allies, the Kadištu (planners). As
for our son An, he will be responsible for the Anunnas, who
will protect us, should problems arise. Bless your father-
creator, it is to him that you owe the honor of being a
remarkable creature and that you have the opportunity to live
as one.”
I bowed to An, saying: “I bless and glorify you, my
creator, for all of these benefits!”
Our queen spoke once more: “Good, I think that we can
get on with the process now. Go, my children. Go your
separate ways and do your work well!”
And so we set to work. An had not obtained exactly what
he wanted, but we had been granted the creation of the
Anunnas. For my part, I found myself producing creatures
whose existence had not been anticipated by the plans of my
father-creator.
 18. Terracotta reptilian head found at Choga Mami
(Iraq), Samarra period (6th millennium B.C). Although
somewhat too vertical, it exhibits the typical elongated
head of the Gina’abul (lizards). Compare with the male
and female figures in chapters 4 and 5 of Part II.
 Ninmah, the Grand Priestess of Nalulkára
“Elohim is like an architect Above and is the supreme
Mother; but as an architect of Below, he is the presence of
Below. A wife should never undertake anything without her
husband, and so it is with all the constructions that belong to
the Proximal.
Also, the supreme Father[29] (Original Source) speaks to
the supreme Mother in order to say: ‘May these constructions
be so or so’. And they are so immediately.”
The Zohar, Tiquon Ha-Zohar, 22a(4)
Ж

Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Dili-ME-Ía

An and I returned to the Uanna in order to build some
more Siensišár (artificial womb). Tons of crystals lay in the
deep belly of the Uanna and awaited their machining.
After having gotten underway and finished about fifteen,
we realized that we would not be able to make as many as we
had expected. We would have to obtain some more from the
Amašutum, a prospect that my maker did not particularly
relish. I decided to contact Tigeme and ask her to send a
delegation of priestesses.
Among them was Ninmah, their leader and one of the two
who had been appointed to assist us. I could not say whether
this female was pleasant to look at, but she did have a daunting
gaze, one that imposed respect and that was not easy for a non-
initiate to withstand. I had the ineffable sensation of knowing
her already, which was impossible. She appeared clothed in a
long tight-fitting, short-sleeved white dress with a slit in the
back and silvery ribbons to tie it. Ninmah seemed sure of
herself and I would probably not be wrong in saying that she
was proud to a fault. We had already heard of this priestess,
who was notorious for her gloomy moods and sudden fits of
rage. But now she was out of luck, because she was forced to
deal with one of the meanest of the Ušumgal, and no doubt the
most misogynous of them all.
 Ninmah was very forward, and hovered around me like a
predator over its prey. She kept frowning, apparently puzzled
by my features. She inspected me from top to bottom and then
requested that she be able to work with the “young Am” (the
young lord). My father-creator retorted dryly that she would
have to work with him. He reassured her by adding that we
possessed the same scientific knowledge and that it would be a
pleasure for him to initiate her personally into the creation of a
new type of Alağní (clone). Ninmah’s gaze seemed to relax at
this and she suddenly became a bit more docile. But this did
not keep her from throwing me pointed glances. This female
was a great manipulator and we had just had a good
demonstration of it. Knowing my creator as I did, I was sure
that he would be able to keep her in check without too much
trouble—and not a little pleasure.
I asked Ninmah if she knew the female who would assist
me. She muttered that it would be the Ama (Mother) who
taught the Amašutum Kadištu (planners) on planet Earth, and
that she was on her way after having been expressly
summoned by our queen. I asked for her name, but Ninmah
said she did not know and suggested that I ask Tiamata[30] the
title that the priestesses used in referring to the Queen. I would
have to get accustomed to using this title in the presence of our
makers of life. It was hard to believe that Ninmah did not
know the name of the remarkable Amašutum who was coming
to help us.
The planet Uraš[31], located in the Ti-ama-te System (Solar
System), is the prime center of our universe. The Kadištu
(planners) gave the name of Ti-ama-te to this stellar system in
homage to our queen, who had done much to bringing peace to
this part of the heavens. In the Gina’abul language, Ti-ama-te
means “the place where compassion and life meet,” for this
was a place where conditions were being experimented upon
to permit the co-existence of countless forms of life. Not only
that but the planet Uraš was located at the junction of many
galactic routes. It was there that most of our best-qualified
priestesses worked together with our planner allies.
In the very distant past, the galactic community decided to
create a prodigious race of androgynous individuals on Uraš
called the Namlú’u[32]. A number of our allies contributed
various parts of their bodies to their creation. Planners like the
Ameli gave them the main element of their marvelous semi-
etheric bodies. All the planners had contributed something of
their bodies to create the Namlú’u. It is said that the latter were
magnificent beings, the product of the combined scientific
knowledge of all the Kadištu (planners). Because of this, they
were, in a manner of speaking, the living guardians of the
knowledge of our universe. The female Gina’abul were the
only Kadištu who did not participate in the cellular association
of the creatures of Uraš, for they were not yet associated with
the planners when these creatures were being made.
Nevertheless, the Amašutum administrated Uraš and its
inhabitants for many Limamu (millennia) in the name of our
proud race. I was surprised to hear that I would be working
with the Ama Planner and Chief Administrator of Uraš.
 19. Ninmah, high priestess of Nalulkára and daughter
of Queen Tiamata
 Assisted by the Amašutum who had arrived with Ninmah,
we set up all their matrices next to the ones that we had
already made. Then we made our thanks to the female
Gina’abul and invited them to leave the Uanna. Only Ninmah
and two Amašutum pilots remained behind. After that, we had
to make sure that everything was functioning properly. Since
the tests were affirmative, An asked me to return to Nalulkára
to pick up the frozen cells that we needed. Ninmah had no
other choice than to travel with me, for the Amašutum are the
guardians of the genetic heritage of our race. Our mission was
kept top secret, for none of the priestesses were supposed to
know about our project. Ninmah, in effect, was the guarantee
that we would be able to obtain the valuable cells.
We took the last Amašutum Margíd’da (chariot from afar)
that had remained on board the Uanna. It was of the Mága’an
type, a cargo ship of colossal[33] size that had been used to
transport some of the Siensišár. The two female pilots brought
us to back the surface of our planet fairly quickly. It was a
pleasant enough trip, but Ninmah kept staring at me, as if
trying to force our eyes to meet. This female did not know that
I had inherited the Ušumgal’s telepathic powers and that I had
no trouble guessing what preoccupied her. As a matter of fact,
I was surprised at this, because priestesses were known to be
able to conceal their thoughts. All the same, Ninmah’s
thoughts were so troubled at the time that she was unable to
keep them under control. The priestess underestimated me
and did not seem to know about my Ušumgal origins. Could I
blame her? How long had it been since she had seen a male in
good health? Ninmah was also wondering if I were HE, but I
did not know whom she could be thinking about. She was also
telling herself that this would be a propitious day for her, since
she would be getting teachings from An—an Ušumgal—which
was a real privilege, and she would be able to copulate with
the first male exemplar of a new sub-race. I was in a delicate
position. Considering my anatomy, I was in no position to
satisfy her, but being a male Gina’abul it was my duty to
accept the advances of an Amašutum priestess, all the more so
as they came from the most famous priestess of Nalulkára!
Such is our law. Until then, in fact, the males had been nothing
but docile reproducers and farmers working in the service of
the race. That is why I could easily understand my creator’s
concerns, as well as his wayward desire to change the course
of our history. Only the seven Kuku (ancestors) knew the true
nature of my being. As Ušumgal themselves, they had to keep
this secret; it was no business of the Gina’abul. I told myself
that I would have to improvise something with Ninmah when
the time came.
Our ship landed at Ankida, the city where all the genetic
records of our race were stored. It must have been night for a
little less than half a Danna (one Earth hour), for I could see
the pale light of the coming day dawning in the northwest. The
Andurana system has several suns, and so there is practically
no night to speak of. Ninmah proudly stepped out of the cargo
ship and took the lead. I followed her, closely escorted by the
two female pilots. Our small group filed past the tall buildings
until we reached the main depository. It was rather cool inside
the building. Outside the room where the cells were stored we
were greeted by a party of priestesses who had been expecting
us. One of them spoke in the secret dialect of the priestesses,
Emešà (the “womb language”), and mumbled something I did
not catch. I was only able to make out the name of Tiamata.
Then they started walking away and I saw that we would have
to follow them. Ninmah whispered to me that Tiamata
urgently wished to speak to us. This was getting very
mysterious indeed. We soon came to the main square of the
city, where the queen’s royal ship was waiting for us to enter.
When we finally stood before Tiamata, the stern
expression of her eyes immediately told me that the situation
was serious. Although the problem seemed to concern only
me, Ninmah stayed, while the other priestesses solemnly filed
out of the room.
“My son, I have very sad news for you. Shortly after our
last discussion, Ninmah brought me the laboratory results for
the Šutum’s disease. The conclusions reached by my Dumumí
(daughters) are rather disconcerting. Contrary to what we
expected, the infection that has struck our males does not seem
to be of exoplanetary origin at all. In fact, all the essential
elements can be found on our own planet. Both of you know
as well as I do that the disease did not just happen by itself. It
was deliberately developed and it could only have been the
work of an intelligent but evil being. Our enemy is much more
sinister than we had imagined. I would even say that we have
seriously underestimated him! What do you think, my son?
- Why do you ask me this strange question, noble Ereš
(queen)?
- An, your creator, has always claimed that the
Šutum’s disease did not originate here, and we
believed him. But the research conducted by my
Dumumí (daughters) reveals that this is not the case.
As the Alağní (clone) of our beloved son, I would like
you to explain this surprising error to me.”
Ninmah glared at me accusingly, as if hoping to see me
caught off guard. Her smile triggered the program embedded
deep in my being: an Alağní (clone) created by an Ušumgal
must not fail in his task! I was not afraid of death, but could
not bear the thought of my creator being humiliated. Although
I did not realize it at the time, my answer was to turn the
course of Gina’abul history:
“I would have preferred to disclose this secret to you under
different circumstances. No, it is not an error on your son’s
part, but a deliberate scheme to punish the traitors. Our
enemies have been unmasked and the impending creation of
the Anunnas is the real reason for all of this!
- Tell me, then, what is the name of this enemy?
- It is not up to me to reveal it to you, my Erešgal
(great queen). It is high time for my creator to
announce it himself.
- Very well, I thank you, Sa’am. I am going to have a
talk with An. You will surely understand that I cannot
let you have the cells for the time being. Abzu-Abba is
very suspicious. He sees traitors everywhere. But it
will all work out, we only have to give him time and
be indulgent with him. However, we cannot allow An
to make the law in our name. You will remain here
until I have spoken with your father-creator.”
 20. Sa’am faces Queen Tiamata and tries to explain to
her about Šutum disease.
 In order to save face, I had become a traitor to my own
people. Although I had few elements at my disposal when I
was created, I had gradually discovered the purpose of my
mission and, like any good soldier, I followed the instructions
built into in the depths of my being. Instinctively, I had just
used an old war trick inherited from my creator. Thanks to my
deception, An had gained the confidence of our queen and was
in a position to benefit from the future division of our allies,
the better to put his plan into effect. Was he testing me? No
matter, I thought that I had done pretty well and it was time for
An to take the rest of the project in hand himself. Tiamata
turned to Ninmah.
“Sa’am will stay here in Ankida. Please grant him the
favor of your presence and respect him as your equal. The two
of you will wait for the return of my Dumumí (daughter)
Mamítu-Nammu. The last I heard was that her Gigirlah
(sparkling wheel) would be arriving in the city’s Diranna[34]
(star gate) in the course of the day.
- Good, Erešgal (great queen)… May it be as you
wish!”
Gigirlah (sparkling wheel) was the term used by our
priestesses for the Margíd’da (chariots from afar) of the
Gina’abul. This expression seemed to be both more precise
and more amusing than the one used by the males, which only
made a silly association with the name of the constellation in
which our colonies have been established for several Limamu
(millennia).
Ninmah was visibly upset. No male had ever been the
equal of a priestess, at least as far as I could know. Not only
that, but her bad faith had been exposed: now I knew the name
of the priestess who was going to work with me. Her functions
and the fact that she was one of the queen’s own daughters
told me that Ninmah could not help but know her. In our
language, the name “Mamítu-Nammu” means that she is the
“creator-voyager” in charge of divine decrees, a maker of life
and decider of fate. I must admit that I was quite impressed.
 When we left the royal Gigirlah (sparkling wheel), the
stars were already disappearing in the radiance of the dawning
day. Tiamata’s ship rose gently behind us. The morning horns
sounded throughout the city; the Amašutum would be getting
up after their short night’s rest. We Gina’abul do not need
much sleep.
Ninmah took me around the city. From the knowledge
that I had inherited from my creator, I knew only the
depository. In spite of its importance, the city of Ankida is not
very large. The stone walls of the houses are richly adorned
with carved designs. The temples are all pyramidal, decorated
with frescoes and rather impressive, but not as high as those of
our capital.
During our tour, Ninmah no longer stared at me as she
had done before. She seemed bothered, and I behaved rather
indifferently towards her. Her head bowed, she told me about
her education and briefly touched upon her initiation in the
Ğišda stellar system (the Hyades). Ğišda is a very sacred place
for our priestesses, because it is there that they had established
themselves after the Great War against a hostile lineage that I
knew nothing about at the time. Ninmah told me how she had
been able to rise to the position of high priestess of Nalulkára
and play an important role vis à vis the queen. I stopped
listening: she had an insufferable ego and her company was
hard to bear. Luckily, a sudden deafening roar saved me from
the clutches of my guide. It was the powerful sound of a
Gigirlah (sparkling wheel) passing through a star gate.
We followed the long path marked on the ground that led
to the city’s principal Diranna (star gate). Several Amašutum
had gathered there to greet the spaceship. It was a type of
Gigirlah that was still unknown to me, probably a model
developed by our priestesses in the Ti-ama-te system, which
includes the planet Uraš (Earth). The ship was still giving off
smoke and radiating heat on all sides.
These famous star gates have always been of great utility
to those who master the technique of space travel. Each planet
has many Diranna. We Gina’abul tend to build our largest
cities in the vicinity of the gates with the highest density. I
should explain that Diranna are accesses to special vortices
where time literally collapses on itself through the
concentration of light particles, for high concentrations of light
have an inhibitory effect on time. These tunnels are made of
particles traveling at such high speeds that time is totally
neutralized. The repulsive gravitation exerted by light forms a
so-called negative energy. The density of supra-luminous
particles defines the stability of vortices and their possible use
by living beings. However, some galactic pathways can show
signs of instability. If a vortex collapses during its passage,
thermal death is inevitable. Our ships have devices that allow
us to check the general condition of a vortex before it is used.
Countless atemporal vortices exist. To use an anatomical
analogy, they are roughly comparable to the blood vessels that
bring nutrients to the organs of a living body. They work in the
same way on the scale of exoplanetary geometry, connecting
all the planets, just as each star system is connected to those
near it, and all the “island universes” (or galaxies) with each
other, and so on…[35] But for us, time is not very important,
and we sometimes travel through space in more traditional
manners. Generally speaking, the Kadištu (planners) often use
the Diranna (star gates) for practical reasons. We also have
other kinds of aircraft that do not use the Diranna at all and
never fly above the atmosphere.
 21. Detail of a mural from Teotihuacan (Mexico)
representing the “god of time” traveling in his sky-bark. In
the 1970s and 80s, the Swiss author Erich Von Däniken
came into conflict with the scientific community by claiming
that the Mayan sarcophagus lid from Palenque (next
illustration) depicted a pilot at the controls of his spaceship.
Unfortunately for disbelievers, the figure in the Pre-
Columbian mural of Teotihuacan, at least 2000 years old
and over 400 miles away from Palenque, represents exactly
the same thing: namely, a pilot holding levers that permit
him to fly a machine that is clearly spitting out fire in the
back. Däniken’s interpretation is worth careful
reconsideration.
 22. The stone lid of the sarcophagus from Palenque.
Archaeologists believe that this stone relief represents a high
dignitary, probably King Pacal being sent to the Mayan
underworld, Xibalba. Others see it as a cosmic tree growing
out of King Pacal.
 23. The aeronautics engineer John Sanderson is
convinced that the Palenque relief represents the cross-
section of a flying ship. His detailed diagram gives a three-
dimensional view of the mechanics of what seems to be more
of a space capsule (Erich Von Däniken, Meine Welt in
Bildern, Frankfurt, 1984). In vol. 2 of this series, we will see
that this kind of ship is called a Tumuá, and that it had more
affinities with a motorcycle than with a spaceship. The
Tumuá did not leave the Earth’s atmosphere, but could
travel at very high speeds.
 MAMÍTU-NAMMU, THE GREAT PLANNER OF
URAŠ
”In China, the Mother of the Universe and of the first
human beings
was called Nügua (or Nü Wa)[36]. After the creation of the
Heavens and the Earth,
the Mother-Goddess grabbed a handful of mud at the
water’s edge
and started modeling it to create a small shape with two
arms and two legs.
She had barely put it on the ground when it came to life
and started frolicking in the grass at her feet.
Satisfied with the result, Nügua continued fashioning
more beings,
and this was the origin of the first humans…
Since her work required too much effort, she dipped a
vine in the mud
and stirred it around. The drops that scattered became
little human creatures…
It is said that Nügua (Nü Wa) had a human head and the
body of a serpent.”(6)(7)
Chinese legend of the Mother-Goddess in the Tai Ping
Yu Lan
(Taiping Imperial Encyclopedia) and the Chu Ci
(Songs of the Chu).
“8:23 I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning,
or ever the earth was.
8:24 When there were no depths [of the Earth], I was
brought forth…
When he [God, the Original Source incarnated by the
Kadištu]
established the clouds above…
 when he appointed the foundations of the earth,
then I was by him, as one brought up with him…
Rejoicing always before him.
Rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth;
and my delights were with the sons of men.”(8)
Proverbs 8:23-31
Δ

Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Dili-ME-Àš

Ninmah seemed nervous. She took position at the foot of
the spaceship while I was asked to stand at a distance. A first
group of priestesses emerged from the Gigirlah (sparkling
wheel) and was immediately followed by several other
females accompanying an important personage whom I
immediately recognized as being the great planner of Uraš.
She wore a magnificent emerald on her forehead and was
clothed in a skirt dyed in the royal color of the Amašutum, the
green color of the Uğa-Muš (People of the Serpent), was
embroidered in Kùsig (gold) and decorated with the symbol of
the two crossed Muš (serpents). Uğa-Muš is the name that the
Kadištu (planners) gave to the Amašutum and to the
priestesses who worked far away from home for the glory of
our race.
The celebrated priestess was welcomed by Ninmah,
who motioned in my direction by way of introducing me.
Mamítu-Nammu, who radiated a solemn grace, nodded with a
friendly gesture of the head and, with that, the procession left
for the center of the city. The Amašutum who were grouped
around me realized that I must be an important person and
some of them even forgot that they were in the presence of a
male—at least in appearance. For my part, I was overcome by
so much feminine beauty. The royal procession was already
far ahead, filing into the main avenue and making its way to
one of the temples. I obviously did not belong here. I had been
perfunctorily introduced to Mamítu, but the ceremonies of the
priestesses were strictly forbidden to all but the Amašutum.
Not even an Ušumgal could participate.
 24. Ninmah and Sa’am receive Nammu at the foot of his
device from Uraš (Earth).
 Basically, my mission was to return to the Uanna, but I
could not leave without taking the cells and the two priestesses
back with me. There was nothing I could do but stay and wait
for the ceremonies to end. I squatted down in the central
square and began to meditate. I enjoyed the sudden calm of the
place, which was completely deserted. I knew perfectly well
that the talks between Tiamata and An had taken a satisfactory
turn and that my father-creator was patiently awaiting our
return.
At some time in the mid-afternoon, I heard the
priestesses getting underway again in the distance, which
meant that the solemnities had just finished. I headed for the
main depository. I was joined there a short while later by
Mamítu and Ninmah to proceed with the selection of the
frozen cells. Ninmah proudly declared having been granted the
authorization to do so by Tiamata. I kept silent: the two
priestesses understood that I already knew this. Ninmah asked
us to wait at the entrance, explaining that she did not need our
help to choose the cells. She had received directions from An
personally. I was rather astonished to hear this, but assumed
that my creator knew what he was doing. Mamítu seemed to
be just as surprised by this announcement, but I told her that
we had to trust An.
There was a long wait, during which I was able to observe
the priestess of Uraš more closely. Mamítu remained discreet
and silent. Her saffron eyes gave me a piercing gaze, then
seemed to be entirely absorbed with my hands. When Ninmah
finally came back, she was carrying two heavy cases. We
loaded the precious shipment into the cargo Gigirlah and
immediately took off for the return trip to the Uanna. Mamítu-
Nammu and Ninmah sat next to each other, but did not speak.
Ninmah still seemed to be disturbed by something… possibly
by Nammu’s presence. The grand priestess of Uraš (the Earth)
is a rather quiet female and I had the feeling that her aura had
sufficed to temper Ninmah’s impetuosity. I believed that her
wisdom was such that she could master all kinds of situations.
Many indiscretions were peddled about her. It was said that the
great Nammu held ancestral knowledge about our origins and
that she met several of our dark ancestors. It did not fit with
the relatively modest age attributed to her. She could not have
known the Great War! Many feared her because of her secrets.
Her frequent contact with the Kadištu (planners) and the
obscure languages she spoke did not help her sulphurous
reputation. My creator An said of Nammu that she possessed
the acid poison of the fire dialects, that she lived in the distant
and mystical past of the Mušidim as well as in the ancient
reality of Barbélú, the fallen queen. Was Mamítu-Nammu the
Primordial Matrix evoked by the dark high altar shortly after
my creation? Or did she have this mysterious object that I had
to hand over to An?
Like Ninmah, I could not really say if she was really
beautiful, but the depth of her gaze and the gentleness of her
features inspired a sort of goodness in me. Let me change
that… she was very beautiful! I felt comfortable at her side,
and this feeling troubled me deeply. From the moment we
were back at the Uanna, I could sense An grinning to himself.
Was this because of Mamítu’s physical appearance or because
of her aura? Knowing my creator, I would guess it was
because of the latter.
An immediately informed us of an important change in
the project. He told us that the queen had advised him to
produce the Anunnas outside of our stellar system until things
had calmed down—and also to fool the enemy. After hearing
this, Mamítu spoke for the first time and asked my creator:
“Which enemy do you mean, noble Ušumgal ?
- I am sorry to have to tell you this, Nindiğir
(priestess), but it is the Sukkal! It is our so-called
brothers who are responsible for the sickness of our
males.
- That’s impossible! The Sukkal are our most faithful
allies. What proof do you have that…
- Please temper your words, Amašutum! You are no
longer in the Ti-ama-te System (Solar System), much
less on Uraš (the Earth). For now, you are under my
command and that of Sa’am. Consider yourself
fortunate that my Alağní (clone) has been so patient
 with you until now. You are no longer the Ereš (queen)
of a bunch of natives basking in the sun and taking
advantage of the good will of the Gina’abul. Know
that I have already given account to Tigeme (Tiamata).
If you wish to have a detailed report of our
conversation, you can ask her for it. But I doubt
whether she has enough time to tell the same story to
each of the Amašutum who wants to seek her counsel,
no matter how prestigious they may be. We are at war,
Nindiğir (priestess), and you are in the service of the
Gina’abul!”
An was being equal to his reputation. Mamítu fell silent,
but stared at my creator in a way that no one else would have
dared. Indeed, few creatures had ever talked to her in such a
manner before. An returned her gaze without flinching. Since
Mamítu-Nammu lacked the powers of the Ušumgal and my
creator was capable of disciplining her severely, I hastened to
intervene: “Father, now that we are reunited again, we should
lose no time in getting back to work.”
An replied, but without taking his eyes away from the
planner of Uraš (the Earth):
« Tigeme expressed the wish that you and Mamítu stay on
Nalulkára and proceed with the creation of the male Kadištu
(planners), or Nungal. For my part, I will go with Ninmah to
our colony in the Ubšu’ukkinna[37] system of Mulmul (the
Pleiades) to create the Anunnas. My own progenitor, Anšár,
who is in command there, and Kišár will accompany me.
Lahmu and Lahamu will remain here. As you are already
aware, we have to keep our plan secret. We will keep each
other informed as work progresses.
- Very well, father, but Nammu and I have to collect
the necessary Siensišár (artificial wombs) as soon as
possible.”
I noticed a certain irritation in An’s face. Mamítu turned
to me and spoke: “No, Sa’am, I doubt that your creator is
going to give back that which has given him so much trouble
to obtain. As far as I know, the Ubšu’ukkinna system in
Mulmul (the Pleiades) has very few Siensišár (artificial
wombs). We, the Amašutum, will give him these Siensišár as
proof of our good faith and the trust that we have in his noble
task. He will use them to best advantage in the service of
peace for the Gina’abul.”
Mamítu’s wish obliged An to give her his blessings. He
had no choice but to bow and thank her, which he did with
little grace. Mamítu made a farewell gesture to Ninmah and
we returned to the cargo Gigirlah. The two Amašutum pilots
unloaded the cases with the cells that An and Ninmah would
need for their work, and then our ship took off for Nalulkára.
We left my creator and Ninmah behind in the hands of Fate.
The implacable conspiracy thus closed on me! Naively, I had
provided her with the primordial matrices of the priestesses. I
concluded at this moment that my mission consisted, not in
attracting the great planner towards my creator, but to provide
him with the holy wombs in crystals able to finalize his plan
…
During the trip back to our planet, An sent me a message
by Kinsağ (telepathy), ordering me to keep a good eye on
Mamítu and do everything in my power to limit her contact
with the Kadištu. An also advised me not to let myself be
dominated by the priestesses: “They are representatives of
Gissu (the Shadow) and a danger to our plan” he explained.
My creator obviously did not trust them, and yet I had the
feeling that there was something much deeper afoot,
something that I was still unable to grasp.
An praised me for my efforts so far and said that if I ever
found myself in a difficult situation with the Ušumgal, he had
confidence that I would make the right decision. It was clear to
me why he wanted to warn me of danger, for if his plan were
discovered prematurely, I would become target number one…
 Part Two GENESIS OF THE
NUNGAL AND THE ANUNNA
 The Creation of the Nungal
“The traditions of the ancient Turks of the Orkhon claimed
that the goddess Umaï or Maï[38] was the mightiest of all the
goddesses. This goddess, who was often identified
with the ‘Mother of cradles,’ had the task
of ‘multiplying the older and younger brothers and sisters.’
Her name means ‘WOMB!’”
Text from runic inscriptions of the ancient Turks of the
Orkhon (9)

₪
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Dili
Mamítu’s talk with An had left her with an uneasy feeling.
Our relationship continued as before; that is, reserved. She was
disconcerted by the fact that my creator had told her to be at
my service. Yet she had no choice but to obey, for an
Amašutum has to comply with the orders of an Ušumgal. On
the other hand, the urgent situation imposed by our queen
would involve future complications to be resolved. For my
part, even if Mamítu was only supposed to assist me, as the
queen wished, I had to follow the planner’s instructions as to
where we would undertake the creation of the Nungal. Not
only that, but she was the only person authorized to provide us
with Siensišár; the priestesses had the artificial wombs in their
possession and that was one of the reasons for their presence
in the Confederation of Kadištu (planners). In our language,
the word Siensišár literally means “which assembles the many
dignitaries in order.” This term referred to the artificial wombs
used by the females to clone living beings, which were
generally created to colonize or govern new territories
administrated by the Gina’abul.
Mamítu-Nammu went about the task as well as she could.
She ordered the high priestesses to collect all the Siensišár
they could find on the planet. The appointed priestesses
displayed much good will and, at first, their dedication to our
mission even seemed a bit exaggerated. In the days that
followed, the precious Siensišár arrived from all corners of the
planet, and from the farthest reaches of our solar system as
well. In all, the priestesses managed to find only 342. Not
many were left, since An had taken off with a shipment of
1,200 Siensišár graciously contributed by the Amašutum.
Our females had never seen so many Siensišár (artificial
matrixes) at one time. Being immortal themselves, they
seldom had occasion to produce female Alağní (clones). They
created them only under special circumstances and according
to their needs.
For practical reasons, Mamítu decided to bring our
creation room closer to the stock of frozen cells. So we moved
all of our Siensišár to a warehouse in Ankida. In this place
consecrated by the holy prayers of our most illustrious
Amašutum, we were going to create the male planners.
◆◆◆

On the eve before going into production, I inspected the

lot and was surprised to discover that many of the wombs
seemed to be out of order. Some appeared to be very ancient,
and there were models about which I had no information at all.
To save time, I started activating the devices that I was
familiar with. Of the 342 Siensišár available, 81 were out of
commission or showed signs of irreparable wear. I had no idea
how we would be able to get the job done.
 25. Sa’am moves and tests the older Siensišár before the
start of serial cloning.
 After a hard day’s work, I returned to the apartment that I
had been assigned to in the center of Ankida. Uppermost on
my mind was the discussion that I had had the day before with
Lahmu and Lahamu. They had come to me on their own
initiative and informed me of their intention to “help curtail
the suffering” of the affected Šutum. It was of the essence to
make “room” for the coming Anunna, since the latter were
logically destined to live in the Abzu (subterranean world) of
Nalulkára. That, in any case, was the official version
proclaimed by our king and queen, but something told me that
events were going to take quite a different turn…
Nevertheless, I was more confident now, for I had finally
been able to figure out how the ancient wombs worked. It was
late enough, and the new day was going to dawn soon. I went
to sleep for a few moments, for I had not slept in four days.
On the following day, the long-awaited moment finally
came. Early in the morning, Mamítu-Nammu and I took our
time in carefully sorting the different types of cells that we
would be using. During the selection process, the planner in
charge noticed with some surprise that a great number of cells
were missing. She checked the register to see if there had been
any undue withdrawals, but everything seemed to have been
properly recorded. The only cells in the register were the ones
that Ninmah had taken with her. Nammu and I had the same
reflex and looked at each other: we both had our suspicions.
As it was, no less than a quarter of the genetic heritage of our
race had disappeared without a trace! Mamítu said that we
would have to report this to the queen as soon as possible. The
incident ended there and we went back to the warehouse with
the cells that we had selected.
Mamítu expressed the wish to reprogram the genes first, in
order to produce the best specimens possible. We were both
experts in this kind of manipulation, and making an effort in
this direction certainly guaranteed producing optimally
reliable Nungal clones. But where to find the time? There was
always the possibility that the permission for this project could
be withdrawn at any moment. Yet there was another reason for
me to take this option: namely, consanguinity. This was an
important point—especially for my creator—for it permitted
the creation of a specific blood, an unalterable lineage of
princely descent. I did not mention this to the planner from
Uraš (Earth) for fear of betraying An. It was absolutely
essential to gain time and finish our task as soon as possible.
This meant forgetting the idea of doing any lengthy and
elaborate programming and making do with the cells that we
had. In any case, was sure that we would find what we needed
among the many cells selected from our genetic library. But
Mamítu could not fathom my decision. She tried her best to
figure out the reasons for my obstinacy, without succeeding.
Not only that, but, apart from the fact of using cells that we
had not programmed ourselves, she thought it irresponsible not
to conduct tests before beginning with the production. I felt a
power rise in her, unable to determine if it was anger or
something else. All this long journey to respond to the request
of his mother Tiamata and her presence at my side to finally
attend only a simulacrum of creation! I saw her struggle to
overcome the vertigo of dishonor, but I had to stand firm once
more and asked her to trust me.
In the genetic library there were genes belonging to our
distant ancestors, the Mušidim. Nammu strongly insisted that
we not touch it. Finally, after many discussions and trips
between the depository and the warehouse, we finally settled
on the cells of an adult Šutum that, in our opinion, had the best
profile and characteristics to be used as the genetic material
for the Nungal clones. Our information about this specimen
mentioned that it was an improved prototype developed by
Abzu-Abba when the Šutum were initially created. What
extraordinary luck! This strain had not been pursued, but
discontinued. It was a male thought to be too sophisticated at
the time due to his ability to regenerate his tissues. This
specimen had an enhanced lifespan and was too highly
perfected for the humble tasks expected of the male farmers.
According to our information, the specimen was in perfect
health when the cell samples were taken. For some reason, he
had lived only three days after that and then been terminally
de-activated. Mamítu seemed to be offended at not being able
to program and create by herself. She had been made to come
all this way—for this! Her planner ethics had a hard time
accepting this. What I was half-heartedly offering her was
little more than plagiarism.
We took a sample of somatic, non-reproductive cell. After
having isolated the adult cell, we had to remove the membrane
and make its nucleus fuse with the membrane of a de-
nucleated ovum. The fusion between the nucleus with the
genetic material of the Šutum and its membrane was done by
applying discharges of electricity. The new egg cell obtained
in this manner was placed inside a crystalline time-accelerator
to make it capable of multiplying rapidly and indefinitely.
When the multiplication was finished, we had a large quantity
of functional eggs, each of which was an exact copy of the
original. All the egg cells had the same genes, or the same
genetic information contributed by the Šutum donor. Lastly,
we harvested the ovules cultivated in the quartz[39] container
and injected them one by one into the waiting Siensišár
(artificial wombs).
This was the most elementary type of cloning that could
be done, since it required no preliminary programming on our
part. The entire Nungal line would be issued from the same
donor and represent a perfect reflection of the original Šutum,
with each individual developing differently according to its
needs and environment. Only the acquired physical
characteristics and consanguinity would be identical.
I realized in the process that my father-creator would
have to proceed differently in creating the Anunna. He would
have to completely re-program the genes in the chosen cell
nucleus before allowing it to multiply. An had engaged in the
same kind of manipulation on the genetic material from which
I had been created. Since, in a general way, the genes control
the various functions in living organisms, the important thing
was determining which genes would be kept and which would
be mutated or eliminated. An had the knowledge for such
complex tasks and had transmitted it to me, but I made no use
of it at this particular time.
An’s purpose was to produce warriors, living war
machines that would blindly follow orders, genetic slaves. But
why had he taken so many cells with him? Creating soldiers
surely did not require so many trials that it would be necessary
to sacrifice so much genetic material. Theoretically, once he
had chosen a certain type of genetic configuration and run a
few tests, a single cell would have sufficed.
In purely technical terms, the creation of the Anunna was
going to be a much more exalted task than creating the
Nungal. There was not much that Nammu could learn from
our particular undertaking. Her important functions on Uraš
(Earth) and her relationship with the Kadištu (planners) had
taught her how to manipulate and assemble different and more
complex types of genes. Mamítu did her best to find
something to be proud of in working on this project; I could
tell as much by scanning her mind. But she was also anxious
to return to Uraš, the green and blue planet that was her true
home, back to the venerable Namlú’u, the living guardians of
the knowledge of our universe. I sincerely hoped that her wish
would be granted.
There was great excitement on all sides as the 259
Siensišár finally went into operation, filling the room with an
overwhelming, droning sound. Once the procedure was
underway, we had to keep checking the growth of the
individual Alağní (clones). Several priestesses assisted us in
this task, for it was impossible to keep an eye on so many
wombs at the same time. We had to be very vigilant: the
bodies developed quickly, and the slightest error could be fatal
to the beings in gestation.
 26. Nungal serial cloning room where old and new
artificial matrices mix.
 27. Illustration from the funerary Egyptian text of the
Amduat, found in the tomb of Thutmose III (18th dynasty);
6th hour, register 1, 5th scene. A priestess called the
“Worshipper of God” watches over three artificial wombs in
which bodies called “images” are in the process of
formation. At the top of each of the wombs is an egg
fertilized by a spermatozoon. The text explains: “The flesh
rejoices. The head speaks after having gathered its limbs.
These are the secret images of the Duat. ‘Those who are on
their bellies [the snakes] protect them.’ When Ra [the light]
illuminates their darkness, the head speaks after having
been summoned by the Worshipper of God.”
 After 3 ½ Danna (7 Earth hours), two ancient Siensišár
(artificial wombs) in the rear of the warehouse
imploded with a deafening blast. At this stage of the creation
process the bodies had long developed beyond the fetal stage
and all their limbs were completely formed. This incident
hardly affected the attending priestesses, who seemed to be
accustomed to cloning accidents. Yet one of the unfortunate
Alağní (clones) was still alive and breathing irregularly, and
all I did was look on impassively. The Amašutum stared at me.
When they saw that I was not going to intervene, one of them
mustered her courage and, taking a pair of Zirzi, put the poor
creature out of its misery. Mamítu was away when this
happened, and when she came back, the priestesses did
nothing to hide their contempt for me. The planner of Uraš
grasped the situation immediately and gave me a look that sent
a chill up my spine. I was no different than a mere Búluğ
(novice) who had just been caught doing something stupid.
Only then did I realize that the Amašutum were beings
endowed with an uncommon sensitivity. Mamítu-Nammu
addressed me in an ironic tone of voice: “I almost forgot that
you were one of An’s offsprings… is an Alağní (clone) to
blame if it cannot go against its own nature?”
I could have replied, but decided against it. She was right.
Her words had not surprised me at all, contrary to her
expectation, and she somehow noticed this. What amazed me,
however, was that I had recognized my mistake, knowing full
well that An himself would never have stood for this kind of
treatment. With her remark, Nammu had freed me of an
enormous burden and made me realize—unbeknownst to her
—that I could see things differently than my creator. How
could this be? My creation was turning into a real mystery.
How could I be considered An’s double when I seemed to
have an identity of my own? Although he had given me the
stature of a Šutum or a female, I still carried a large part of his
own history. What did he have in mind by creating me like
this? Plunged in these existential questions, I looked at all the
artificial wombs and wondered about the toxic legacy that we
were perhaps bequeathing to the Nungal. Like me, they had
been programmed, but in terms of considerations that were
largely unknown to me. According to my information, the
cells of the Šutum donor had been derived from mutated
prototypes, all traces of which had subsequently been lost. We
knew that the donor had been a creature endowed with reason
and in good health when the sample cells were taken. Owing
to his short life, however, we had no details about his
psychological make-up. This has always been a risk in
cloning, especially when the cells belonged to an unknown
individual who had lived a short life and, what’s more, a very
long time ago.
These questions about myself had been haunting me since
the day of my creation. They kept me from using my abilities
to the fullest and correctly accomplishing my task. Mamítu’s
remark came like a shock that forced me to take my destiny
into my own hands. I knew now that I was different from my
father-creator, and so I resolved to stop torturing myself and to
accept myself as I was. For some reason, I felt I could trust the
Amašutum. Thanks to the exceptional good sense that An had
given me, this trust made me sincerely hope that I would no
longer disappoint Mamítu and the priestesses.
Some 14 Danna (28 Earth hours) had passed since we had
begun creating the Nungal. By now the bodies were
completely formed, and we made ready to remove the new
beings from the Siensišár (artificial wombs), but there were
too few of us to attend to them. More Amašutum were hastily
summoned to lend us a hand. When the alarm signaling the
end of the cloning process sounded, the 257 Siensišár were
emptied of their illu (amniotic fluid) and began to open one
after the other.
The newly-created Nungal seemed to be having as much
trouble moving as I’d had when I first emerged from my
womb a few days before. Some could not get their bearings
and were unable to stand up right away. I made a quick tour of
the lab to get assess the situation. Of the 257 Nungal
initialized, 34 had not come to completion. I also counted
about twenty specimens with obvious defects, like
incompletely developed arms or legs. I did not have to worry
about them because, like the Amašutum, the Nungal have the
ability to regenerate their tissues. We only had to amputate
part of the defective limb so that a fully functional limb could
grow in its place. This worked only when the body part in
question was not completely cut off.
The priestesses were all excited at the prospect of
meeting so many brand-new males. They affectionately
distributed the clothes they had made for them. I was not in the
least surprised to see some of the priestesses furtively ogling
their male parts. I gave Nammu instructions to calm them
down. The work was far from finished and required going
through the same procedure a few more times. We did not
have enough Nungal and the thought of the 1,200 Siensišár
(artificial wombs) in my creator’s hands, all lined up and ready
to go, bothered me. I tried communicating with An by means
of Kinsağ (telepathy), but no answer came. The distance
between us may now have been too great for my level of
ability, but the few images that I had been able to intercept
from Mulmul (the Pleiades) had been very sharp. I knew that
my creator had begun work on the Anunna. With all the
wombs at his disposal, he would be able to produce four or
five times as many as we could!
Our 223 Nungal were sent on their way to the center of
Unulahgal, where they were going to be initiated into the
noble work of planning. Mamítu and I took a few hours’ rest
before going on with the work. As we were parting ways, the
planner of Uraš spoke to me in a mannered tone of voice that I
had never heard before:
I don’t know why you insisted on creating the Nungal in
this way, but the results are surprisingly good, she quipped and
gave me a shy smile. You are very lucky, Sa’am, and I pray
that you will always be favored by good fortune.
I thank you for your good wishes and am flattered by
your trust.
I hope it will remain, Nammu added.
I nodded and we parted on the best of terms. Although
Mamítu knew that something important was in the works, she
did not go to seek advice from Tiamata. She trusted me,
almost blindly it seemed. I only hoped that it would not mean
trouble for us all in the long run.
After a well-earned rest, Mamítu and I went on to clone
the next batch of Nungal. We proceeded in exactly the same
fashion as the first time and were able to produce three new
series, creating 742 individuals. This brought the total number
of Alağní cloned from the same model to 965.
 28. Detail of plate 70 in the Borgia Mixtec Codex. The
same type of scene is represented in plate 58 of Codex
Vaticanus B. There is no hard and fast ethnological or
archeological evidence that the Amerindians practiced
cannibalism. Sufficient proof would be the fact that the
thousands of Indians who crowded the jails of the Spanish
conquistadors all died of hunger! The scene depicted here
can only illustrate the extraction of a humanoid immersed in
an artificial womb. In volume 2, there will be more
illustrations that clearly show the artificial wombs of the
ancient “gods.”
 As we were getting started with the fourth series, a
priestess came to see us with an alarming message. Abzu-
Abba, our king, had just paid an unexpected visit to the queen.
The priestess posted at the entrance of the room had heard
everything and considered it her duty to consult with Mamítu.
She said that the message was of the utmost importance.
Seeing that I was standing near the planner, the priestess added
that she could only deliver it to the great Mamítu-Nammu in
person. Mamítu threw me a glance, then ordered her to deliver
the message in my presence.
What I had been afraid of had become reality. Abzu-Abba
was incensed: his two children, Lahmu and Lahamu, had
launched an extermination campaign against the diseased
Šutum. Our king had tried to get in touch with An, but was not
able to establish contact with the Dukù. For two of our days,
communications had been interrupted between our planet and
the colony where An was carrying out his mission. Our king
declared that he had never trusted my creator and his plan. He
ordered Tiamata to intervene. She was to try to contact the
Amašutum and order them to force An to suspend the creation
of the new creatures. According to the priestess who reported
this, Tiamata replied that he had chosen the wrong enemy and
that it was out of the question to stop the creation of the
Nungal and the Anunna. She advised him to calm down,
otherwise she would have to put him under house arrest until
the production of the new beings was completed. Tiamata
added that if An had decided to interrupt communications
between the Dukù and our planet, it was to keep the enemy
from finding his trace. The messenger did not know which
enemy, because, as far as she knew, we had not had any for a
very long time. Mamítu stared at me, looking very worried.
I did my best to reassure her and told her to continue
creating planners without me. I had another job to do for now:
a mission that I was undertaking on my own initiative this
time. I had to see our king and try to reason with him.
 Showdown with Abzu-Abba
“The refuge of the pharaoh is his eye. The pharaoh’s
protection is his eye. The victorious power of the pharaoh is
his eye. The might of the pharaoh is his eye.”
Pyramid Texts, 320, a-b(10)

▼
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Min
I left the creation lab in order to find an Amašutum craft
that would take me back to the Abzu (subterranean world) of
our planet. I had worked without stopping for so long that I
had practically lost all sense of time. When I left the building,
I was surprised to see that the weather had changed for the
worse: Ankida was being battered by a fierce sand storm
coming from out of the north. I made my way through the hot
and treacherous desert wind until I came to the place where all
the Amašutum Gigirlah (sparkling wheels) were parked. I took
the first free one that I found and lifted off to fly to the
underground world. The craft used by our females are hardly
different from the ones that I was familiar with, and so the trip
to the Abzu did not take long. I had made enough trips back
and forth to know what to avoid, such as maneuvering around
the storm and taking advantage of the favorable winds that
came out of the openings in our planet.
Before landing near Šàlam, the capital of the Abzu, I
received a mental message from Lahmu and Lahamu. Both
had been apprised of the situation and seemed to be afraid of
how Abzu-Abba would react. How could they ignore the fact
that their systematic wiping out of the Abzu’s Šutum with the
help of the Mìmínu (Greys) could do anything but please our
king! Lahmu and Lahamu announced that they would stop
eliminating the Šutum and await further instructions from my
creator. Would An the benefactor be able to extricate his
brothers again from the predicament into which they had
gotten themselves? My creator was the lord of chaos, but also
a consummate master in the art of deceit. He spent his time
pretending to solve problems that he himself created out of
thin air. Was there a better way of giving yourself airs of
importance and making yourself seem intelligent and
indispensable in the eyes of others? I was amazed that neither
Lahmu nor Lahamu asked me any questions about the ongoing
production of the Nungal. Obviously, it was none of their
concern. Their interests were basically the same as those of An
and Anšar, and the rest did not matter. In an attempt to flatter
me, Lahmu and Lahamu told me that my creator had enjoined
them to trust and listen to me. Apparently it was up to me to
help these two evil-doers with their problem. In granting me
this “honor,” An was telling me that he considered me as one
of their own; in other words, one of the traitors working for the
sake of his cause and that of Anšar. As for the question that I
had kept asking myself about my creation—namely whether I
was being put to the test or not—I had just received an
unequivocal answer. Lahmu and Lahamu were waiting for my
orders, but I decided not to give them any, explaining that I
first had to pay a visit to our king, and this was the absolute
truth.
Flying low over the forests and open countryside of the
Abzu (subterranean world), I could not overlook the macabre
spectacle of thousands of bodies littering the ground. Clearly,
Lahmu and Lahamu had been very efficient in carrying out my
creator’s orders. Had I been more merciful and endowed with
the humane feelings of our females I would probably have
wept, but I still did not have the emotions that characterized
the planners and the inhabitants of Uraš (Earth).
As with my first arrival at Unulahgal, I chose to land
my Gigirlah on the outskirts of the city so as not to arouse any
suspicion with my presence. From my landing spot, I could
see the tall back end of the temple where our king lived. Šàlam
has no fortifications and so it is very easy to gain access to the
city from the outside. I was in the temple precinct in a matter
of minutes. The entire building is decorated with scores of
frescoes representing humanoid reptilian figures of an archaic
type: our remote ancestors. The scenes illustrated the history
of the female Gina’abul between the Great War that forced
them to leave Urbar’ra (the constellation Lyra) and their
arrival in Margíd’da (Ursa Major), including their work as
creators within the Confederation of Kadištu (planners). The
sculptures retraced the history of the Gina’abul, from the
Ušumgal revolt from the depths of the mines of Turnam and
their flight from the constellation of Ušu (of the Dragon),
through the royal spawning of our queen who produced the
first Archaic Amašutum. Facing Tiamata was a certain Nuréa,
an emblematic figure lost in the mists of time. She supported
her in the test of egg-laying which gave us many combative
females. The large frescoes continued on several walls. Further
on, the engravings evoked the history of our females, from the
Great War which then forced them to leave Urbar’ra (the
constellation of Lyra), until their arrival in Margid’da (the
constellation of the Big Dipper), while detailing their various
creative works within the Confederation of Kadištu. Who was
this Nuréa and what became of her? I contemplated the
gigantic frescoes realizing that I knew nothing more about this
whole story and even less about this Great War which pitted
some of us against a winged enemy, for me, mysterious and
indefinable.
I approached the royal residence, climbed the many
steps to the great bronze door and found it closed. This could
only mean that Abzu-Abba had left the place! I had to find
some way to get inside. This was possible thanks to my
Níama, an innate power that I had inherited from the Ušumgal
by virtue of my creator’s consanguinity. Channeling this
energy after having activated the Šagra (energy vortices,
chakras) can achieve wonders. In the twinkling of an eye, I
had eased the latch open simply with mental power and
slipped into the antichambre to the sanctuary.
It was cool and humid inside. Here and there in the
gloom I could see the glimmer of a dim light. In less than a
hundred steps I had reached the king’s apartments. At the top
of the walls, four narrow apertures showed dust particles
glinting in the sunlight and floating in the air currents. I knew
that Abzu-Abba would be tired after a long, trying day of
plotting against his own offsprings. He was sure to come
back… and I had all the time in the world to wait. I looked up
at the dark vaulted ceiling above me. I decided to ambush my
victim from there, in the manner of the Ušumgal. There was
nothing better than lying in wait and catching a foe off guard
—especially an adept of the same tactic. I leapt with all my
might and took a firm grip on the ceiling. I relaxed with my
head hanging down and waited for our king to return.
My patience was rewarded after about 2 Danna (4
Earth hours), when I heard the great bronze doors being
pushed open, followed by the sound of many footsteps. In my
mind’s eye, I could see that Abzu-Abba was accompanied by
his three favorite buffoons, whose job it was to serve him
without fail. These were Alağní (clones) of the Mìmínu
(Greys), a race of genetic slaves with the heads of Kiši (ants)
and incapable of surviving alone. Two of the Mìmínu
remained behind in the antechamber while Abzu-Abba
repaired to his apartments with their third companion.
I focused my mind in order to keep from giving myself
away and at the same time mentally neutralized the two
flunkies in the antechamber. They instantly fell asleep, but one
of them brushed against a metal candle stand in the process,
making it topple with such a crash that the noise reached the
ears of the king. Abzu-Abba and his dwarf stood directly
below me. Before they could react, I let myself drop and
landed in front of them. At first, they were completely
petrified. Then the horrible dwarf tried to run away, but I
intercepted him and pinned him to the ground. Abzu-Abba
immediately parried by attempting to overpower my mind, an
old technique that is supposed to short-circuit the adversary’s
consciousness by fusing with it one’s own. If this tactic works,
the victor appropriates his rival’s powers and reduces him to a
vegetable—should he survive the assault. But our king was not
quick enough and I had no trouble anticipating his reaction. By
the time he cast his spell, I had already moved out of range on
the opposite wall. From there, I concentrated my energy to pin
him down and try to reason with him:
“Hear me out, you disgraceful Ušum (dragon). I have no
wish to harm you and will spare your life if you listen to me.
- Why should I listen to your lies, Alağní (clone)?
There’s nothing that you can do to me!
- I know all your plans, stubborn Mušdagur (lizard)
[40].
You are about to issue orders to the few Šutum of
yours that are still healthy and make them incite our
female warriors to attack the Dukù. You obviously
don’t know your son An very well. You will be
sending them all to certain death. Abandon your plan
before it’s too late!
- It’s too late already, you ignorant fool. It’s too late
for you and the rest of the traitors who are slandering
the Gina’abul. The Anunna will be destroyed by our
joint forces and you will all be crushed by our allies…
They’ll also be at our side.”
29. Sa’am faces the wrath of Abzu-Abba.
 I loosed my grip from the wall on which I had kept my
position and advanced toward Abzu-Abba:
“Don’t treat me for a Búluğ (novice). You were about to
contact them, but I intervened just in time. Even if that’s
probably what my creator wanted, we want to prevent an
unnecessary bloodbath. I harbor no ill will against our lineage.
But An is willing to go to any lengths to come to power,
including betraying his own kind if he has to. Let him do as he
wishes, let him create his toys, the Anunna. I will be able to
reason with him afterwards. He will listen to me and work for
peace.
- How can you be so naive! An listens to no one and
will turn a deaf ear to whatever you tell him. We have
to send our troops to destroy the Dukù without
delay! »
My voice dropped an octave, taking a serious tone: “I’m
sorry, but that’s impossible. An already has almost 1,200
Siensišár, so you can imagine how many creatures he must
have produced by now. It’s much too dangerous! We are
producing as many Nungal as we can. They will be able to
defend the Gina’abul if worse comes to worse. You should be
glad, you old fool! Nammu and I were able to create the
Nungal because of your own work, thanks to a prototype of
your own making before you shifted to producing the Šutum.
It’s a very successful model, I have to admit…”.
The voice of the dwarf behind me sounded in our
heads and railed against me: “Don’t listen to him, my Barag
(king), he’s a traitor just like his maker!” I turned around,
making a gesture that sent him sliding out of the room on his
back and then locked him up in the hallway between the king’s
apartments and the antechamber: “What are you talking about,
you brainless upstart? What lies are you trying to make me
swallow! What shall I do with Nungal who are as stupid as
you? This is nothing but a scheme to replace my Šutum with
your accursed Alağní (clones) and usurp the monarchy of
Nalulkára and our colonies!”
 Abzu-Abba was furious. He refused to hear what I had to
say. He was beside himself with rage and managed to move in
spite of my mental grip on him. Although his legs were stiff
with fatigue, he struggled to his feet, cursing me. Was it rage
or the instinct for survival that gave him the courage and the
strength to resist me? He lunged at me with his huge body, but
I dodged the attack and managed to pin him on the ground
again with my Níama (vital force):
“What are you trying to do, you fool? Don’t force me to
destroy you, I pleaded.
- You won’t have a choice, I’ll never be the ally that
you want me to be. You’re nothing but a genetic
machine, you miserable snot-nose. You’re alone and
always will be, that’s the fate of the Alağní (clones).
I’m going to annihilate you, your maker, and all those
who worked for Nuréa! I have you at my mercy now.
- - Nuréa? What do you mean?
- Don’t you know who this creature is and where it
hides the Primordial Matrix that your creator is so
looking for?”
I did not understand anything about his last words, our
king laughed out loud: “I pity you poor unbeliever. The raging
sea of despair must befall you. However, by the grace of
providence, you will die totally ignorant of the trap that will
close on you all!”
Abzu-Abba kept up his barrage of insults. I was alarmed
by the all-out violence of his words. It was becoming obvious
that only one of us would come out of this confrontation alive.
He insisted on doing things his way and heaped insults on An
as well. His panting voice and vehemence inspired a deep
animosity in me. The more he ranted and raved, the more he
seemed to relish my powerlessness in the face of this absurd
situation.
His perversity made him attack me with such verbal
violence that I could no longer think straight. My head started
to drop and my knees buckled in spite of myself. My brain,
filled with sounds and frequencies, tottered on the threshold of
feeling, and I could no longer heard his words distinctly. I
managed to raise my head and see Abzu-Abbu shake himself
free of my grip again. While rage was welling up inside me as
well, he managed to pull himself up with an air of wry
amusement.
He kept staring at me with bloodshot eyes, intoxicated by
the fact of having me at his mercy. My heart was pounding
hard and fast, I no longer had myself under control. All my
limbs felt completely paralyzed and ached terribly. How had I
become so vulnerable so fast? Abzu-Abba gloated, slathering,
and darted out his forked tongue. He was clearly enjoying my
rage and feeding on the low-level energy that I was sending
off. Abzu-Abba had no trouble manipulating me now, for he
knew where the weak spot of an Alağní (clone) lay… namely
in his creator! That was it! That was the key and the method
with which my rival kept me in his mental grasp.
I struggled with all my strength to get a hold of myself.
Abzu-Abba was making gleeful gestures of triumph while
spitting out his dark litany of insults. He was too sure of
himself and wanted to savor his victory before giving me the
coup-de-grace. That was his mistake. I had to stop thinking
about my creator and to rid myself of this useless and
destructive hatred. Closing my eyes, I concentrated to free
myself from his invisible stranglehold. I slowly straightened
and, with all the energy I could muster, hurtled Abzu-Abba
against the wall. Seeing me suddenly free of his grasp, my
foe’s gloating turned to panic. The depth of his despair made
him bellow like an animal being led to the slaughterhouse. He
knew he was finished when he felt me sucking out his own
Níama (vital force).
His Šagra became sluggish, spinning more and more
haphazardly, hopelessly out of sync. His muscles taut, his
chest about to burst, agonizing, Abzu-Abba was drained of his
power like water being squeezed out of a sponge. Seconds
later, the body of our king slumped before my eyes. I walked
up to him and noticed that he was still alive. I became
euphoric and exalted in my invincibility: « Miserable fool! I
was at your mercy, but you preferred to relish your triumph
instead of finishing me off when you had the chance. You
always were a bit slow on the draw. Don’t think that I’m going
to make the same mistake!”
After having said this, and without a further thought, I let
out an Ugmu, a cry charged with extreme energy and power.
Death came instantly, and then the bodies of Abzu-Abba and
his three Mìmínu exploded, splattering the temple walls with
blood and bits of flesh.
What had I done? The grim and sinister genetic machine,
the loathsome half-programmed clone that I was had just done
the irreparable! Abzu-Abba’s Níama[41] had merged with
mine, endowing me with all the power of my Kuku (ancestor).
I left this macabre place to return to Ankida and Mamítu,
my mind filled with incoherent thoughts. On the way back to
my craft, I could feel an indescribable horror descend on the
temple and its surroundings. The Abzu (subterranean world)
coalesced into a deathly silence. No one could now celebrate
the daily divine services. No subordinate could ensure the
secular continuity of the underground kingdom.
 Mamítu and Sa’am
“You have opened my heart to your knowledge, and you
open my ears… relying on your kindness. But my heart
moans… and my heart melts like wax because of the Original
Sin.”
Qumran Manuscripts, Psalms of Deeds and Grace (Scroll
of the Hymns)
Col. 22, frag. 4(11)

≈
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Eš
Back on the surface of our planet, the scorching desert
wind’s crashed heavily on the towers of Ankida, forcing me to
put my Gigirlah down on the edge of the creation room. The
many traces of blood strewn on my suit forced me to change
myself in my ship. I couldn’t appear in front of Nammu and
her priestesses like a murderer. At the top of the building, the
familiar droning sound of the Siensišár (artificial wombs) tore
me away from my waking nightmare. Seeing the many busy
priestesses hurrying about, I realized that the news about our
secret mission must have spread throughout the planet.
Inspecting the premises, I saw Mamítu talking with a group of
priestesses at the far end of the lab. As I approached her, I
noticed that Mamítu-Nammu was now wearing the ceremonial
dress of an “Amašutum Saint prepared to select a partner for
her bed”.
Mamítu’s slender body was wrapped in a tight-fitting
white sheath that was slit up to the knees and that left her arms
and shoulders bare. A conical headdress, embellished with a
long veil, enhanced her sovereign head. The top of her dress,
with its plunging neckline, bared her shoulders and arms. On
her neck, a pectoral in Kùsig (gold) adorned with emeralds, on
her wrists, thin bracelets decorated in an identical way, and on
her feet, golden sandals studded with the same stone. Seeing
me arrive, the other priestesses dispersed without comment
and left me alone with the planner, who greeted me with a
broad smile.
Although I was in despair, I kept my horrible deed to
myself for a while longer and complimented her on the
pleasant prospects. I was sincerely happy for her. Mamítu
smiled gaily and tried to say something, but she was so
overcome with emotion herself that she could hardly utter a
sound. Her unusual behavior surprised and puzzled me until I
realized with a shudder that the confession of her passion was
intended not for some Nungal or dignitary, but for me. How
could I be so stupid! The feverish desire that coursed in her
veins was obvious even to me. But what was this all about?
The strange and delicious sensation that I could sense in the
depths of her being was consuming her from within like a
disease.
 30. Nammu receives Sa’am at the top of the creation
room.
 My own silence spoke loud and clear. Mamítu-Nammu
guessed my thoughts and felt both embarrassed and vexed.
Since we are olive-colored, our skin does not change color
when we get embarrassed. But if Mamítu had had lighter skin
at the time, one could have said that she was blushing in
shame and confusion. Lifting her head and taking on a
dignified expression, she regained her composure and finally
spoke:
“Well, Sa’am, do you have any objections to the
excellence of my decision?
- No, of course not. It’s just quite unexpected and… a
bit out of place, that’s all.”
I turned heels and left without bothering to explain.
That was an affront, of course, but I had more serious
problems to deal with. Nevertheless, I would ultimately have
to accept her favors, because our laws forbid us to refuse them.
Under these particular circumstances, she could easily
have reduced me to her obedient slave and obliged me to
satisfy her desires. Had I been able to, this is probably what I
would have done. I would have thrown myself at her feet and
adored her as a male beholden to the female who has chosen
him. This would have put me under her divine protection in
the bargain and, with a little bit of luck and the help of her
divine prestige, I would have been acquitted or my punishment
would have been lightened. I would then have become
Mamítu’s toy of pleasure. I would have given her my body and
shared her bed, and I would have done my best to gratify her
innermost desires. What else could a priestess expect of a
male, if not to fulfill her most intimate whims?
For now, I was terribly tired and had no illusions about
the fate that awaited me. I found a quiet corner to be alone in
the laboratory and tried to bring some order into my thoughts.
I had to reach a decision as soon as possible. Should I go to
Tiamata and tell her everything from the start, thus taking the
risk of betraying my creator, or should I let An carry out his
hideous plan? It was a terrible dilemma; both options were too
monstrous to be considered as solutions. I felt trapped. All I
could do, it seemed, was to wait for my inevitable and
irreversible downfall.
After a while, I heard footsteps approaching from behind,
or more exactly the sound of sandals clapping on the floor. It
was her. I expected the worst. Considering the faux-pas that I
had just committed, Mamítu had every right to insist on
amends. I was prepared to face the anger of the outraged
priestess. She came up to me and, contrary to my expectations,
delicately put her hand on my arm: “I am very sorry, Sa’am. I
come from very far away, you know, and the distance makes
me realize how unjust these practices are, as if from remote
times. I hope they will be changed soon, but unfortunately that
is still impossible. I don’t want to force you to cater to my
wishes and I will grant you your freedom if that is what you
really want.”
Sweet and tender Mamítu! She was indeed different from
all the others. Was it her long isolation on Uraš (Earth) that
had made her be like this? A priestess would never have let the
male of her choice simply get off the hook scot-free. She was
not only irresistible and exquisite, but she had a good heart:
“You owe me no apologies, noble Nindiğir (priestess). I would
accept your offer immediately if I could, for I would have to be
a fool to turn it down. You are the most gentle Nindiğir that I
and my creator have ever met. But I cannot agree to your
request for reasons that I am unable to disclose. Know,
however, that I kiss your name and that I am greatly honored
by your choice.”.
Upon hearing these words, Mamítu regained some of her
imperiousness. Her eyes sparkling between eyelids powdered
with Kùsig (gold), and with a slight smile at the corner of lips
nearly bare of make-up, she draped her arms languorously
around my waist and began to whisper: “You are being very
mysterious, Sa’am… and yet I feel only half reassured. It is not
my name that I want you to kiss, you owe me that much…”
I was overwhelmed by so much obstinacy and grace. So
be it! Why not do her the favor of a kiss, if that’s what she
wanted? In those days, the Gina’abul kissed in the same way
as on Uraš (Earth) and in other parts of the universe. When a
priestess ordered us to kiss her, it was not on the mouth but on
the feet. This was probably another way to mark our
submission to the female sex.
I lowered myself respectfully along the sheath dress that
framed her thighs and then bent down to her small, delicate
feet. They, too, sparkled and exuded a light exotic fragrance
that I had never smelled. But before I could go through with it,
Mamítu briskly kneeled down to my level. Our faces were
very close, closer than they ever had been. Her bare shoulders
shone in the light and gave off the same subtle and
intoxicating fragrance. I was completely captivated by her
beauty, and she knew it. The priestess took advantage of this to
focus her deep and dazzling eyes on mine. Some of our race
have reddish eyes, like me, but hers had a copper luster, with
accents of green and yellow. That did not seem to be
exceptional, since I had already noticed that some of our
Nindiğir (priestesses) had shimmering green eyes. The air
became strangely stifling. It felt almost too warm.
“No, not like that. Some Kadištu (planners) do it this
way…”
Mamítu gently placed her lips on mine and slid her
tongue into my mouth. This unrefined procedure caught me
completely unawares and made me wonder if I had to hold my
breath. Unfamiliar sensations began to course through my
body, as if thousands of ants were swimming in my veins.
When she finally released me from this strange custom,
slightly dazed, I noticed a metallic taste in my mouth that
made me think of kùsig (gold), but with an ineffably sweet
savor. My lips felt sticky. I had no idea what to say.
“My word, do you have perfume in your mouth?”
Mamítu burst out in a passionate laughter that almost
grated on me: “Not inside my mouth, young Búluğ (novice),
but on my lips. They are impregnated with the subtle fragrance
of a flower from Uraš (Earth) blended with powdered kùsig
(gold)”. I discreetly glanced at her satin lips and saw that they
were indeed coated with fine gold powder. Nammu looked
into my eyes and adopted a serious tone of voice, stroking my
face all the while :
 “My charming Am (lord), I could teach you many things if
you consented to share my noble bed.
- Must one really sleep with you in order to become
your friend, venerable Mí (female)?”
She lowered her eyes and stood up, embarrassed: “Am I
to understand that I am not to your liking? That’s not what you
seemed to be saying before. I really don’t understand you. You
are so incoherent and stupid! Nonetheless, I have given you
my word, you are free…”. Poor thing, how could she
understand? To her way of seeing things, it was impossible for
a male not to have a Ğèš (penis). She still knew nothing about
the anatomy of the Anunna, of which I was supposed to be the
first specimen. Why would a male be without a sexual organ?
Like Tiamata, the planner of Uraš was a fervent advocate of
the reinstatement of childbearing among the Amašutum.
Seeing Mamítu getting ready to leave, I stood up and grabbed
her roughly by the arm. She stared at my hand: “How dare
you! Haven’t you done enough harm already?”.
The planner lifted her head and looked at me searchingly.
While she was staring at me, she saw the vulnerable
expression that she liked so much and immediately calmed
down: “Poor little lost child, you are probably not well. I wish
only one thing, and that is to be able to help you, if I can.
Confide in me, my son, you who have not stopped telling lies
since our first encounter, you who spends your time concealing
a dire secret. Will you please be sincere just for once and
forget your creator?”. An amazing priestess, remarkably
clairvoyant and with an answer for everything, even though
she did not possess the Níama (vital force). Her feelings
towards me were really sincere. Priestesses often use the
expression “my son” when referring to male Gina’abul. Every
time that Tiamata or a priestess addressed me like this, reality
caught up with me and I remembered that we were all
considered the sons of the priestesses[42] : “Do you really want
to help me, noble Kadištu (planner), and are you prepared to
do so? The truth sometimes hurts, I added.”. Mamítu flashed
her radiant smile again: “I have never been afraid of
frankness, I am prepared for everything. Yes, I want to help
you. I want to and I demand it!”. Was this finally a way out of
my torment, or at least in part? How could I refuse such an
offer? Would she be able to bear the shock of my revelations
or would she push me away, full of fear and loathing? The
time for questions was over.
I was no longer worthy of the name given to me by An.
Now it was time to do justice to myself. Not without some
hesitation, I decided to reveal everything to Mamítu
telepathically. I told her not to worry and to trust me when I
performed a certain gesture. I placed my right hand on her
forehead to open her sixth Šagra, the seat of her higher
faculties. Then, in a flash, I made my revelation by projecting
into her mind everything that I had seen from the time of my
creation until that very moment.
In this way I unburdened myself of my shameful story,
without holding back a single detail. I had only been in
existence for a few days, but I already had many secrets to
hide. It was all there: the horror of An’s machinations, his
unspeakably machiavellian plan, his folly and perversion, my
lies to cover it up, my lack of a Ğèš (penis), the true nature of
the Anunna, the death of Abzu-Abba… altogether, a living
nightmare!
When I re-opened my eyes, I saw that Nammu was
horror-struck and greatly distressed. I could feel her fingers
digging into my arm. When I finally let go of her, she was
shaking and close to breaking down. She almost fainted, but I
had the presence of mind to hold her tightly with my
fingertips.
Then I lifted her in my arms and carried her gently past
the other priestesses, who were completely dumbfounded.
They were anxious as well. I saw many of them exchange
remarks about the cause of her fainting and about the reasons
for my presence among them: I was an object of curiosity and
rumors. I did what I could to reassure them and told them that
I was carrying Mamítu-Nammu to her apartment. At that very
instant, the alarm signaling the opening of the next batch of
clones sounded. I asked the priestesses to greet the new
creatures and then stop production until further notice.
◆◆◆
 Fortunately, the sandstorm had abated. I found the
planner’s lodgings on the far side of the central square, in a
narrow side street in which the light of day hardly penetrated.
When I reached her door, I suddenly heard a strange music.
The sounds were metallic but harmonious, and mixed with
distant voices chanting ceremonial melodies of great beauty.
Inside, the apartment was bathed in a low, even light, the floor
dotted with crystals. Such a pleasant place would surely offer
the comforts that a priestess needed.
I lay her down in the middle of her bed, amid a pile of
cushions made of shimmering fabrics. Mamítu was still
unconscious, but the serene expression on her face reassured
me a little. I gazed at her for a few moments, telling myself
that she was truly a great beauty and had a disquieting charm. I
saw her lying there, so exposed, and let my eyes wander over
her body until I came to one of her hands, which was slightly
palmed. Then I noticed that she wore the mark of the
inhabitants of the Gagsisá system (Sirius). I had had no idea
until then that Mamítu came from this wonderful place or that
she was associated with it in any way. For the female
Gina’abul and their allies, the Kadištu, Gagsisá is one of the
most important bases of the Confederation of Planners. This
discovery troubled me somewhat. It so happened that my
hands had the same peculiarity, but not as conspicuously, as if
my creator had tried to erase the mark of Gagsisá (Sirius). Did
I have some particular connection with that star? That would
have been completely impossible for the simple reason that An
himself did not have any.
I sat next to her on the bed, the one she had so
passionately hoped I would share with her, until I realized that
sitting like this was just as sensual as lying next to her. The
thought made me jump to my feet. Now I was curious to see
what the apartment of a priestess was like. I browsed through
the premises, noticing all kinds of objects that were so bizarre
and exotic that they must surely have come from the Ti-ama-te
system (Solar System), and more specifically from the planet
Uraš (Earth). Considering Mamítu’s official mission, I could
hardly be mistaken, and yet some of the objects clearly made
me think of past impressions and places. How could that be?
As far as I knew, An had never set foot in that distant solar
system. Was that another of the many manipulations that he
had concocted in his genetic laboratory? If my creator had
already been on Uraš (Earth), why had he kept this fact hidden
from me? No, the real question was: what else did he have to
hide? Although I thought that I had dropped this silly game of
hide-and-seek, fate would surely have much to teach me about
my creator, and therefore about myself: “That’s an ilikû (a sort
of spoon from Uraš)”.
I put the object back down and saw Mamítu sitting
majestically on her bed, head held high, her back straight, with
legs and feet tucked under finely embroidered cushions. The
expression on her face was neutral. I could have anticipated
and read her thoughts with my Níama (vital force), but
refrained from doing so. Tapping the bed lightly with her
hand, she invited me to sit down next to her. I accepted and did
so, expecting all sorts of reproaches. I took the initiative of
speaking first.
“Holy Nindiğir (priestess), I will go to our Ereš (queen)
without further delay and give myself up to save the honor of
the Gina’abul and the Amašutum.
- Young Alağní (clone), you will do nothing of the
sort! It is I who will go to Tiamata and defend your
cause, for it is up to the Nindiğir to plead for the honor
and life of her Nitahlam (lover).”
I was thunderstruck and suddenly felt dizzy. How could
she still desire me as a Nitahlam (lover) after everything I had
shown her? This priestess had to be either mad or generous, or
both!
“I am greatly surprised by your choice. I have no need of
your august charity and can take care of myself. I do not
deserve the honor of being your Nitahlam (lover). And what
could I give you in return?
- By the Original Source! Your attitude is most
insolent and offends me deeply, Sa’am! Stop feeling
sorry for yourself. No Alağní (clone) is expected to
 serve a monster, even if your creator happens to be
one. You are quick, intelligent and also terribly
stubborn; that’s the only thing you have in common
with An, and it is your biggest fault! I have seen
unusual qualities in you that make me think that you
are not the exact replica of An. Unlike your creator,
you are obviously capable of feeling mercy and have
good dispositions. I will help you to know yourself
better if you trust me and if you honor me in
accordance with our laws, which oblige the male to
honor his Šan[43].”
I was unfamiliar with this word. It obviously belonged to
the priestesses’ “womb dialect.” I thought it must mean
something like “she who pleases the heavens” or “she of the
heavens who makes one good.” I was stumped and had to grin.
Exasperated, Mamítu, immediately countered:
« Úgunu (mistress), the word means Úgunu!
- But I am incapable of honoring you, noble Mamítu!
And you seem to be forgetting your promise to set me
free. How…
- That’s enough! I’ve heard enough! Yes, you will
honor me and if you don’t know how, then I will have
to show you how to go about it. Your reaction is
uncouth and degrading! You males seem to think that
the Nindiğir (priestesses) are all depraved beings, only
greedy for sex. I thought you were much more subtle
than that, Sa’am. I see that I will have to teach you
quite a lot… You also seem to forget that I am a
Kadištu (planner) and that I take my task very
seriously. As for the promise that I made to you a
while ago, I have not forgotten it, but that was also
before you told me this tragic story. Thanks to the
images that you transmitted, I was able to see what
you were capable of. You have nothing to blame
yourself for. Abzu-Abba would have crushed you if
you had not done him in first. Yet you are a real danger
to our people and I cannot let you go scot-free. Until
now I was under your orders, as per Tiamata and your
 creator’s wishes, but the situation has changed, since I
have chosen you as my Nitahlam (lover). You no
longer have a say in the matter. From now on, you will
have to listen to me, for you are my responsibility, and
soon we will be as one. That’s something that your
loathsome creator did not anticipate. He will have to
get used to it, and so will you! »
Mamítu calmed down and looked at me with her large
luminous eyes. She knelt gracefully on the bed and took one of
my hands. Her expression gradually softened: “I have nothing
against you, Sa’am. As I said, I want nothing more than to
help you, because I liked you before finding out about these
horrible things. Know that my feelings for you have not
changed. I sense a strange and deep connection with you. Not
only that, but you have shown that you trust me, and I
appreciate that immensely. You were looking for a helping
hand—here it is. We will work together for the peace of our
people. What would you prefer, a life enhanced by a charming
and influent Šan (mistress) or the Zirzi (destroyers of life)?”. I
did not answer. I was trapped. With just a few sentences,
Mamítu had masterfully commanded my respect and
obedience. Yet for all her beautiful words, what I had just
witnessed was no more, no less, than a powerful priestess
trumping a male. All the same, I felt that she was going about
things in this way against her will, and that made the situation
that much more disconcerting. “Good! Now I am going
directly to have a talk with Tiamata and explain her the whole
story, she went on. I will take the opportunity to insist on your
rights, for you should know that you are now the Lugal
(master) of the Abzu and own much property here and beyond
our solar system. I will continue wearing my Túg-lamahuš
(state costume) for three Ud (days), as tradition requires. At
the end of the three Ud, I will summon you to my bed and you
will honor the Nindiğir (priestess) that I am because I have
chosen you.”. The priestess of Uraš flashed me a broad smile,
the first since the beginning of our conversation. She cast a
glance at her feet, which now peeked out of the cushions, and
invited me to kiss them: “This time you are allowed to kiss
them in the traditional manner.”. I granted her wish and
rapidly departed without saying a word. Nammu walked me
back to the front door:
“On behalf of my ancestors the Ama’argi and the ancient
Záharhuš[44], she said, I swear I want to support your cause
with our queen.
- Why swear on the Záharhuš? Not all members of this
cloning family seem trustworthy if memory serves me
correctly.
- The Záharhuš were not a genetic line, but a spiritual
family of which I was a part. It is true that some
diverted their power of creation for the sole benefit of
their narcissistic advantage, mainly males …
- What exactly did they do?
- Some conceived females for the sole purpose of
exploiting their motor and intellectual capacities. They
also cloned with each other in order to cover their
tracks.
- Why?
- They made many genetic experiments on multiple
living beings, but also on planners like the Urmah
felids, keepers of order in our Universe. All of this is
now far behind us. Now, no male has the right to clone
without going through the approval of the authority
Amašutum and our sovereign Tiamata.
- This is why the Amašutum have absolute power over
us all!” I concluded wryly.
 31. Nammu and Sa’am discuss the Záharhuš cloning
family.
 I was completely revolted by the fact of having lost my
freedom in this way and took Mamítu’s sentence as a betrayal.
I had just proved to be unworthy of my creator’s trust and felt
as if I’d lost the only friend I had. Yes, the planner had saved
me from the Zirzi (destroyers of life), but at what price!
Before, I had been An’s disciplined slave, now another being
was going to have a say over my life. If I had not had this
anatomical anomaly, I would have respected Mamítu’s choice,
for I would have been sure of being able to honor it. But I had
nothing to give her, and this thought tormented me. Devoured
by a strange feeling of indignation mixed with fear, I returned
to the large hangar that had been converted into a creation
laboratory. The priestesses notified me that, in my absence,
they had produced 703 specimens, bringing the total of Nungal
at our disposal to 1,668. That was good, but still not enough.
 THE MISTRESS AND HER
PUPIL
“I am my mother’s limbs. I am the barren, and many are
my sons.
I am the beautifully married and single.
I am the midwife and the one who did not procreate…
I am the substance and one that has no substance.
Those who are not associated with me are ignorant of me,
and those who are in my substance are those who know me
(12) “.
NH VI, 2 - Le Tonnerre, perfect intellect (excerpts)

Ж
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-
Limmu
“I have nothing to give her!” This phrase kept haunting
me until a frightful possibility occurred to me. The planner of
Uraš had nonchalantly mentioned that I was now the lord of
the Abzu and that, as such, I was the owner of much land. She
was right: having eliminated Abzu-Abba, I had unwittingly
become his successor and therefore heir to all the Abzu of our
colonized planets. I knew this, but had not bothered to think
about it any further. She, on the other hand, had not lost sight
of this fact. Was she interested in my business affairs out of
love or simply out of self-interest? In becoming my Úgunu
(mistress), Mamítu-Nammu would inherit all of my property
and was entitled to use it as much as I was. I had no way of
being sure about the matter, so I resolved to use my Níama to
scan her thoughts the next time I saw her.
My deplorable situation forced me to work overtime to
make me forget my troubles. Time flew. After three days, we
had produced another 1,418 Nungal. I had had no news of
Mamítu and made no attempt to find out the upshot of her talk
with our queen. I was prepared to meet my fate and accept
whatever sentence Tiamata deemed appropriate.
At the end of the day, as the shadows progressively
stretched over Ankida, a priestess came to me and invited me
to join the great Mamítu-Nammu at her apartment. The
moment that I had apprehended for so long had finally come.
I went outdoors at dusk and looked up at the sky. The
stars had just begun to shine, but I could already make out the
glow of dawn on the far horizon. Looking into the vastness of
space, I concentrated on Ubšu’ukkinna, the fifth brightest star
in the constellation of Mulmul (the Pleiades). I had made no
further effort to get in touch with my creator in the last few
days, but considering the turn that events had taken, I saw no
reason to feel any remorse about this.
Before entering the planner’s apartment, I made sure to
keep my Šagra (chakras) tightly sealed from outside
influences. Whatever was going to happen at Mamítu’s would
have to remain absolutely secret. But what could happen, for
that matter?
As I crossed the threshold into the planner’s apartment, I
remember desperately wishing to be thrown into prison rather
than to have to face the impossible. In the entrance hall I was
greeted by the delicate scent of incense wafting from a vessel
on the floor. This immediately told me that incarceration or the
Zirzi (destroyers of life) would not be on the order of the day.
Mamítu was waiting for me, standing as proudly as an
empress. She smiled and invited me to enter. I made my bow
and walked towards her, immediately implementing my plan:
to surreptitiously scan her thoughts and find out her real
intentions. The result sent a shiver up my spine. Once again, I
was forced to accept the fact that Mamítu did not harbor the
least malice against me. She was in love with me, nothing
more, nothing less. Her Šagra had a sky-blue color and spun
gently in perfect synchronization. She was filled with selfless
kindness, a feeling that I had never experienced myself and
that she hoped to be able to share with me. The planner was
being consumed by the same inner fire that I had sensed in the
creation lab.
 « Come, my son, you who are the Barag (king) of our
Nungal. It is time for you to begin your apprenticeship and
experience the essence of planning.
- What happened when… »
Seeing me hesitate to move closer, Mamítu strode over to
me and put her delicate hand on my mouth: “Silence! Don’t
worry about Tiamata, we will talk about that later, everything
is fine…”. She stroked my face, took one of my hands and
motioned for me to brush her eyelids with it. They were still
finely sprinkled with kùsig (gold) dust. Mamítu had not
changed a bit since our last meeting: she still wore the garb of
a priestess in love, and the same bewitching salve shone on her
shoulders and feet. Only her perfume was different. I seemed
to detect the fragrant scent of water-lilies.
Mamítu pulled me over to her and embraced me. She was
slightly smaller than me and had to stand on her tiptoes.
Seeing my awkwardness and lack of initiative, she gently
guided my hands and fingers into an exploration of the forms
of her body. In the overheated air of her apartment, she led my
hands to the spot on her back where she wanted me to
unbutton her dress. I was nervous and had to fiddle with the
buttons, but once the dress was open, it still fit so tightly that it
would not slide off her body. Without taking her captivating
eyes off of me, she made a nimble gesture and pulled it down
until her breasts were exposed. I performed the rest of this
delicate operation. Her dress was so tight-fitting that I could
not help but brush her skin with mine. My fingers shone in the
light and felt somewhat sticky, making me realize that her
entire body was covered with the same salve. Subtle though it
was, this heavenly cosmetic did not go unnoticed. When I had
reached the knees, the dress dropped into a heap at her feet.
I stood up again, Nammu pressed her unclad body against
my spacesuit and her cheek to mine. Then she indulged again
in that strange practice with the mouth peculiar to the planners.
Pressed by a sudden rush of desire, she darted her tongue into
my mouth and circled it five times, making our saliva mingle.
For a brief moment I thought that I could hear her heartbeat,
but then realized that it was my own blood pulsing at my
temples.
With a sensual gesture, Mamítu opened the fastenings of
my spacesuit, peeled it off and sent it hurtling across the room.
I had hardly enough time to take my shoes off before she
pulled me onto the bed and made me topple backwards on the
cushions. Her delicate lips brushed my skin like a feather,
taking in the nakedness of my flesh. I was completely at her
mercy, yet the planner had the decency to avoid examining my
pelvic region. She gently placed her hand there and gazed
directly into my eyes. Then she approached my face with hers
and whispered into my ear: “You may be sexless for now, but I
will make a Nungal out of you, the greatest of them all!”. After
having said these troubling words, Mamítu took my hands in
hers again and showed me the places where the main Šagra
were located, one after the other. Sexual organ or not, she
wanted her lover to have expert and sensual hands to further
the exchange of energy. After several tries that made her smile,
I studiously performed the gestures that she had demonstrated.
“You will not be able to practice Téškug (sacred sexuality)
until you awaken what the Ušumgal call Kundaliní[45]. Surely
you already know about it. I suppose that you are accustomed
to arousing it when you meditate.
- Yes, I know about Kundaliní. It is the principle that
governs the dormant energy in each of us. This energy
is the supreme and infinite consciousness. Without it, I
would not be able to use the Níama (vital force). As
long as the Kundalini remains inactive, the being is no
better than an animal and cannot access true
understanding.
- Bravo, my child! As you know, Kundaliní is coiled
like a Muš (serpent) at the level of the first of the
seven main Šagra, called Muladhara[46]. What you
probably don’t know is that Kundalini is a feminine
principle, the mother-energy, the matrix of all things.
This is the real reason why we are called the Uğa-Muš
(People of the Serpent). Each one of us possesses the
knowledge of how to awaken the Kundalini. We
 practice both the mystic path, which you already know
in part, and the tangible path, which requires the
participation of both sexes. The Kundalini that
energizes our Šagra has an effect on the vibrations and
energy that influence the chemical composition of our
glandular secretions. This energy then merges with the
fluids that flow to our genital orifice. As you see,
Kundalini can also give us a power that is related to
the Níama (vital force), only we do not use this energy
in the same way as the Ušumgal. We, as Amašutum,
prefer to pronounce it Kundalimi, do you know why?
By decomposing Kundalimi into KUN-DA-LIMI, I
interpreted the meaning as “the powerful ladder one
thousand.” I had no idea what the number 1,000 had to do with
all of this. And then I remembered that this number
symbolized Eternity:
“Kundalimi means “the powerful ladder of eternity
- Very good, but you should also know that, for us,
this number symbolizes Taltal (wisdom). Kundalimi is
the powerful ladder of Taltal.”
 32. A priestess of the “Dark Star” initiating a man into
the knowledge of the sacred tree. The idea of Dark Star is
expressed twice in the figure: once above, where we see a
star with a dark side, and then again in each of the priestess’
hands, where we see a star and a jaguar (symbol of Night).
Notice the lunar symbols on the priestess: they are
associated with the menstrual fluid sacred to the Tantric
rituals of India. In between the figures are two serpents that
stand for Ida and Pingala, the two subtle channels of
Kundalini that allow the energy to ascend in the spine. As
we see in the drawing, the ascension of these subtle currents
permits the world of the stars to be reached, while the
movement in the opposite direction (descending) leads to the
“petite mort” (lit. “little death,” Fr. for sexual climax)
represented by the skull in the jar or cup that symbolizes the
first chakra (see also note 84).
 And so Mamítu and I began a long series of meditative
exercises. I had to unlearn everything. My own meditations
never required the entire sequence of the seven Šagra. In fact, I
was in the habit of making the energy rise in my spine only to
optimize the Níama. Thanks to this innate automatism, this
reflex engraved in my genes, I was able to activate my Šagra
at a moment’s notice. That was the key to the power of the
Ušumgal, as well as to their weak spot, for it was an
exhausting procedure.
The meditative process that Mamítu was teaching me
made me realize that our females did not live under the same
space-time conditions that we males did, for we were usually
in the habit of doing things in haste. The fact of having to take
my time gave me a completely new experience of it. After a
series of elaborate preliminaries, I was suddenly overwhelmed
by a flood of images and sensations. I saw flashes of light and
visions emerging from all sides. It was amazing and
indescribable. In one of my lucid moments, I saw Mamítu’s
supple body synchronize with mine and deduced from this, not
without effort, that the planning work had become operational.
I had thought that this exercise could be done only through
sexual contact, but the unbelievable happened just the same:
the transfer of energy and information functioned perfectly.
How could that be?[47]
At the end of our strange exercises, Mamítu took me in
her arms again. Still under the impact of the images I had seen,
some of which had been transmitted by Mamítu herself, and
dazzled by so much grace and tenderness, I could no longer
have any doubts about her.
“O gentle, desired Nindiğir (priestess), I beg you to accept
my humble apologies, for I have too often doubted you. Your
kindness is incomparable, and I am nothing but a wretched
Alağní (clone). Allow me to put myself at your service and
that of the Amašutum, whatever it may cost me.
- Noble Am (lord), I expected nothing less of you, but
for heaven’s sake, stop underestimating yourself. You
are a wise and sensitive being, but you are also still a
copy of your creator, however pale. Rest assured, I
 have no wish to turn you into my slave, but only my
Nitahlam (lover) and divine assistant. The Amašutum
will see that a male can be as sensitive as a Nindiğir
(priestess). You are the august one that I have always
seen in my dreams. An old dream that has never left
me, as though concealed under the countless number
of Muanna (years) that separate us from our origins.
You are the only one who have the power to rebalance
a deadly past generated by the son of unreason[48].
You, your ancestors and I all form the essence and the
material of his fatal limitless creation that must be
restored. I inherited this chaos and part of its origin.
You own the other part, which is why you have to trust
me. I don’t know the way you will go about it yet.
Although I still don’t know why, the Amašutum will
be eternally grateful to you.”
Nammu lowered her eyes for a moment and suddenly
turned melancholic. An odd sparkle flashed in her eyes. What
did she mean? Did she have supernatural vision? Who was this
son of unreason, was it Ía’aldabaut, the son of Barbélú? She
looked directly into my eyes again: “You are very talented,
Sa’am, but An programmed you in such a way that you are not
aware of it. He made sure to create an Anunna that would be
the willing instrument of his unmentionable designs. Everyone
knows that incomplete beings are much better servants for
their makers!”. Mamítu kneeled on the bed with a
disconcerting grace and elegance, then gently rested her head
against my chest. The planner’s gesture almost had something
maternal about it; at least that’s the way I would describe it
now:
“I know of your doubts, my son. I will protect you from
your father’s evildoing. Now that you trust me, we will be able
to work together and make the right choices for peace.
- How could I be an instrument for peace when I am
the one who murdered our Barag (king)?
- Tiamata never had any illusions about her husband’s
weaknesses. She is sad about his disappearance and
regrets very much not having listened to him, for he
 was right this time. But we knew that he was
thoroughly unbalanced and unstable. Our Ereš (queen)
knew that his power would turn against us sooner or
later and that another being would have to take his
place. Our greatest fear was that it would be an
Ušumgal. Now, Tiamata is relieved instead that the
new Barag (king) of the Abzu happens to be my
Nitahlam (lover). She knows that you are safe at my
side and has unlimited faith in my judgment. We also
think that my union with you will calm the others.
Thanks to your revelations, Tiamata and I have gotten
in touch with the Sukkal.[49] They are presently on
their way to Mulmul (the Pleiades) on a
reconnaissance mission to keep an eye on the planet
Dukù. They will contact the few Nindiğir (priestesses)
who happen to be there.”
I jumped.
« They will be slaughtered, and our Nindiğir as well, if
they try to communicate with each other. We must reach them
at all costs!
- Don’t be afraid, tender Nitahlam (lover), that’s just
another of the programs that your creator has equipped
you with. Forget this horribly negative thinking, for
you know that if you project these kinds of thoughts
too long, they might become reality. You possess
mastery of the Níama (vital force), don’t use it as an
instrument that could be turned against you and us.
Charming male, don’t be a slave to your thoughts. »
Mamítu was indeed very enlightened, but also very
stubborn on one particular point: “I am not a male, gentle
Nammu, and even less a Kadištu (planner).” The priestess
rolled her eyes to the ceiling, shook her head and made an
exasperated grimace: “Don’t be fooled, Sa’am. You are now in
the midst of your apprenticeship, and from what I have seen,
you are dong very well. It seems you have been able to receive
the images that I sent you, and this merely through the touch of
my hands. That is astonishing in itself. You will become a great
Kadištu (planner). As for your anatomy, you seem to have
forgotten that we are both geneticists. I am a surgeon as well
and will see to it that you are equipped with a sexual organ in
due time. When you have a Ğèš (penis), I will make of you a
Nungal and my Barag (king). Then we will practice what I
have taught you and you will teach it to others by way of the
mystical path. But don’t worry, it won’t just be work, we will
also have time for Namkiágna (love), our Namkiágna[50]. Then
you will honor me and we will enjoy the simple pleasures of
merging with one another by way of the tangible path. You’ll
see, it is a very pleasant affair.”
Namkiágna? What did this word mean? I did not ask her
any more questions, for we were both tired. We embraced
affectionately and Mamítu slowly fell asleep, one arm and leg
wrapped around my body. This is how I sealed my unshakable
alliance with the Amašutum, the proud People of the Serpent,
with the eternal symbol of the two intertwined Muš (serpents).
From that day on, the great Mamítu-Nammu took me on as her
Nitahlam (lover) and honored me with all her appreciation and
confidence. Did this have something to do with what she
called Namkiágna (love)? On the next day Mamítu and I
returned to the Abzu (subterranean world) of Nalulkára, our
new home. From then on, with her agreement, I called her just
Mamí, or, more often than not, Mam. For those of us who
belong to the confraternity of the priestesses and the Nungal,
these two words symbolized the qualities of motherhood and
affection. Today, on Uraš (Earth), this word has kept its
meaning among the Gina’abul, as well as among the Ukubi
(the genus Homo)[51].
 33. Female Amašutum figurine of the “lizard head”
type. It is made of terracotta, 15 cm high, was found at Ur
and has been dated to the Obeid period (5th millennium
B.C.). This statuette displays an elongated wig (made of
bitumen) similar to those worn by certain Amašutum.
There are “studs” on the shoulders, an ornament similar to
those that can be seen on the shoulders of high Mayan
dignitaries (see below). Among the Maya, these circles
symbolized “OL,” which meant “perception,”
“consciousness,” the “way” and “memory.” The Mayan
OL is related both to the Sumerian UL, which means
“past” or “ornament,” “star,” “splendor” and the verb “to
shine,” and to UL5, “privilege” and “protection.” These
circles or studs on the shoulders of Sumerian gods and
Mayan dignitaries symbolized crystals, or ME, in which
the knowledge of the gods was stored. In note 32, we saw
that crystals like quartz were used as transmitter-receivers
to store and send information.
 34. Mayan priest with the OL or IL ornaments on his
shoulders, symbolized by quartz crystals. Only “gods” and
high dignitaries enjoyed this privilege in the past. This
topic is dealt with in note 14 of volume 2 in this series.
 The Heirs to the Abzu
“The planets have a consciousness and the power to act.
They have spirits that guide them and whom they obey.
They give living beings the fruit of their actions, whether
good or bad.”
Karapâtrî, Shrî Vishnu Tattva (13)

≈
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Ía
Rumors of the coming of the new king of the Abzu
spread like wildfire throughout the planet. Understandably, our
arrival in the Abzu (subterranean world) of Nalulkára was
greeted with considerable mistrust on the part of the Šutum
who had escaped the epidemic or the massacres. The horrible
spectacle that awaited Mam and myself plunged us into a
reality in the most violent sense of the word. The Abzu was in
the throes of widespread disorder, with many cities partially
destroyed or left abandoned in a state of dilapidation. The
Šutum still in good enough condition were busy gathering as
much dry wood as possible for pyres to cremate the bodies of
the males slaughtered a few days before by the forces of
Lahmu, Lahamu, and their sinister gray-skinned accomplices.
Entire villages had been razed. The roads and fields were
littered with corpses that gave off an unbearable stench. How
many had been killed? Eight-hundred thousand? A million and
a half?
Everywhere we looked there were piles of bodies
stacked up like so much firewood. Mamítu was unable to hold
back her tears. I had never seen anyone weep before and found
the sight intolerable. To my way of thinking, weeping
represented nothing but the externalization of pain or
suffering. Was Mam ill? Where was she suffering? It was
impossible! I put my arms around her and asked her to tell me
what strange affliction had befallen her. Her eyes clouded, she
tried to reassure me by saying that I would know how to cry
myself when I became a planner. If that was her idea of
reassurance, it didn’t work for me. For that matter, I was not in
much of a hurry to become a Nungal anymore.
Our way took us along the forest that bordered Šàlam.
It was cool there and somewhat dark. In the distance we could
see processions carrying bodies to great pyres that sparkled
like so many stars lost in the vastness of the landscape. There
was something at once striking and supernatural about the
sight. At Mamítu’s request, we were preparing to leave our
vantage point, when we suddenly spotted Lahmu and Lahamu
coming toward us at the edge of the forest. The two Ušumgal
brothers seemed to be in good spirits and openly stared at my
Úgunu (mistress). Seeing me, they became more guarded and
bowed in my direction. The two Ušum (dragons) congratulated
me emphatically on my “feat” and cursed the memory of
Abzu-Abba, even rejoicing at his death. How ironic: Lahmu
and Lahamu were the direct descendants of our late king and
seemed to hold no ill will towards me…
They asked me for permission to finish the job that they
had started in the name of An and the Anunna. At that, I could
sense Mamítu anxiously trying to catch my eye. She appeared
very tense. The two Ušumgal noticed this immediately and
began to berate her, calling her a “bad worker” and
“troublemaker.” I pointed out to them that the great Mamítu-
Nammu had chosen me as her Nitahlam (lover) and that this
made her equally heir to the kingdom of the Abzu
(subterranean world). “Her word is as good as mine”, I threw
in. I ordered them to leave the premises immediately and not
to return without our express permission. Disgusted, the two
Ušum (dragons) made outrageous reproaches to me about
violating my agreement and the fact that I had entered an
alliance with a separatist against the Ušumgal monarchy. With
a sharp gesture, Lahamu pointed his accusing finger at my
companion: “The planner of Uraš upholds the dogma of the
fallen queen whose name no one should pronounce. Her
reality is not ours and never has been! The Primal Matrix
stained her with blood in a shameful pact she cannot undo. We
have all rejected her except her mother, Tigeme (Tiamata) who
can do nothing more to support her. Dark Nuréa will only
bring you the freezing cold of the storm!”
Nuréa, I said to myself. So Mamítu-Nammu was
Nuréa? I was really upset. I had to manage this information
while remaining impassible in front of my attackers. Noticing
that I did not react their provocation, the two Ušumgals
reproached me outrageously for the violation of my
engagement. I calmly replied that my decisions were my own
business and that I had never signed anything with anybody.
As soon as they were out of sight in the forest, Mamítu
enthusiastically threw her arms around my neck. With a heavy
heart, I could not hide the strange effect these revelations were
having on me. My soul was pierced on all sides. This priestess
with a thousand secrets was born an eternity before me; a
temporal abyss seemed to separate us. With a soft gaze, she
snuggled up in my arms, telling me that when the day came,
she would better tell me about her past. I nodded and she
kissed me on the cheek to thank me.
Her excessive displays of emotion had baffled me at
the beginning, but I was starting to get used to them. It was an
integral part of her personality and probably accounted to
some degree for the attraction that she exerted on me. The
unsettling and mysterious energy radiated by her charm and
her mind had become indispensable to me. She knew this well
and played on it. Thanks to her beneficial influence, I was
improving with each passing day and becoming more
attractive—as she liked to point out—the better to keep her
happy.
◆◆◆

Wisdom, prudence and kindness were Mam’s favorite

words and precepts. During those difficult times, in which
distress and sorrow often went hand in hand, we did not stop
observing these basic life principles for a single moment. We
decided to leave the Šutum in peace and turned our efforts to
finding an antidote to protect the survivors. The Nungal were
settled in the Abzu (subterranean world) and enjoyed friendly
relations with the Šutum.
 There was so much to be done! Many regions had
become barren and the Šutum had to put up with deplorable
living conditions. Everything had to be organized anew and
restored for the sake of peace—and life. The Nungal proved
invaluable in helping to reconstruct the houses and temples.
Gradually, in a little over a month, the Abzu of Nalulkára
began to look like a pleasant place again. At the end of these
long and exhausting days, all the cities of the Abzu held
sumptuous feasts and Šìrhúlla (joyous songs) were sung in our
honor. My delightful Nammu was both enchanted and touched
by this display of fervor and enthusiasm.
We were now carefully filtering the fresh waters of the
Abzu Kingdom, for through my revelations we discovered that
they all suffered planned poisoning. The surface of Nalulkára,
a veritable desert as far as the eye could see, spread its hot
sand to the doors of the largest cities; its rare oceans were
stagnant and lifeless expanses. With the rivers of the Abzu
representing the totality of our planet’s drinking water
reserves, Mamítu decided to clean them all for safety.
Unlike the Amašutum and Nungal, the Šutum were not
immune to the poison that had been put into the rivers. That
was probably the purpose of the measure and it provided a
good starting point to search for an effective antidote.
Out of gratitude, the Šutum and Nungal gave Mam a
new title with a double meaning: Damkina, which means “the
wife who orders the source.” I was given the same honor and
called Nudímmud, “he who shapes and brings images into the
world.” We have the irritating habit of giving titles whenever
someone accomplishes a major deed. It was a great honor, of
course, but the more titles one had, the more unwieldy it
became.
◆◆◆

These events had taken me away from my primary

task, so I finally resumed the intensive production of Nungal.
By now we had some 3,086 specimens, all of which had been
sent to the Abzu after having undergone a rigorous initiation
into the work of planning in our capital, Unulahgal.
 A few days before, some priestesses based in the
colonies of the Ubšu’ukkinna solar system in Mulmul (the
Pleiades) managed to establish contact with Nalulkára and
transmitted the little information that they had gotten on
progress in the production of Anunna on the planet Dukù. The
Anunna already produced numbered in the thousands, no less
than 20,000. Just as disturbing to me was the fact that some of
them did not come from the same prototype. An and Ninmah
had taken the trouble of programming several lines of Anunna
equipped with different constitutions and characters. Since I
had more time to work with now, I had the ambition of doing a
little genetic manipulating of my own. With that in mind, I
started working in secret to program different types of Nungal.
 35. Plate 33 of the Fejervary-Mayer Codex. The goddess
of the Waters, incarnated as a tree-priestess, initiates a male
subject who is gradually turning into a plant himself. Note
that the goddess displays the attributes of the Serpent.
 All the while, Mamítu kept trying to invite me to attend
training workshops so as to get a better idea of the noble task
of planning, but I had declined each time. I knew perfectly
well how this kind of initiation was performed and I did not
want to have to deal with the nudity of the Nungal, even as a
mere observer. I could see enough of their anatomy each time
one was created, and that was more than enough for my taste. I
felt wounded to the depths of my being because of this
injustice: being deficient in my flesh, but knowing that my
creator was whole! To calm me down, I thought of all the
Anunna being produced by An, all of whom would have the
same characteristics as me. That way I pulled myself together.
 36. Male figurine of the “lizard head” type in green
clay (15 cm high, Obeid period, 5th millennium B.C.). This
statuette was found in the city of Eridu near the skeleton of
a woman, probably a priestess. It represents a male
Gina’abul of the Nungal type or a sexed Anunna. It
displays the same crystal ornaments, or ME, on the
shoulders as the female figurine in fig. 15. On Earth, the
ME of the “gods” were often hung around their necks or
set on their shoulders, as we can see in many tablets, such
as those of Anzu found at Assur. Some Gina’abul wore ME
like medals, a practice that also marked social rank.
Interestingly enough, the equivalent of ME in Akkadian is
Parsû, which can be decomposed into PÀR-SU, “the
knowledge of sovereignty” or “that which is displayed on
the body,” which confirms our observations. As in fig. 8,
the skull is much too vertical, but this is a human depiction
that was probably done from memory at a time when the
Sumerian “gods” were less present, or more hidden,
among the Mesopotamian population.
 Trial by the Fire of Aš - “The mystery of
the tree and the fruit”
“They hatch cockatrice eggs, and weave the spider’s web;
he that eat of their eggs die,
and that which is crushed break out into a viper.”

Bible, Isaiah 59:5(8)

“The Holy, blessed be He, created the world thanks to the Tree of Knowledge,
eat of it and you shall be assured, ‘You shall be as Elohim, knowing of Good and
Evil.’ Thus Elohim is called: the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.”

Zohar, Beresheet 2, 35b(4)

“Drinking and drinking again, falling to the ground and rising again to drink
some more. This is how liberation is achieved.”

Kûlârnava Tantra, 7:99(14)

╦
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Àš
“Dumu An-ak árzu Abzu-ma ak akdè katarzu Nalulkára-ra
si-il-le-dè.”
“Son of An, may your glory be firmly established in the
Abzu, may your praises be proclaimed throughout Nalulkára.” I
heard these words on the forty-seventh day of our arrival in
Abzu (subterranean world). It was the dreaded moment of my
initiation into the Amašutum community. A small group of
priestesses had taken me away from my cloning sessions and led
me into the desert. We stayed there and fasted ritually for seven
days. I had told them that I usually ate very little, but they
insisted on believing that abstinence from food was an unusual
thing for me. At the end of these seven days of meditation in the
desert, we boarded an aircraft and flew for a short while low
over the dunes and cliffs. The ship landed in the middle of
nowhere, not far from a deep natural fault. With a wave of the
hand, I was pointed out to the trench where we were to enter.
Mam had told me nothing about the hidden significance of this
initiation, but made it clear that I would have to undergo it in
order to have the blessings of the council of priestesses of
Nanulkára. After walking down a seemingly endless series of
steps hewn out of solid rock, we finally came to a dark
underground chamber where I was advised to kneel.

37. Sa’am and the Amašutum in front of the entrace of the

initiation’s place
 In front of me stood a dozen priestesses all dressed in short
white linen dresses the fabric of which was crossed over the
breasts and gathered at the waist by a belt made of kùsig (gold).
Each wore thin bracelets and close-fitting diadems. Behind
them, resin torches burned gently and cast the phantoms-like
shadows of the priestesses against the walls. I could hear the
sound of chanting in distant galleries and voices reciting hymns
in the “womb dialect” of the Amašutum. The voice that had
intoned my praise just before now became more intense as two
priestesses emerged from the middle of the cortege. They were
very impressive with their sacred diadems and horned
headpieces, their bodies decked with sparkling jewels. They,
too, wore short dresses, but with one of the shoulders and
breasts left undraped. One of them had her arms crossed in front
of her chest while the other held a mysterious cup. The stares
that I got from the two horned priestesses did not seem very
well disposed in my regard. Or was it just their make-up, the
thick line of kohl running to their temples, that made them
appear so stern? The chanting ceased immediately when the
priestess with the crossed arms began to speak:
“Young Búluğ (novice), you are here to perfect your
knowledge. You are in this holy place, in this Kizàh[52] (secret
place) to honor Creation and to learn more about us. Do you
know who we are?
- Yes, I do. You are the Diğir-Kadištu[53] (planning
goddesses) and your task is to create life on different
planets in our universe. You claim to possess Taltal
(wisdom) and the knowledge of the mysteries of the
world.”
 38- Star-shaped Sumerian pictographs rendering the
words DIĞIR or DINGIR, “deity(ies).” This star was
generally placed before the names of deities, but also
symbolized the heavens and the Sumerian “god” An. It is
interesting to note that this same star can be found within
the old Sumerian sign for the sacred stele that symbolizes
the nobility and the gods of the heavens.
 “What else, young Búluğ (novice)?
- You are the Ancient Muš (Serpent) of Creation and
represent your divine race in the Confederation of
Kadištu (planners). That is why you are called the
Uğa-Muš (People of the Serpent).
- What do you know of our powers?
- Unfortunately, I have no inkling of them. You are
very secretive, you guard your mysteries well—
assuming, of course, that you really possess the
powers that you claim.
- You are nothing but a child! As guardians of the
Divine Teaching emanating from the Original Source,
we are Taltal (wisdom). Do you know what that means,
son of An ?
- Since I possess secret understanding myself, I am
tempted to say yes. I know that you transmit
information by way of sexuality, but I am not sure I
understand your words, Nindiğir (priestess).
- How presumptuous! You know very little about us
indeed. You are blinded by your self-confidence. We
are one with the Gissu (Shadow) and know all the
secrets of the Zalag (Light). We, the Gíg (dark ones),
can bring you into contact with the sacred or destroy
you, as we see fit.”
At that, I could not help but laugh. If anyone was being
presumptuous here, it was they and not me. The
assembled Amašutum glared in reproach. When I had
stopped laughing, the horned priestess went on:
“Has he fasted for seven Ud (days) as our tradition
requires?
- Yes! But in fact he hardly ever eats, for I should
remind you that he possesses Níama, the universal
force.”
I recognized the soft and familiar voice of Mamítu behind
me. After she had said this, the priestesses started murmuring
something incomprehensible in Emešà, the “womb language.”
Some of them seemed upset. Their spokeswoman turned to me
again:
“It seems that two of us in this assembly were not aware of
this fact. At any rate, now we know the reason for your
insolence. Unfortunately for you, this power will be of no help
to you and will only make the initiation that much more
difficult. You will have to forget your usual reflexes. There is
another thing that you should know, Búluğ (novice), and that
is that we are not very optimistic as to the outcome of this
initiation. The venerable Mamítu-Nammu has chosen you as
her Nitahlam (lover) and, in light of this, you have no choice
but to submit yourself to our sacred rituals. Should you
withstand the test, you will become even more powerful than
before, but you will also have to swear allegiance to our
people. On the other hand, if you fail, the toxic effects of the
beverage that you are going to drink will render you blind and
mad until the end of your days, consuming you one piece at a
time… Búluğ, what images did Mamítu-Nammu transmit to
you during your only “mystical” relation so far?
- Some memories that are very dear to her and that I
cannot reveal.
- You must reveal them, Búluğ (novice), and Mamítu-
Nammu knows it.
- They were mostly images of Uraš (Earth) and of her
strong wish to bear offsprings. I have seen thousands
of dark, coarse-skinned heads. They all had similar
eyes and they weren’t from here. There was also a
vague face of a child Gina’abul, it was very blurry…”
Mamítu immediately added:
“What Sa’am has left out is the fact that he is sexless and
that he is the first prototype of the lineage that An and Ninmah
are creating on the planet of Dukù in Mulmul (the Pleiades).
The images were elicited by the ministration of his hands and
not his sexual organ, since he does not possess one as yet.
- Do you have the intention of giving him one soon so
that he can plan with you using the tangible way and
 also give you an offspring?
- Yes, soon… with your approval, Mam replied in a
muted tone of voice. Should he survive today’s
initiation intact, he will have to undergo the second
and final initiation, and this he will be able to do only
when he has a Ğèš (penis).”
The priestess with horns addressed me again:
“What else have you seen?
- Images that remained inapprehensible to me until
recently…
- Express yourself!
- In the distant days when she was undoubtedly called
Nuréa, I saw Nammu face a female much larger than
herself. A queen to whom Nuréa seemed to have taken
an oath.
- An agreement of what kind?
- I can not say … I see on the other hand a child
constantly hidden from the eyes of our society. A
young Amašutum protected by a breed of felids, but
with whom mother and daughter have no direct
contact for the benefit of all. Felids not wishing to
touch one of us. The child often finds herself alone,
she is brilliant and receives a holographic education
when her mother has to be away. She seems to need a
lot of sleep.
- Where do these events take place?
- On Uraš, I think …
- Whatever happens, you shouldn’t tell anyone about
this, especially not the Ušumgals. The life of our
community depends on it.
- So be it!
- Are you ready, Búluğ (novice), to take the sacred
path that leads to knowledge of oneself and of the
divine? Are you prepared to understand the powers of
 the Eternal Feminine? We, the Gíg (dark ones), are the
dispensers of eternal life and knowledge. You who are
going to die, are you ready to listen and accept this?
- I am.”
The priestess who was holding the initiation cup
approached me with cat-like steps. She dipped her fingers
into the sacred potion and placed a single drop of it on
my tongue, keeping her kohl-lined eyes fixed on mine.
For an instant I thought that I saw a flame flash in her
gaze. The strange potion had the bitter taste of an organic
substance, but I was unable to guess its composition or
origin.
The priestess placed the cup on the ground at her feet,
blindfolded me and tied my hands behind my back. All of
a sudden I felt a burning sensation in my mouth and a
horrible pain spread slowly in my throat. I had a vision of
an egg with a snake in it, but could not understand this
apparition. Suddenly dizzy, I nearly collapsed, but the
priestess tightened her grip on me and helped me stay on
my feet. She put her hand to my throat to check my pulse
and then guided me to another room that felt very cool. I
sensed her face move close to my ear and whisper: “The
way to felicity is without curves. Look for the Ğiš (tree),
only the light of its Úr (trunk) will be able to save you.
Eat the Ğiš’šennur (fruit of the tree), otherwise the fire
will devour you. Extinguish fire with fire.” The priestess
took the precaution of repeating the mysterious
instructions so that I would be able to remember them.
After that, it seemed that I could hear her footsteps
gradually shuffling away. I supposed that the priestess
must have left the room, leaving me alone with this
enigma.
Completely disoriented in the dark, I felt my way only
with my feet and began walking without knowing where I was
headed. I wandered through a number of deep caves and
galleries, but had no idea in which direction I should be going.
The poison was beginning to take dangerous effect, causing
me pain, and I had the natural reflex of resorting to my Níama
(vital force) to leave my body and orient myself in spite of the
blindfold. But my Šagra all seemed paralyzed. I was seized by
a cold rush of panic. I kept painstakingly feeling my way
through what seemed like an endless maze, running into dead
ends everywhere. The more the time passed, the more my
blood felt like fire in my veins.
I was going about the whole thing in the wrong way. I
tried to recall and concentrate on the priestess’ enigmatic
instructions. How would I ever find a tree in this place? That
was impossible, she must have meant it symbolically; but
where to look? Sharp contractions in my belly made me
double up in pain, forcing me to continue on my knees. At the
same time my ears were filled with horribly distorted sounds.
The words of the priestess reverberated in my head again and
again. I let myself vomit as much as I could, thinking this
would give me some relief, but it only made matters worse.
The endless corridors and my fatigue were making me febrile.
Then my limbs and senses started being numbed by a
treacherous coldness. I became incoherent and cried out
several times, calling Mam, but there was no reply. I was
desperate. I began to intone the name of my father-creator,
imploring him to come to my rescue. Unexpectedly, I heard
female voices that appeared to be coming from beyond the
grave: “The initiation is not going well, he could still betray us
in spite of himself. We have to stop it.”. Then Mam’s voice
intervened: “No! If we stop now, he will die! You have to give
him a chance, our laws demand it… even if he could bring us
in danger. You knew full well the risks that you were taking in
deciding to initiate the son of an Ušumgal. I was against this
initiation, but you were too stubborn. Now you have to finish
what you started.”
After that, a heavy silence fell. I was alone once again
and could only count on myself. I lay on the ground, trying to
gather my wits about me and calm down. How had I been able
to hear them? This was really a very mysterious place. With
the remaining strength in my arms, I was able to break the fine
rope tying my hands and finally remove my blindfold. But
there was no difference! As the horned priestess had foretold,
darkness had overcome of me: I was blind. I got back to my
feet with some effort and wandered through the endlessly
curving corridors. This forsaken labyrinth must be endlessly
huge.
”Look for the tree” I told myself out loud, “Look for the
Ğiš and the Burru (fruit).” Confused, my head completely
muddled, I could only laugh. “No, that’s not it! What had she
said, what word had she used? Ğiš’šennur, not Burru.” In our
language, these two words had to do with a fruit. My mistake
made me laugh so hard that my sides hurt and my muscles
contracted. The pain was so intense that I stopped wandering
in the dark and lay down again on the ground to try to clear
my head. I could no longer move, but I still disposed of some
lucidity.
Our language left nothing up to chance. If the priestess
had used the word Ğiš’šennur, then there must have been a
reason, a truth hidden in the phonetics. The information I had
inherited from my creator told me that the word Ğiš’šennur
was seldom used by the males of our race and that it originated
among the priestesses. There was the key, right in front of my
nose. In fact, all of the words used in this enigma were part of
our language, but directly derived from Emešà, the dialect of
the Amašutum. I only had to decompose the word Ğiš’šennur
in order to solve the enigma.
The word Ğiš in our language means a tree, but it can be
decomposed phonetically into ĞI (dark) and IŠ (mountain in
the sense of star). From this, I had to conclude that, for the
priestesses, ĞIŠ or ĞI-IŠ simply meant “the Dark Ones of the
Stars” or “the Dark Stars.” Yes, this interpretation accurately
described the role that they played in our race. They were both
the Dark Ones who took care of the stars and Dark Stars, that
is, planners who possessed the knowledge of the Absolute.
I was faced with a similar translation problem with the
word Šennur. The word ŠEN meant “pure” or “to reflect,” but
NUR did not exist in our language. This could only mean that
this particle was a combination of NU and UR. The syllable
NU means “light,” but UR did not fit in. I did my best to recall
the exact wording of the priestess’ instructions: “The way to
felicity is without curves. Look for the Ğiš (tree), only the
light of its Úr (trunk) will be able to save you. Eat the
Ğiš’šennur (fruit of the tree) otherwise the fire will devour
you. Extinguish fire with fire.” The missing UR had to be the
homophone ÚR, which means “tree trunk,” but also “lap”! I
had cracked the code of the enigma. The Ğiš’šennur would tell
me the hidden meaning of the fruit, as well as of the place
where I would be able to find the fruit that would bring me
back to the light; that is to say, to healing[54].
My throat tightened. I hardly dared to put all the new
words together. Our language is so precise that once the terms
have been put in the right order, the meaning appears of itself.
Nonetheless, by way of reassuring myself, I spoke the words
out loud, articulating as well as I could to make sure that I had
made no mistakes: “The Dark Stars reflect their light in their
uterus.” I could not possibly be mistaken!
I became dizzy as I took in the meaning of these words.
Prey to all kinds of incoherent thoughts and in great pain as
well, I started to crawl with all the strength of my despair to
find a priestess who would free me from my torment. I could
not go back the entire way, much less on my belly. There must
be a short-cut that would lead me directly to the Kizàh (secret
place), the initiation room. Not knowing why, I started crying
out the first words of the enigmatic formula that I had still not
decrypted: “The way to felicity is without curves.” Shaking in
every limb, I started crawling straight ahead of me, constantly
afraid of running into a wall. Close to exhaustion, I could hear
my heart beat faster from the effort, blood hammering in my
temples. After having covered a distance of about eight times
my body length, I thought I heard footsteps coming toward
me. I stopped for a brief moment to hear better, then began
crying out, repeating the formula I had discovered: “The Dark
Stars reflect their light in their uterus.” A scent of flowers
suddenly came to my nostrils. A priestess squatted near me
and spoke gently:
“I possess the secret of the plant that gives strength, that
alleviates pain and fatigue. I am a bearer of the sacred vigor.
Do you want to taste of it?
- Yes… help me, I beg of you…”
 Overcome by euphoria, I plunged my face in her arms.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she comforted me with an
embrace that today I would simply term maternal. My feverish
hands brushed her arms and hands and discovered that she
wore heavy bracelets on her wrists and a metal ring that
wound around her index finger like a snake. With this came a
feeling of peace.
“Son of the Night, she went on softly, you will soon be
one with us. Have no fear, and eat of the nutritious substance
that transforms beings, swallow the Úzug and the flame of the
sacred energy will be yours.”
The priestess had pronounced the magic word that
dissipated any further doubts about the meaning of my
initiation, but without diminishing my stupefaction. I heard her
pull her dress up to her hips. In a solemn and troubling
manner, she guided my face toward the folds of her dress and
then eased it between her legs. In spite of my fever, my sense
of smell registered the change from the suave floral perfume to
the strange sharp smell of blood… I was completely
disconcerted, and hesitated, but the priestess urged me on: “I
offer you the hidden treasure, I reveal the secret! My son,
drink of the holy Únamtila (plant of life), eat the sacred and
nourishing fruit and you will be healed.”
A sudden bestial impulse welled up inside me, flooding
my senses. I was not going to wait for her to repeat the offer,
since my very life depended on it. The awesome prospect of
saving my life drew every last ounce of energy out of the
recesses of my being. I drank her blood with unabashed greed
until I thought I would pass out. Gradually, I felt a strong
regenerating fire[55] pulsing through my veins. My sight also
returned little by little and confronted me with the vision of the
priestess’ exposed Ğála (vulva) dispensing its providential
Úzug into my mouth. The spell of intoxication and vertigo
lasted long enough for me to take a few more gulps of the
precious substance. Afterwards, I pulled away from the Ğála
and saw in front of me a foot with meticulously black-painted
toenails in a sandal with golden thongs. I shut my eyes. Time
seemed to stand still. In a flash, I realized the other meaning of
the word Úzug, which refers to the menstrual blood of the
priestesses. Here, too, there was a meaning hidden in the
syllabic and phonetic combination of the word: decomposed
into Ú-ZU-ÚG, it became the phrase “the furious wisdom-
plant or nourishment-wisdom”!
The priestess gently pulled away from me and did a
graceful somersault on the ground. Although I had not
completely regained my vision, I saw her face for the first
time. Her lips were painted black and her eyes were of a deep
green underlined by a streak of kohl, that intensified her gaze.
I was stunned by her beauty. There was an ineffable look in
her eyes. “Is everything alright, my son?” she asked with a
look of surprise. I replied with a simple nod. Then she took a
piece of cloth of unknown material and wiped my face, which
must have been flecked with blood. Her eyes seemed familiar
somehow. The priestess then made me drink a draft of a liquid
that had an odd metallic taste. I seemed to recognize an
aftertaste of kùsig (gold).
 39. The Egyptian goddess Hathor, also called the “Lady
of the Sycamore” or the “Lady of Life,” offers her fruits to a
man. Tomb of Pashedu in the Valley of the Kings.
 40- Old Sumerian signs for the word AMA, which means
“breadth” and “nobility.” AMA is also a suffix in the name
of many goddesses. This sign symbolizes AMA-AR-GI, “the
remission of divine debts,” or, literally translated: “shining
and stable mother (or, who renews).” This sign clearly
represents a sacred stele or raised stone, the attribute of
deities of the heavens. Interestingly enough, the homophonic
variation AMA2 refers not to femininity but to the notions of
“lord,” “strength,” or the “wild bull.” In the second volume
of this series, we will tell of the Ama’argi caste of priestesses
associated with the planet Earth.
 Still under the shock of what the Amašutum had just put
me through, I was even more dumbfounded when, with my
eyesight completely restored, I saw that we were in the Kizàh
(secret place). All my wandering through endless tunnels had
been nothing but an illusion: I had never left the room! As for
the Amašutum, they seemed to be still gathered there, leaning
against the wall, and must have witnessed the entire cruel
spectacle of my distress at the heart of darkness. On the
ground, I could make out the outlines of a huge labyrinth. This
image symbolized the absolute initiation, for it led the initiate
toward a salutary renewal and an ultimate metamorphosis. As
I was about to stand up, the priestess who had given me her
Úzug presented me her foot for a thank-you kiss. I solemnly
obeyed. Looking slightly embarrassed, she walked away and
melted into the group of priestesses. The strange horned
priestess came up to me again: “Very good, Son of the Night.
As you have been able to experience for yourself, truth in this
universe always takes a straight line. The shorter the line, the
more you are in the truth. This line is the initiatory path that
leads from the ephemeral to the eternal. If you had already
known this fact, you would not have had to suffer as you did.
Now you know part of our secret. We, the Gíg (Dark Ones),
proud representatives of our Mother Tiamata, embody the
stability and strength of a social system that is several Limamu
(millennia) old and that can endure only if it preserves its
independence. In these troubled times, when your Kuku
(ancestors) have openly declared their plans of conquest, we
need your support to maintain what has become a very
delicate balance.”. I immediately interrupted the priestess:
“Only a few moments ago you were prepared to let me die,
and now you are asking me to help you?
- We trust no one, my son. As far as we know, no male
has ever passed the trial of fire by Aš. In order to
deserve our knowledge, you have to experience it first;
only then will you understand it. Mamítu-Nammu
chose you and we have just had the confirmation that
she did not err on your account. You are indeed the
one who will be able to bring the balance that we need.
- I don’t believe in your prophecies, but I have a great
deal of respect for your cause and will not hesitate to
help you where I can. Nevertheless, I will not continue
to betray my creator for the sake of some quarrels
about ethics that have nothing to do with me. As you
know, Mamítu and I are in the process of creating a
line of male Kadištu (planners). The purpose of this
undertaking is precisely to bring the balance you need
in order to preserve your independence, since it seems
to be threatened. I have expressed to Mamítu all the
doubts that I had concerning An and there is nothing
more that I can do.
- You are mistaken, young Lugal (prince). Now that
you know part of our secret, you must also be aware of
the extent of our powers. The blood of the Goddess
saved you from certain death and is the antidote to
many other ills as well. Moreover, when it is mixed
with other components, it can even be used as an elixir
of life. Under no circumstances is this knowledge
permitted to leave this room! The production of new
males in great number is a real danger to our kind. If I
am not mistaken, you do not seem to know the entire
story of the Gina’abul…
- What do you mean? What should I know that I don’t
already know?
- Do not be so impatient. You are missing some
elements for the simple reason that, a long time ago, it
was decided that each Alağní (clone) of male
appearance created by an Ušumgal would be
programmed in such a way that he would not know the
truth about us.
- You seem to be very sure of yourselves, I replied.
You will not be able to keep your secret hidden
forever.
- Only you and the Ušumgal know it. You, thanks to
this initiation, and the Ušumgal for other reasons. If
the newly-made Alağní (clones) were ever to learn our
 secret, be they Nungal or Anunna, they will
necessarily have gotten it from one of you.
- You really underestimate the Anunna. What’s more, I
have a hard time believing that you really are
incapable of betraying your own thoughts.Yet, as you
said before, we have abilities that enable us to keep
our secrets hidden. We only have to avoid thinking
about them. We have been practicing this for Limamu
(millennia). Our ancestors, the Dark Matriarchs, did
this long before us. We are even able to lie to someone
who possesses the Níama force. In fact, it is all in the
mind. Think about it: you who benefited from the
knowledge of your creator, you did not know about
this power beforehand. Why? Because you were
genetically programmed and, for all your abilities, you
were not able to discover our secrets.
- That’s true. Still, that does not explain why my
creator would have programmed me in this way.
- Probably the better to control you. While we’re on
the subject, you should know that we have had doubts
about An for quite a long time. Our suspicions have
been confirmed in part by your disclosures. We also
had suspicions about his ulterior motives, though not
about his betraying his oath, for no Ušumgal would
ever transgress a law or betray an oath sworn in front
of the assembly of the Seven.
- If you really can keep your secrets, then there should
be no danger. Don’t worry about the new creatures.
You should know that the council of the Ušumgal
decided that the Nungal and the Anunna would be
virtually immortal.
- Yes, as you just said, virtually. They will have long
lives, but that does not mean that they will have the
physical immortality that is ours and that you also
have by virtue of your lineage. An Ud (day) will come
when this problem will create envy and jealousy, a
situation that already cropped up a long time ago. We
do not want to relive such painful events and we do
 not want to become sexual slaves. As Mamítu-
Nammu’s Nitahlam (lover), lord of the Nungal and
ruler of the Anunna, you must protect us from this
complication.”
I bowed deeply to show my approval. Mamí then joined
me in the middle of the room, but she seemed troubled. The
horned priestess added these final words:“We would also like
to congratulate you for having successfully resisted Abzu-
Abba. A long time ago, he was forced to undergo the trial of
the fire by Aš. But since he already knew our secret, we had to
introduce additional difficulties. Unfortunately, his initiation
did not go well. We managed to extricate him in time, but this
experience left irreversible consequences. That is where his
problem came from and why he harbored such ill feelings
toward us for the rest of his life. Abzu-Abba repeatedly asked
us to be submitted to the second trial, but we could not permit
him to do so, for he was sick and perverse, as so many males
are. In any case, we considered that he had failed the first
part. After having been crowned by the Queen of the Throne,
the next and last trial, which we call the fire of Peš, will take
you where “no one returns intact” and complete your
knowledge once and for all. After that, you will know
absolutely everything about us and the power of the Gissu
(Shadow) and the Zalag (Light) from which we come.”
These final words marked the end of my first initiation
into the community of the Amašutum. This initiation, to which
I had been submitted in spite of myself, would enable me to
contain the sacred fire, the sacred energy of the Eternal
Feminine. From now on, I would be able to frequent the
unfathomable second mouth of the Goddess, the one that heals
ailments and grants direct access to the divine.
 41- Mexican codex from Borgia, plate 66. A tree of Life
ejects a stream of blood from a vulva-like opening. The roots
of the tree are evoked by the head of a reptile, which clearly
recalls the association of a tree with a serpent in the Book of
Genesis and many other cultures around the world.
 The Secret of the Amašutum
and the Meaning of the Spider
“It is [me] the Prôtennoia (emanation), the thought that
exists in [the light].
It is [me] the movement that exists in all things, [the one in
which] all things subsist…
the one that exists before all things which are called by
three names
and which alone exist, perfect. I am invisible in the
thought of the invisible,
while [I] am revealed among the immeasurable, the
ineffable.
I am incomprehensible, being the incomprehensible,
while I move in every creature(12)“.
NH XIII, 1 - The First Thought in the Triple Form, 35.1 -
35.12

Ж
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Imin
Mamí and I returned to the Gigirlah parked near the
windswept entrance to the fault, which meant a strenuous walk
across hot and shifting sands. The priestess waiting on board
to take us back to the Abzu (subterranean world) asked us for
our destination. I replied, “Šàlam.”
Mam, who now seemed worried and despondent, snuggled
up to me and confessed that she had completely forgotten how
harsh the initiations of the Council of Nalulkára could be. I
told her that it did not matter, since I had come through in one
piece. She went on, saying that she felt responsible for what
had happened to me and that she had suffered a great deal
during the initiation. I looked at her with a blank expression,
not really understanding what she was getting at. Words like
“compassion” and “sensitivity” were not yet part of my
vocabulary at the time. I had to settle for the word Namkiágna
(love) that Mam had taught me and whose meaning I was able
to experience from day to day thanks to her.
I was thoughtful, the horned priestess had used the words
Aš and Peš to refer to the two initiations, and both words
happened to mean “spider” in our language. I assumed that
some kind of word play must again be involved. From what I
had learned that day, I understood that many words in our
language were formed with syllables that had merged,
especially through phonetically similar vowels. By
decomposing the term Aš into A-AŠ I could see that the
initiation by the fire of the Aš meant both the initiation of the
“fire of the spider”[56] and of the “fire of the unique source.”
My intuition was right, for the menstrual blood of the females,
which they called the “blood of the Goddess,” indeed
represented an extraordinary resource that could bring healing,
knowledge and—as the priestesses claimed—immortality. I
questioned Mam on the subject of spiders: “Why were the
words Aš and Peš chosen for these initiations? I understand
the meaning of Aš as “unique source,” but for me Peš means
either something precious, the act of breathing deeply or a
kind of fruit; specifically, a fig.”. Mam’s eyes brightened all of
a sudden. She seemed delighted to be able to teach me
something after this trying initiation, which had evidently
overwhelmed her as well.
“To fully understand the hidden meaning of our dialect,
you have to put yourself in our place and learn more about our
ancestors. Now that you have been given over to our care, I
can reveal this secret to you. Many Limamu (millennia) ago,
long before the Šutum existed, we lived in Urbar’ra (the
constellation of Lyra) along with the Sukkal, the Mušgir
(Dragons), the Ušumgal and some Kingú. The latter formed
the royal lineage of Ušu (the constellation of the Dragon),
which is where the Gina’abul originated.
- Of expatriation? Are not the Gina’abul originally
from Ušu (the Dragon) as our traditions reveal?”
Nammu hesitated for a moment while fixing me with her
orange eyes:
“The Gina’abul seed comes from the world of Mother
Barbélú, she told me, from Mulmuš - the Motherhouse (old
name of the Solar System).
- I heard about this place, I thought it was a simple
myth …
- Absolutely not.
- Why all these mysteries?
- The Ušumgals should not know the birthplace of the
first Gina’abul and of the Mušidim ancestors. Our
world would be in danger if Ušumgal learned more
about it
- Why these coordinates of this part of the Universe
must remain hidden?
- Due to the common origin between the Kingú and
the first Gina’abul. Not only do they all have the same
parent, Barbélú, but they all claim to be from the same
homeland. If the Ušumgals came to know about
Mulmuš, it could shatter the dream.
- Break the dream?
- The Mother Barbélú’s dream.
- I don’t grasp anything about what you are talking…
- We all live in the thought of the Mother of the
Origins. Thanks to the interaction of her Zida machine,
her thought simulates hybrid spaces that protect us all,
but in which the Ušumgal and the Kingú are locked
up. We must maintain and preserve the thought of our
Mother otherwise we will unleash Eternal Chaos and
the return of the offspring of Barbélú, the son of
unreason. In order to preserve Mulmuš, Mother
Barbélú sent most of her children far away from the
source reality. This is why the majority of Kingú-
Babbar or Kingú albino found themselves in the
constellation Ušu. In the distant days of the Ušumgal
revolt, the latter left Ušu accompanied by their
servants Kingú captured during their uprising. They
left the desolation of the royal world and entered the
 time-consuming heavenly gates with the firm intention
of dethroning Queen Narra and settling in Urbar’ra.
- - I know the story of the Ušumgal revolt and their
departure for Urbar’ra. Why did they want to dethrone
Narra?
- Sovereign Narra personified Mother Barbélú, she
represented both the power and the supreme
knowledge of the old world. Sometimes Barbélú
passed through her to talk to the Nations. The
Ušumgals wanted to keep her knowledge for
themselves and especially for their own creation:
Tiamata. My mother only held shreds of royalty, her
incomplete knowledge worried the Abba clan with
whom she had bonded through her intimate
relationship with Enzubi-Abzu (Abzu-Abba). After the
Ušumgal revolt, Tiamata donned the bloodstained
royal mantle and dark crown of curse-bearers. But all
quickly realized the insufficiency of their creation;
Tiamata’s knowledge - a reflection of Barbélú -
seemed fragmentary! Stimulated by their hatred drawn
from the deep mines of Turnam, the Ušumgals then
rushed out into the celestial sea towards Urbar’ra.
Nothing resisted them. They walked through the
timeless tunnels that crisscross the great galactic flow.
Soon Anriba (the Milky Way) found itself littered with
debris, gutted hulls and ravaged worlds. Locked in her
room and humiliated by her terrible pact, Mother
Tiamata gave birth to me using her Triple Power
(parthenogenesis) so that I would support her in her
misfortune. I reached adulthood within a few of our
weeks and was able to quickly fulfill the burden that
lay before me. It was around this same time that
Tiamata received information from Barbélú through
her mind. My progenitor followed the advice of our
Divine Mother, without suspecting the trap that was
set for her. Barbélú’s caressing voice suggested that he
take several shortcuts towards Urbar’ra. Unfortunately
for the Ušumgals, their fleet of scouts crashed into
ghost destinations no longer belonging to the world of
Barbélú’s thought. From then on, the Mother of the
Origins was damned by the Ušumgals and our queen
Tiamata relieved of her sovereign functions. At the
same time, our fleet experienced a major Kingú
mutiny in the heart of the royal ship. The children of
Ía’aldabaut took King Enzubi-Abba hostage and
claimed their rights to freedom. Recluse in her
apartments, Tiamata negotiated with the insurgents,
which made it possible to stop the bloodshed and save
her husband’s life. I was at the side of our sovereign
and I can guarantee that she did everything to preserve
the peace. The price to pay was no less painful: the
Kingú demanded to share royalty once the fleet
reached Urbar’ra. Mother could not refuse. From then
on, unknowingly ruled by the thought of Barbélú, she
led us all towards an unknown and impossible to undo
path, as if the past, the present and the future merged
into a single appearance that nothing could change.
Thanks to her negotiation, Tiamata naturally resumed
her place as sovereign with the Ušumgals. Yet no one
suspected that the thought of Barbélú unwittingly
simulated another space-time so that the inhabitants of
the kingdom of Narra could escape our reality and flee
the destruction to come. When our fleet arrived in the
kingdom of Narra, the Ušumgal forces set fire and
blood to what little life remained. Dazed, we
discovered the disappearance of Narra, of all its heart
as well as that of its inhabitants and its military forces.
Enzubi-Abba suspected a trick of Barbélú and decreed
the immediate creation of a race of dragons called
Mušgir, in charge of protecting the infrastructures and
the colony. The fear of the Mother of the Origins
aroused in the Ušumgal a limitless paranoia. Nothing
escaped the gaze of the Mušgir who, like fantastic
chimeras, pitilessly watched for the smallest details of
everyday life likely to contrast with everyday life by
their novelty. The Ušumgal and Kingú thus seized the
power of the kingdom of Nara and ruled Urbar’ra, but
in return they gradually lost their supremacy in the
face of the growing number of their protectors. The
 Mušgir gradually formed a majority and ambitious
strain that infiltrated this new expanding civilization.
Although the Ušumgal and the Kingú were the lords
and masters, they were in the minority. The Mušgir
were much more numerous and wanted to turn the
females into sexual objects at their behest. These
despicable creatures envied us for our physical
immortality and our divine powers. They resolved to
dominate us. The royal lineage then split into two
lines. Those who did not agree with this plan, those we
call the Kingú, abandoned us to our fate and left for
the Gina’abul colonies of Ušu (the constellation of
Draco, the Dragon) like the traitors they were. You
should know that your Kuku (ancestors) always
considered themselves to be the first-born among the
Gina’abul because they were physically larger than the
Kingú (royals). This had been a long-standing and
futile quarrel between the Kuku and the Kingú.
Everyone knew that the cradle of our race was in Ušu
and that the Ušumgal were created by the great Kingú,
the Kingú-Babbar (albino Kingú), in times so remote
that they were completely forgotten by the one-sided
memory of your Kuku (ancestors). Once the Kingú
(royals) were gone, the Ušumgal joined forces with the
Mušgir. Seeing that we were not cooperative, the
Ušumgal-Mušgir alliance concocted the plan of
fabricating female Alağní (clones), and so rob us of all
our powers. In order to absorb our sexual energy, the
Ušumgal resorted to cloning while the Mušgir created
centers of detention in which some of us were kept
prisoner. In these horrible places the male dragons
spent their time terrifying us, for they fed on our
emotions. They kept us in an emotionally charged state
in order to stimulate our vaginal secretions and our
menses, which they drank as often as they could. In
this way they tried to achieve immortality and obtain
all of our knowledge.
- What did the Sukkal do; were they for or against
you?
- At first they helped us, but then they retracted
themselves when we began to resort to violence! Since
the Sukkal were Kadištu (planners), they were unable
to take part in the conflict.
- Let’s go back to the Mušgir and the traitors from
Urbar’ra (the constellation Lyra); I don’t see how they
could have taken your Úzug away. If I’m not mistaken,
you are able to control your blood flow because you
can regulate your periods at will.
- That’s correct, Sa’am, but males are capable of the
most horrible things. You can get almost anything
from anyone by using torture. The Mušgir became
experts in the art of torture: they had no trouble
collecting our precious Úzug and sharing it with their
accomplices, the Ušumgal.
- I understand your apprehension, but look around
you. The Amašutum have protected themselves so
well that they have turned the Šutum into nothing but
docile Ádab (servants) who are completely devoted to
them.
- The Šutums have always appreciated our dogmas.
They were in perfect health before the epidemic struck
and some of them of them were even able to share
their lives with us, but not our secrets, of course. Since
I have known the pleasant life on Uraš (Earth) and in
the Ti-ama-te region (the Solar System), I can
understand your reaction. We went too far and many of
us regret it bitterly. We fought repression with
repression. By dint of fighting against the male
entities, we did not take sufficient distance and were
unable to see that we were turning into the image of
our loathsome enemies ourselves. This is probably one
of the reasons why your creator does not like us very
much. Just the same, I hope that what we have
undertaken together will permit us to deal with the
surviving Šutum on a new footing. But I beg of you,
please try to understand us. We must remain very
vigilant as far as the males are concerned.”
 I took her hand to comfort her.
“You mentioned something about vaginal secretions just
before; is that the same thing that you revealed to me during
our planning?
- Yes, it’s called Rasa. It’s an important secretion
because it facilitates sexual intercourse: you will
understand that better when you have a Ğèš (penis). I
know that this must seem very strange to you, because
you have not yet experienced all of our powers and
your quest for the Divine is not yet finished, but I
assure you: everything that I am telling you is the
exact truth. You should also know that during the
difficult Ud (days) when we were at war with the
Mušgir, we re-used many phonemes taken from Emešà
(the womb language). In fact, Emešà has existed for a
long time and was elaborated by us, but it was
neglected for some time after the language that you
use today was completely established. Since some
Amašutum were unable to communicate with
Kinsağ (telepathy) and the Ušumgal could detect our
thoughts anyway, Emešà permitted us to communicate
easily during the Great War. Emešà is a much richer
language than Emenita (the male language), for it has
many particles that may sound idiomatic to you. As a
matter of fact, Emenita was created primarily by using
particles taken from Emešà. It is thanks to the
syllabary of our mother tongue that Gina’abul dialects,
such as those of the Abgal and the Sukkal, could be
composed. Phonetic coding has always been a major
concern for us, for we were unable to use writing
during the war without taking the risk of leaving tell-
tale traces. During the war, the Grand Council
Amašutum decided to favor the codification by
phonetics in order to avoid any risk of leaving written
traces which would have betrayed us.
- So, if I understand you correctly, in addition to
Emešà (womb language) that no male has ever been
able to use, our common dialect, Emenita (the male
language) has a phonetic coding that you perfected
 while it was still being composed. For example, when
we use the word Úzug, we understand “the blood that
empties” but for you it also means “the furious
wisdom-plant or food-knowledge.” [48]
- Yes, exactly! It’s a simple mental exercise that you
will eventually get used to. All the same, in spite of
our vigilance, some words from Emešà did leak into
Emenita, but it wasn’t of much consequence.
Nevertheless, we don’t like taking risks and so we use
another word to refer to the menses, which is Raiaš.
As you were able to discover during your initiation,
many words are phonetically similar to terms in
common usage and can contribute important
information about the meaning hidden in certain words
and phrases. Fortunately, no male has ever been able to
discover this secret. Peš (spider) is one of the ancient
terms of our secret language; it also means uterus and
womb. Now that you know all of this, you’ll easily be
able to guess why this word also means the fruit that
you know.
- Because when you cut this fruit (fig) open, the
symmetrical halves look like the Ğála (vulva) of an
Amašutum.
- Exactly!
- By the way, I notice that the word ĞÁ-LA also has a
hidden meaning and must mean something like “that
which dispenses youth and health”.
- Very good, Sa’am! I’m impressed”.
In her eyes I could see her admiration and pride in me. I
recapitulated this essential information for myself. Peš could
mean something precious, the act of breathing deeply, a uterus,
a womb and, by way of the fig, a vulva…
 42. Symbol of the Tree or Light or Cosmic Tree among
the Iroquois. The sun is at the top, along with two branches
and the celestial vault. On closer inspection we can see that
this is the schematic representation of a woman, with the sun
as the head, the two branches as the arms and the celestial
vault as the skirt. Once again, it is clear that the symbolism
of the Cosmic Tree, or Tree of Life, merges with that of
Woman.
 “What is the relationship between sex and breathing?
- My dear Nun (prince), if you had listened and
participated in one of the Nungal workshops, you
would already know this secret today. Breathing is
everything. One of the practices for obtaining
knowledge involves the sexual technique of breathing
and pausing in order for the practitioners to open their
Šagra and synchronize them. The fact of taking one’s
time and breathing slowly opens the gates of
understanding, but these are not the only factors that
lead to bliss…”
Mam suddenly raised her eyebrows and added dryly:
“…the Nindiğir (priestess) who will give you the initiation
of the fire of Peš will reveal to you what I am not allowed to
teach you.
- Who is she?
- The most highly qualified among us, the Ninišib. She
is the one you talked with in the Kizàh.”
I saw her eyes suddenly scrutinize me. They reflected a
confused mixture of feelings. Her gaze seemed to say: “Have
you understood the true meaning of this word? Do you finally
realize the might of our powers?” At the same time they also
said: “I don’t want to leave you in the hands of that female.”
Mamítu was not just my companion, I felt more and more trust
in her. She who symbolized the Mother-Womb, the Great
Planner who brought order above and below, was my ideal
archetype at the time.
I had to deal with all of this information in parallel. The
word Ninišib, which we tended to translate as “the priestess of
the purifications,” had to conceal a sacred meaning. The
priestesses’ phonetic code was very clever indeed, but my
initiation and Mam’s revelations had given me the keys to
decipher the hidden meaning of the Amašutum vocabulary.
Decomposing Ninišib into NIN-IŠI-ÍB, and knowing that it
involved purification, I understood that this term also meant
something like “the queen of the stars with the purifying
sides.” Making good progress in my thoughts, I tried to
decipher this very intriguing word and understood it to mean
“the pleasant flow.” The other word that the priestesses used to
refer to their menses also made me curious. I decomposed it
into RA-I-AŠ, “the flow that sprouts in the spider[57].” Once
again, the theme of the spider had cropped up, and so I asked
Mam to enlighten me about this and reveal the relationship
that the Amašutum had with this creature. Her answer was
typically precise.
“ In fact, we have many things in common with the Aš
(spider). At the time of the Great War against the Mušgir
(dragons) and the Ušumgal traitors, we were forced to become
warriors in spite of ourselves to secure our freedom and
independence. As I said, the Mušgir took away not only our
dignity but also our harvests, because before they turned into
our enemy they were entitled to part of the harvest, which we
also shared with the Sukkal. The Amašutum have always been
great agriculturists. When we went to war against them, the
Mušgir were left to their own devices and their only solution
was to expropriate our plantations. The Aš (spider) is a
formidable warrior, like us. If you put one in a field, it will
attack its prey without quarter. The Aš also goes through
phases of Gibil’lásu (renewal of the skin) and withdraws in the
same way that we do when we slough. The Aš is autonomous
and can go for weeks without food, like the Amašutum.
Another thing that we have in common with the Aš is our
venom. Long ago, before the Mušgir existed, the first
Amašutum prototype secreted a highly toxic substance that
numbed the senses and caused illness. You have experienced
this venom yourself, since it was given to you in the Kizàh
(secret place). We analyzed all the components of this
substance and can synthesize it now very easily. This fluid was
produced and stored in a special pocket in the uterus of our
illustrious ancestors. In those days, the Amašutum didn’t bear
offsprings in the same way that we sometimes do today. If they
wanted to bear offspring naturally, they could create a
temporary intermediary womb.[58] The poisonous fluid gave
the female the option of killing her Nunus (egg) at any time
during its gestation, terminating the development of the
embryo as she saw fit. We females have always been immune
to this venom, but if it is introduced into the body of a male,
the toxins deteriorate chemicals in the nerve endings that
control the muscles. Unfortunately, during the Mušgir period,
most of us couldn’t secrete this fluid anymore. If that had been
the case, we wouldn’t have had to fight against the Mušgir,
because the males had never been able to distinguish between
our Rasa (vaginal secretion) and our venom.
- That means that this poison also came out of your
Ğála (vulva).
- Yes. You can see what a powerful weapon we had.
- And why don’t you secrete this venom anymore?
- Because, not long before the Mušgir were created,
we became part of the Confederation of Kadištu
(planners) through our Sukkal allies. As Diğir-
Kadištu, we were no longer allowed to produce this
poison. This weapon was considered a threat to others
and incompatible with the functions of a planner.
Starting then, the Amašutum were genetically deprived
of this capability during the cloning process. Those
who still had this ability lived together with their
newly-created sisters, but were not officially counted
among the Kadištu. Some of these females were able
to fool the Mušgir and eliminate some of them. In
retaliation, the Mušgir captured and branded them like
so much Amaš (cattle).
- What became of the Amašutum who still had the
fluid? Where are they today?”
Mam seemed embarrassed and lowered her eyes:
“They did not survive the world of Barbélú’s thought. All
were massacred during the Great War. Only a handful survived
the carnage, only those who remained faithful to the thought of
the Mother of the Origins.
- … and to her sadness, I continued. This world seems
to have sprung from Barbélú’s grief and anger. Who
are the survivors among us?
 - Tiamata is the only survivor.
- And yourself, since Tiamata gave you life during
these events.
- Indeed, but I do not have the sacred venom, nor the
mastery of Níama nor even communication through
thought. Mother Tiamata conceived me with Abgal
genes (amphibians), as an assistant, hence my first
name Nuréa (the assistant or maid of the water house).
After the hostilities, the few remaining survivors of the
former line were integrated into the Kadištu (planners)
by virtue of an exceptional decree. In Šitadalu, there
are still three Ereš (queen) who participated in a
number of planning projects with the Kadištu. I have
already worked with them several times, for they have
good relations with Gagsisá (Sirius), which is where I
come from.
- Šitadalu? I asked, puzzled.
- It’s called Sipazianna (Orion) in common parlance.
From now on, I will occasionally have to use words in
Emešà (womb language). You’ll just have to get used
to it.”
I knew about Sipazianna (Orion) only from hearsay. It is
a region of the heavens with many Gina’abul colonies. The
males of Sipazianna enjoy much more freedom than we do.
The female Gina’abul there had relations with humanoids
derived from the Urmah felides and created a new race of
hybrids. As far as I know, the beings of Sipazianna do not
clone as we do, but reproduce by means of sexual intercourse.
This is the part of the universe where the Urmah felides, the
famous warriors of the Kadištu (planners), made their home.
“Do you know why the Urmah are in this part of the
Universe? I asked the great Nammu.
- As you know, the Mušidim caused interstellar
collapses in the heart of the Sipazianna nebula, in the
shadowy area called Ga’anzír. Their numerous
journeys, through the irradiated temporal distortions of
the Shadow Ga’anzír (Orion nebula), seriously
 deteriorated their physiognomy by inflicting them
irreversible mutations. They thus became their own
enemies in the future: the Kingalàm. We know this
instability, the signature of which is found all the way
to the galactic nucleus. The Urmahs reside in
Sipazianna to control this region and prevent it from
any risk of malicious intent. This celestial area remains
fragile today and must be restored.”
Just then, I noticed that we had arrived in the Abzu
(subterranean world). Soon, our Gigirlah (sparkling wheel)
was landing on the main square of Šàlam. On the surround-
screen I could see that a very large spacecraft stood parked not
far from the palace. “What a coincidence! That’s Tiamata’s
Gigirlah”, Mam exclaimed. I had recognized it, too, but hoped
I was mistaken. I had not seen our queen since Abzu-Abba’s
death, and more importantly, since the revelations that I had
made to my companion. Mamítu smiled at me, took me by the
hand and led me to Tiamata’s spacecraft.
The great square was full of male and female Gina’abul
who all seemed to be in the best of spirits. The city was
swarming with activity and I had the impression that there
were more priestesses around than usual. More and more
exclamations could be heard. Those who met us along our way
greeted us with a bow. Peace had indeed returned to the Abzu
and this gave me the courage to face our queen. We quickly
climbed the boarding ramp to the royal Gigirlah. Mam
embraced the crowd with a broad gesture in an attempt to
respond to the agitation of the people. Then we ducked into
the spaceship. We passed several priestesses in the corridor
that led to the royal cabin. I realized that I was seeing them
now with different eyes: their unsettling secret had changed
my life.
The room was bathed in a strong golden, almost blinding
light. I hardly had the time to see Tiamata majestically poised
on her throne before kneeling down and touching my forehead
to the highly polished floor. Our queen’s voice filled the room.
“Spare me the unnecessary ceremony, my son.” told me
Tiamata.
 I raised my head and faced her, who was flanked by two
priestesses with wry smiles and garbed in long linen dresses
dyed the color of blood. Our queen was clothed in a
shimmering silk robe and wore a diadem and a pectoral
adorned with jasper. The light was so bright that our pupils
had shrunk to vertical lines. Tiamata deliberately addressed me
in a dry tone of voice to make me feel even more ill at ease:
“Our allies of the Confederation of Kadištu (planners) are
very concerned about the unexpected change in the course of
our destiny. The list keeps growing: a strange epidemic
striking our male population, a sudden need to clone soldiers
to replace them, the massive extermination of sick males, the
elimination of our Barag (king), his assassin becoming the
lover of the most illustrious of my Dumumí (daughters) and
successfully passing an initiation reputed to be practically
impossible, which now makes him our greatest ally or our
worst enemy! There has been practically nothing but changes
since your first appearance, Sa’am! …and the Amašutum are
hardly fond of changes. Whose side are you on, young Nun
(prince)?
- I thought I had already expressed myself on this
matter…
- Not to me, Alağní (clone). I await your answer.”
I hesitated briefly, choosing my words:
“My arrival among the Gina’abul was intended to fool
you, I was created in order to betray our race. Fortunately,
Mamítu is…
- We know all that, Alağní. That’s not what I want to
talk about. Just answer my question.
- Yes, I am on your side.
- Good! From now on I will no longer call your word
into question, my child. On the other hand, I would ask
you to prove your loyalty by immediately unlocking
your Šagra. Mine are open and you are free to look
into them, if you wish. I have nothing to hide from
you.”
 I nodded and agreed to this difficult condition. Of course,
I had nothing more to hide, but this exercise was worse than
standing naked in front of a female. When you possess the
Níama (vital force), its great potential creates a second nature,
as it were; it permits you to hide your true character, while
enabling you to slip into the minds of others. I obeyed, but, out
of respect for our queen, declined to probe into her mind.
Tiamata sensed this immediately and responded in kind. Not
wanting to lose face, I immediately took the initiative of
speaking:
“Ereš (queen), if I may be so bold, the list of events that
you just mentioned is incomplete. You forgot to say that, in
revealing my duplicity, I also betrayed my creator, that I am
trying to produce as many Nungal as possible for the sake of
your security, that I have brought peace back to the Abzu and
attended to the Šutum that are still in good condition.”.
Tiamata forced a smile, but maintained her imperious pose:
“Don’t forget, if you are still alive today, it is precisely
because of your deeds! Luckily for you, your deception was
short-lived, but from now on you will have to work together
with us. I would ask you to give your creator and his Anunna
the same balance that you brought to our people. Mamítu-
Nammu and you will prepare a Didabbasar (code of laws) that
you will take to the Dukù. This Didabbasar will force An to
respect all the Gina’abul in Margíd’da (Ursa Major).
- An is as free as a bird. He is creating an army that
will be ready for anything; nothing will oblige him to
respect these laws.
- Don’t let yourself be fooled, Sa’am. He will have no
other choice than to respect them. I have asked all of
my Dumumí (daughters) to leave the Ubšu’ukkinna
(solar system in the Pleiades, home of the planet
Dukù). Many have joined us already, and more are on
their way at this very moment. Without us and our
knowledge, An is nothing and will not be able to
provide for the needs of the Anunna. As it is, he can
feed them only for a few more Ud (days) at the most.
He will not be able to clothe them, nor give them our
 technology. Your creator is alone, very much alone!
Furthermore, ever since your revelations, our allies
have been conducting strict aerial surveillance around
the planet Dukù. To give An a Didabbasar (code of
laws) means to guarantee peace and trap your creator,
for you know that An is not allowed to circumvent our
sacred texts.
- What would keep him from creating female Alağní
(clones) out of the many cells that he took with him?”
Tiamata now seemed amused:
“You’re very clever, Sa’am, but I must point out that your
creator programmed you with great care. You are still lacking
some elements concerning us. An cannot produce Amašutum
because this is forbidden by our laws.
- I still don’t understand why an Ušumgal would not
be able to break these laws!
- All the Ušumgal are made in this way. It is a subtle
programming that is rooted deep inside us. I myself
am no exception to this rule. Many Muanna (years)
ago, An suggested that we correct certain aspects of
our laws, under the pretext of protecting us from our
Alağní (clones), and we adopted his proposal.
However, at the time that he introduced these
amendments, he made no changes in the laws
concerning the creation of the Amašutum. Your
misogynous creator had no inkling at the time that he
might one day need to create females.
- Well, if he cannot do it, then Ninmah will do it in his
place. He will force her to do it.”
A heavy silence suddenly fell over the room. Tiamata
seemed exasperated: “That’s impossible, she will never agree!
Not only that, but in order to create female Alağní she would
need an Inim (agreement), an official permission from me, just
as you and An needed one to create the Nungal and the
Anunna. According to our dogmas, only Nammu has the
unrestricted right to produce Nindiğir (celestial priestesses).
Apart from her and myself, no other female may clone an
Amašutum without prior authorization. The laws concerning
the production of females are much stricter than those
concerning males and other species. As you now know, the
Nindiğir have formidable powers and these powers imply
considerable obligations.”.
Not very convinced, yet I did not insist on this point.
Tiamata asked me with the thought to pull myself aside so that
she could converse with her daughter. I did so with the firm
intention of capturing the discussion. I did my best to read his
lips. Our queen stared at her daughter and whispered to her:
“How is the Primordial Matrix doing?
- All is well mother, she greets you. I do my best to
free her up the time she claims daily.
- Never lose sight of her…”
Nammu nodded. Tiamata glanced in my direction and
called out to me from afar:
“One more thing. I heard that while you were away there
was an incident involving Nungal issued from a cloning
session. Sa’am, you are to go to Unulahgal as soon as possible.
Examine the specimens and take the necessary measures. You
have been expected there for several Ud (days). Then prepare
the Didabbasar (code of laws) and deliver it as soon as
possible to the planet Dukù. I am counting on you, my
children, the fate of the Gina’abul lies in your hands.
- Mam and I will do everything in our power to
preserve the peace of our people, I replied.”
Tiamata frowned and made a slight grimace. Our queen
stared at my Úgunu (mistress) in dismay: “You hallow him
such familiarity, my dear Dumumí (daughter)?” Mam
shrugged her shoulders in reply and flashed one of her special
smiles. Discouraged, Tiamata did her best to smile back: “Out
of my sight! she finally mumbled”. We made our bows to the
queen and rapidly left the royal Gigirlah, doing our best not to
burst out laughing. Once outside, we realized that this was the
first time in our lives that we had ever laughed together. In
those troubled times, we had not had the chance to do so until
then. What a wonderful moment it was!
 An Embarrassing “Mixed-Breed”
“My son, how will you be able to see his intentions or his
ominous plan for the soul?
For his ploys are many, as are the means of his
malignancy.
Beware of his entrances, that is, of the manner in which
he will try to introduce himself into your soul and of what
he wears
when he enters your dwelling…
Do not make friends with just anyone,
for all of these people came into the world through
duplicity…
There are no loyal friends, not even a brother,
for each seeks only his own profit…”
Scroll from Nag-Hammadi, “The Teachings of
Sylvanus,”
Codex 7, 96,11 - 96,19 / 97,31 - 97,34 / 98,3 - 98,4(12)

▼
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-Ussu
Mam wanted to accompany me to Unulahgal. She was
afraid that I would not be sufficiently well-known on the
surface of our planet to be able to accomplish my mission
among the priestesses. We walked to the landing area where
all the aircraft of the capital of the Abzu (subterranean world)
were parked and selected a recent model. In no time were back
on the surface.
When we reached our destination, the last rays of the
sun were casting their warm light on the walls of the royal city,
making way for a short and windy night. Unulahgal, the royal
city, the jewel of our planet, sparkled with its myriad lights.
The colorful flags waving above the city gates were decorated
with the symbol of the two intertwined Muš (serpents) and lit
from below by spotlights. Mamítu pointed out the city’s two
Unir (pyramids), telling me that that was where the secret
religious ceremonies were celebrated. I noticed that she
accentuated the “u” in the word for the pyramids when she
pronounced it. This meant that she was probably using the
phonetic coding of the priestesses again. I interpreted the
second meaning as “the flash that culminates[59]“. The colossal
stepped Unir (pyramids) stood out prominently above the
skyline of the metropolis thanks to an ingenious lighting
system that illuminated the levels separately. At the top of the
tallest of the two Unir burned a great fire that pulsed
irregularly and cast its light toward the empty horizon.
 43. Unulahgal, royal city of Amašutum with its two Unir
“bursts that culminate.”
 My companion and I took the main boulevard that
connected the various landing platforms. We walked along
water basins that gave off pleasant fragrances and that were
ringed with palm trees, making our way toward the improvised
lodgings of the Nungal. Mam had already made several trips to
Unulahgal in order to help accommodate the males in the old
quarter of the city. She told me that the priestesses had gone to
a lot of trouble to renovate the area, which had been as good as
abandoned until then. They had done a remarkable job. The
males now resided in stately buildings that would have been
worthy of a great monarch. We had already come a long way
from the autocratic regime under which the poor Šutum had
lived. I was proud of Nammu, for I know that she had played a
major role in bringing about these important changes.
An Amašutum armed with a lance stood guard at the
entrance to the quarters of the Nungal. Surprisingly enough,
she wore a dress made of extremely fine linen that was tied at
the waist. She seemed to bathe in a cloud of perfume, and her
eyes were so heavily made up in blue and lined with kohl that
it was difficult to make out her gaze. The priestess was clearly
surprised to see a male and female strolling together at such a
late hour. I asked Mam if this posed a problem, and she replied
that the regulations pertaining to the evening hours were fairly
strict so as to avoid problems. The planner of Uraš (Earth)
reminded me that, for reasons she had already explained, the
Amašutum were still wary as far as males were concerned.
When we came up to the sentinel priestess, I took a long look
at her heavily made-up face and told Mam: “Time will
gradually work things out, the Amašutum will learn how to
open their hearts and trust the Nungal.”.
Seeing us more closely, the priestess lowered her eyes.
She had just realized who we were. Mam talked with her in
Emešà (womb language). Embarrassed, the sentinel stuttered
her apologies, made a courteous bow and then led us to the
building in which the defective Nungal were kept. First we
passed some houses with gardens, then walked through a long
passageway elaborately decorated with ceramic bas-reliefs
representing various Gina’abul, and finally arrived at a small
palace with freshly whitewashed walls. The priestess pointed
to the door and wished us a pleasant stay in Unulahgal. Before
she left, I asked her coolly if she was afraid of the males.
Embarrassed, the priestess cast a blank look at Mam, who
hastened to inform her that I knew their secret. Both disturbed
and reassured, she replied vehemently:
“Yes, like all the priestesses. The impulses of the males
torment us sometimes.
- If you are so apprehensive about the desires that the
males might cause, then I wonder why you are so
attached to a particular Nungal with whom you
secretly spend some of your evenings?”
The priestess was suddenly crestfallen. I was not about to
tell to her that I had found this out by reading her mind, but
offered an explanation based on plain logic: “The duties of a
sentinel do not call for the light clothing that you are wearing.
At first glance, your conspicuous make-up could be explained
by the propensity of your kind to outdo each other in being
different, but that’s not the case with you. You are so exhausted
by your nocturnal escapades that you try to mask the fatigue
with heavy make-up. Moreover, your sensual perfume is less
what one would expect of a guard than of a priestess who has
been led astray by the very masculine impulses that you just
mentioned…”. The unfortunate creature threw herself at
Mam’s feet and begged for mercy. My companion replied that
the decision lay not in her hands but in mine. The guardian
walked to me on her knees and implored me as best she could:
“He is not like the others… he is graceful, not as charming
as you, Am (lord), but also subtle, he shares that with you, he
is different in the same way you are… she cried out.
- No need to flatter me. Please don’t worry, I told her.”
I helped her to her feet and replied that nothing would
happen to her. As soon as I let her go, she turned and fled.
“Incredible, I shouted. She didn’t even thank me. I can’t
believe it, she must be punished!
- It’s nothing serious, Mam replied. We cannot help
them from fraternizing and liking each other. We’ll
 just have to be more careful with our Nungal.”
We resumed our walk and went through the triangular
door of the small palace with the white walls. I thought again
about what the poor priestess had said and remarked to Mam:
“It’s amazing how the feelings of this female affected her
words.
- Namkiágna (love) does that sometimes, Mam
replied, smiling.”.
My companion appeared to hesitate, then added:
“Namkiágna is very powerful and can make people do
unreasonable, even crazy things. You know, I would never have
abandoned you during your trial by the fire of the Aš. If the
initiation had gone awry, I would have given you my own
blood, my Úzug (menstrual blood) to heal you, whether the
assembly approved or not.”. I looked at her intently.
“Even if you had been reprimanded by the council of the
Amašutum?
- Yes, without hesitating an instant, she replied, What
would they have done to me, anyway? They would
have sent me back to Uraš (the Earth)… Nobody
wants to go there, this place scares them because of the
mystery that surrounds it …”.
I took her hand, and she seemed very pleased by this. The
wonderful thing about being with Mam was that each day was
a feast of learning. We ran across two more priestesses in the
palace courtyard. One of them was making trips between the
palace and a parked Gigirlah (sparkling wheel). At the foot of
the craft I saw six glass blocks filled with a greenish substance
in which bodies were immersed. This strange sight reminded
me of the first minutes after my creation: these clones had just
been terminated with a Zirzi (destroyer of life). I introduced
myself to the priestesses as the king of the Abzu and asked
them to tell us the identity of these individuals. Before they
were able to answer, I noticed that the corpses were all male
and had a slightly different physiognomy than the Nungal. In
fact, the six creatures all had the same face!
 A shudder went up my spine. These Alağní (clones)
could only have come from one source; namely a production
line of seven specimens in which I had experimented with
another type of Nungal with modified characters and physical
features. I had prepared them with genetic material isolated
from various cells, reprogramming and recombining them in
order to create a new type of Alağní. It was a technical feat
and I had not expected such good results. In other words, the
seven Alağní (clones) were not composed of the same genetic
material from one or two parents, but from several different
sources. More exactly, some of the genes came from me and
some from Gina’abul material that Mam had in her possession
and that she was kind enough to give me. I had also added
genetic material from Nammu herself and from another first-
generation prototype that had been designed by Abzu-Abba.
The whole was further combined with ancestral Gina’abul
genes taken from the archives of our genetic heritage. All in
all, these specimens had about a tenth part of me and of Mam.
In that sense they were like our biological children.
 44. Enimin’s creation, the seventh Nungal copy with a
modified character.
 When I had followed the priestesses to the place of
initiation in the desert, I thought that I would be away only for
a few Danna (hours), not seven whole days! The trial by the
fire of the Aš had brought me knowledge, but also my first
mistakes in cloning. The priestess confirmed this:
“These are defective Nungal from the tail end of a
production series. They were very good elements, but we lost
control of them several Ud (days) ago.
- That’s why were are here, Mam replied. Why were
they eliminated without our permission?
- We were informed of your coming by our Erešgal
(great queen), but didn’t know when you would arrive.
It became urgent to eliminate them.
- What symptoms did they have, I asked?
- They were extremely smart, undisciplined and some
could not distinguish between the act of planning and
slighting a Nindiğir (priestess).
- What do you mean with “slighting”?
- What I want to say, Am (lord), is that two of our
Nungal who otherwise seemed to be brilliant were not
Kadištu (planners) but only rapists!
- They were too different from the other Nungal, the
second priestess added. They reacted like mixed-
breed, hybrids made of heterogeneous genetic
material. This is hard to imagine because no one has
ever been able to keep this kind of Alağní (clones)
alive for more than a few Danna. At any rate, we did
not want to take any chances.”.
I looked closely at Mam, who did not notice my
embarrassment for the simple reason that I had not mentioned
anything about my research on a new type of planner. She had
only provided me with some of the genetic material that I had
needed: “How many were they? I asked.”. They looked at me,
astonished: “Definitely six, as you can see…”. That was
impossible, I thought, because I had always produced them in
series of seven. I asked Mam to stay there and wait until I
came back.
I jumped into the Zumá, which it was the same
Amašutum model already used in my first venue in Unulahgal.
The metallic cobra slowly rose above the entrance to the
Nungal Quarters. A brief glance at the ground told me that the
sentinel was no longer at her post. I brushed the control
console. The craft rose higher and glided over the center of the
city. From high above, the lights of the capital shone in the
night like tiny lanterns.
What I had found out in probing the sentinel’s mind was
that the lovers always met secretly in a place where there were
many plaques made of kùsig (gold). Consequently, I set course
for the main library, which was easy to find with its high
dome. As I flew back down, the brightness of the craft
gradually diminished and I landed quietly near the building. I
ran up the library steps two by two and made my way into the
entrance hall.
A heavy silence hung over the dark interior. I headed for
the middle hallway paved with green and blue tiles, walked
past walls faced with alabaster plaques carved with stylized
trees and flowers, then took the main stairs up to the first floor.
At the top of the stairs stood two monumental statues
representing Amašutum. The floor was covered with rugs
decorated with geometric patterns. I looked all around, sliding
myself between the marble colonnades and the wall on which
kùsig (gold) plaques had been mounted. Finally I heard a low
voice talking in my direction, but coming from the other side
of the hall. I took a detour and hid behind one of the marble
columns.
 45. Sa’am, in the Great Library of Unulahgal, looking
for his “faulty” clone.
 The priestess that I was looking for was lying down on
one of the benches inlaid with colored stones. Her skirt was
hiked up to the waist and she seemed to be caught in a brutal,
rhythmic embrace by a male who was completely naked and
had his back turned to me. The two creatures were in the
throes of strange emotions that I had no way of interpreting.
The female seemed to be in violent pain and began groaning
sporadically, but this did nothing to keep the Nungal from
indulging in his frenzied lust. Suddenly I saw the auras of their
bodies expand and change from a bluish to a rosy color. The
male seemed to be intoxicated with his barbaric thrusts. He
tightened the embrace with renewed ardor, heightening the
intensity of this singular act. The priestess seemed to want to
say something, her mouth horribly distorted with pain, but no
words came out.
I was completely dismayed, but had no choice than to
accept what I was seeing. I was no expert in the matter, but on
the basis of what Mam had taught me about the techniques of
the sacred art, I was able to conclude that these beings were
not practicing the act of planning. This reminded me of the
words of my Šan (mistress), of Namkiágna (love) and the
lowly act of merging sexual organs for the sake of pleasure.
Yet there were four details that made me doubt that this was
the case. For one thing, the priestess was not leading the act,
and this was inconceivable for an Amašutum. For another,
there were no tender gestures accompanying the embrace.
Then the two creatures were not breathing properly, which
would keep them from opening fully and gaining knowledge
of each other. Last and not least, the female was apparently in
great torment, and this was the worst thing imaginable for a
priestess! The only possible conclusion was that the male was
slighting the Amašutum. I was witnessing a rape!
With hindsight, my conclusion might appear
ridiculous, I agree, but I had no knowledge at the time of the
sexual practices used on Uraš (Earth) by the Ukubi’im (Homo
neanderthalensis). I could refer only to what I knew and had
experienced myself. The priestesses had transmitted much
information about their rituals and religion, but practically
nothing had been revealed to me on the topic of sex for the
simple reason that I had no sexual organ of my own!
I decided to intervene by taking advantage of the
element of surprise. Thanks to my powers, I climbed two
Gi[60] (6 meters) on one of the marble columns and took a
position above and facing them. Then I let my voice
reverberate through the library: “I did not know that there
were evening courses in Unulahgal. The most disturbing thing
is to catch a male in a sacred place where only the Nindiğir
have right of access.”. The two creatures immediately started.
I was amazed to see that the Amašutum was not in the least
relieved to be freed from the male’s embrace. “You have no
business being in this place”, the male replied in a firm tone of
voice. I examined his face. I was right: he had the same facial
features as the six other Alağní (clones) that had been
terminated with the Zirzi (destroyers of life). He seemed very
sure of himself and turned to face me, his Ğèš (penis) still
erect. The priestess recognized me and shuddered with
apprehension: “That’s the lord of the Abzu (subterranean
world)! It’s the new Barag (ruler)”, she shouted. I made a leap
forward and approached them, keeping my eye on the male:
“I find you rather arrogant, Alağní. I go where I please.
You owe me respect and obedience, I am not only your Barag
but also your creator. What am I going to do with the two of
you?
- I demand to be judged by the council of the
Amašutum, the priestess replied.”
These words disturbed me, for they confirmed the fact
that the female had not been slighted and that she had been a
consenting partner. These two beings knew a lot more about
what they had been doing than I did. I scanned the mind of the
female and found nothing particular, only her embarrassment
at having been caught red-handed. The Amašutum are
doubtless very experienced in the “art of thinking about
nothing.”
“Do not be afraid, Nindiğir (priestess), Tiamata and
Mamítu-Nammu will be very interested in meeting you. As for
you, Alağní (clone), you must come with me without giving
me any resistance.”
The Nungal’s face was tinged with fear. He shoved me
violently against the balustrade, then ran as fast as he could to
the main staircase at the end of the hall. I jumped over the
balustrade into empty space and caught my footing five Gi
(fifty feet) below. The fugitive was very surprised to see me on
the ground floor already and did an about face, but I paralyzed
him mentally and held him face down on the floor: “You won’t
be able to run forever, I told him firmly, You are no match for
my powers!”.
The male prototype resisted with all his might, but the
invisible force of the Níama kept him pinned to the floor like a
steel vise. I told him to remain calm and scanned his tortured
mind, which is how I finally discovered his story. He had been
on the run for almost six days. It had all begun when he
emerged from the Siensišár (artificial womb) in which he had
been created. He was part of a finishing production series, and
so at the far end of the last row of Siensišár. When he came
out, no one was there to receive him and his twin brothers.
Acting on his instinct for survival, the Alağní managed to tip
his Siensišár, making some of the other matrices topple in the
process. He took advantage of the ensuing confusion to
escape. Then he hid for several Danna (hours) in the
ventilation ducts before venturing outside at night. He found
his way into a Mága’an cargo vessel and stowed away on the
trip from Ankida to Unulahgal. Upon his arrival in the sacred
city, he was secretly taken in by a priestess-guard who was
only too happy to find a male to take care of and have all to
herself.
The power of the Níama finally calmed the fugitive
down. He submitted and became docile, doing his best to
express repentance. For some reason, his attitude reminded me
of Ninmah. This creature seemed very dangerous indeed. I
made him stand up and we returned to the next floor to get the
priestess before leaving the library. Outside, the white walls of
Unulahgal were gradually catching the first rays of the sun,
bringing relief from the coolness of the night. The trip back in
the Gigirlah was uneventful, until we reached the palace
courtyard where I had left Mam. I explained the whole story as
briefly as I could and delivered the guard into the custody of
the priestesses.
Mam, the Nungal and I then took a Gigirlah to return to
our quarters in Šàlam, the capital of the subterranean world.
As soon as we had arrived in our apartment, I asked my
companion what we should do with this individual. Her
answer was fair and wise, as usual: “That’s your responsibility,
my child. The being that you created belongs to you, and so it
is up to you to decide whether he will live or die”. She also
pointed out that he was what was called a mixed-breed and
that we knew nothing about this kind of Alağní (clone). “This
Alağní could be dangerous.” she conceded.
◆◆◆

I took the male specimen to my laboratory with the

intention of examining him. A greenish crystal on the ceiling
filled the room with a diffuse light. I made the Nungal sit on a
special chair that restrained his wrists and ankles. He was
uneasy, twisting and writhing like a creature that knows that its
life is in the balance. I adopted a neutral attitude to mask my
own state of mind. I observed him carefully and scanned his
disturbed thoughts. He was haunted by one particular thing:
his unwholesome origins, the horrible paradox of knowing that
he was an Alağní designed to serve a race that sacrificed the
freedom of its own kind and turned them into slavish puppets.
I decided to terminate him and activated the Zirzi
(destroyers of life). Before proceeding with the execution, I
stared at him for a long while, thinking: “Talk to me, it’s now
or never”. His blood froze at the sight of the deadly
instrument and he was overwhelmed by panic. : “Before I
disappear, O creator, you must know that my registry number
is Enimin (“the lord seven”)”, he said, his voice trembling
with fear.
In this bold manner, the Alağní was telling me that he
was the seventh specimen in my production series of modified
Nungal; in other words, the person responsible for his
condition was none other than myself. I was impressed by this
unexpected display of lucidity and honesty. I put myself in his
place and thought back on that fateful moment when my
creator had wanted to eliminate me because I did not
correspond exactly to his specifications. I was genuinely
moved by Enimin. He had as much a right to live as I did. He
was in good health and very much alert as well. I decided to
spare his life, thinking that he would surely become an
excellent subject and servant when he was properly educated.
This creature was not like the others at all. In a way, I was
rather proud of this creation of mine.
 The Establishment of the
Mardukù and the Fifty ME
“May he be our sole God.
Let us therefore spell his fifty names in testimony to the
glory
of his person and of his works.”
Enûma Eliš, Babylonian Creation Epos, 120-122(2)

Ж
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-
Ilimmu
After this incident, Mam and I took the time to
concentrate on writing the Didabbasar (code of laws) intended
for An and the Anunna on the planet Dukù. It was a delicate
task because we had no precise idea as to what the Anunna
really were. This consideration made the rounds of the various
Amašutum factions.
Since I had been created as a prototype of the Anunna, the
Amašutum had a lot of questions about my deeper nature.
Some of the priestesses were of the opinion that I should be
examined scientifically. Mam, who did not want to see me
turned into a laboratory animal, appealed to Tiamata to forbid
any analyses of my person. The queen reminded the
priestesses that it made no sense to consider me as a true
Anunna, since An had created me as a unique specimen to
convince the council of the Ušumgal to let him create the
Anunna lineage.
We interrogated the priestesses who had been in the solar
system of Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia in the Pleiades), and
especially on the planet Dukù, when the male soldiers were
created, but they were unable to give precise information,
since none of them had ever seen the males close up. In light
of these circumstances, we decided to build some airtight
clauses into the text of the code in order to contain the danger.
 Mam and I subdivided the Didabbasar into fifty
clauses, as so many decrees that would have the force of law.
Writing the Didabbasar was not a very fastidious task in itself,
but what became problematic and hampered progress—and
especially our departure for Mulmul (the Pleiades)—were the
constant revisions and amendments of the text made by the
different Amašutum factions. Decrees 32, 42, 43 and 45 had to
be revised several times. These were important decrees, their
purpose being to ensure that we had complete power over the
Anunna. The 32nd decree gave the Amašutum the capability
of regulating the economic and political life of the Anunna.
The 42nd and 43rd decrees gave An and Anšár the same status
as the Anunna-clones and engaged them to strict observance of
this code of laws, to which we gave the general title of
Mardukù. The final part of the 43rd decree and the entire 44th
decree described the punishments that would be incurred by
the Anunna and their leaders if they failed to respect the
Mardukù to the letter. With this most sovereign of instruments,
the female Gina’abul were not about to take any unnecessary
risks.
Mam herself was of the opinion that the decrees were
overdone, but the league of the various Amašutum factions
approved the code of laws and precluded any further recourse.
We were all tired of the endless debates, and the members of
the council of the Amašutum of Nalulkára breathed a sigh of
relief when we finally made ready to leave for the solar system
of Ubšu’ukkinna in Mulmul (the Pleiades). Permit me to cite
from memory some passages from the Mardukù, or at least the
most important ones that were incorporated into the final
version:
- 1 - As Didabbasar introduced into the solar system
we call Ubšu’ukkinna (“the powerful part of the
universe, station of the assembly”) and more exactly
the planet called Dukù—sacred home of Anšár and his
son An, creator of the Anunna—the laws that compose
the present commandments will be referred to by the
name of Mardukù (“That which is disseminated and
applied on Dukù”) [61]—ME 1/1.
- 2 - As divine commandment intended for the Anunna
of the solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna in the
constellation Mulmul (the Pleiades), the Mardukù is to
be considered as a Marutu (“the sun God who contains
[the laws]“), this is the name of this 2nd decree—ME
2/1.
- 3- Let it be established that the Mardukù be an
Amaruk’ka (“child of light with proclamation“). May
the directives of the Mardukù apply to all of the
Anunna residing in Mulmul. May it also apply to the
Nungal who will dwell on the twelve planets that
comprise the solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna—mME
3/2.
- 5 - By its effect on the children of the Lugal (lords),
the Mardukù is the sole and unique decree to be
respected, it is an Amaršàkúšu (“a child womb that is
watchful“)—ME 5/2.
- 6- The Mardukù has no equal in the universe of the
male Gina’abul. As such, the Anunna are to observe
and respect it, for it was created for them alone by the
People of the Ancient Serpent, the creators of many
worlds. For this reason it will also be known as
Lugaldímmér-ankia (“the coiled master serpent,[62]
shaper of the heavens and the earths“)—ME 6/2.
- 11- The People of the Ancient Serpent, being at the
same time masters of agriculture and makers of grain,
are obliged to produce and oversee the food of the
Annuna on the planet Dukù. By virtue of this eleventh
decree and the close ties between the People of the
Ancient Serpent and the Anunna, the Mardukù will
also be called Asari (“the powerful that
accomplishes“)—ME 11/3.
- 15- In accordance with the 2nd decree, the People of
the Ancient Serpent are obliged to bring their support
to all of the Anunna who will dwell on the twelve
planets of the Ubšu’ukkinna, as well as throughout the
Mulmul (the Pleiades). By virtue of this 15th decree,
the Amašutum accept responsibility, under oath, of all
 the male Gina’abul of the Ubšu’ukkinna. For this
reason, the Mardukù will also be called Tutuziukkinna
(“the evocation of life for the station of the Assembly“)
—ME 15/3.
- 21- By virtue of this decree and in the name of our
illustrious Ereš (queen) Tiamata, The Amašutum will
provide the Anunna with strategic and psychological
support in case of major conflicts with foreign forces
hostile to the sacred race of the Gina’abul. Thus the
Mardukù is also called Šàzusuhrìm (“heart of wisdom
against the carefully determined enemy“)—ME 21/2.
- 23- As Diğir-Kadištu, the People of the Ancient
Serpent are forbidden to provide the Anunna with
military support. However, in case of a total war, the
Amašutum have the right to resort to force in order to
protect themselves and defend all the Gina’abul
against any unwarranted incursions. For this reason,
the Mardukù is also called Šazuzáhrìm (“heart of
wisdom against the adversary and the fugitive“)—ME
23/3.
- 25- That by this decree, the Mardukù bear witness to
the institutions which the Amašutum will transmit to
the Anunna. The People of the Ancient Serpent have
the duty to educate the Anunna and provide them with
the provisions of food that they will need. By virtue of
this, the Mardukù is called Enbilulu (“he of time who
multiplies opulence“)—ME 25/3.
- 26- In accordance with the preceding decree, the
Amašutum will provide the Anunna with the
knowledge of the control of irrigation. Thus the
Mardukù is also known by the name of Enbilulu-e-
padun (“he of time who multiplies opulence and digs
irrigation ditches and canals“)— ME 26/1.
- 28- The proud People of the Ancient Serpent
possesses the knowledge of the absolute control of
water and its energy[63]. They preserve the right to
keep this knowledge secret, but promise the Anunna
that they will never lack in water, the source of life.
 Thus the Mardukù will be known by the name of
Enbilulu-hégal (“he of time who multiplies opulence
and the abundance of beings“)—ME 28/1.
- 31- Life is a continuous cycle, in the image of the
universe. The People of the Ancient Serpent symbolize
the delicate balance of life of which it possesses all the
secrets. It possesses the understanding of the
evolutionary process of the four fundamental
principles. May the Anunna be assured of benefiting
from the knowledge of the Amašutum if they respect
the four principles that compose this world; namely,
the mineral, the plant, the animal and the divine. Only
under these conditions will the People of the Ancient
Serpent provide the Anunna with the food that they
will need. They will deliver grain, fill the granaries
and drive the wagon and the Ádam[64] (the animals)
with respect. By virtue of this decree, Gilim is its
name (“he who curls and winds around himself”)—
ME 31/4.
- 32- In order to bring the Anunna all the raw
materials that will permit them to sustain themselves,
the People of the Ancient Serpent and its leaders have
the right to regulate the economic life of the Anunna,
as well as the commerce and trade that they may
undertake among themselves and the other nations of
the Confederation. The Amašutum and their delegates
have the right to exercise unrestricted judicial power in
order to solve any problem among the male Gina’abul
or with other nations. Gilim’ma (“he who winds
around himself and establishes“) is the name of this
decree, for it consolidates the mutual relations between
the Anunna—ME 32/5.
- 33- According to decrees 6, 26 and 28, the People of
the Ancient Serpent controls the mastery of water, the
atmosphere and the temperature, science preserved by
our ancestors, the Dark Matriarchs. In this capacity,
they will control the climate on Dukù and therefore see
to the proper functioning of the four fundamental
principles mentioned above and the four fundamental
 elements that compose the life cycle. Agilim’ma (“the
source that winds around itself and establishes“) is the
name of this 33rd decree of the Mardukù—ME 33/3.
- 34- In accordance with decrees 15 and 25, the People
of the Ancient Serpent will assign different lands and
rations to each Anunna. Zulum (“wisdom and
abundance“) is the 34th name of the Mardukù—ME
34/2.
- 36- The People of the Ancient Serpent, under the
name of Mother Cow, creator of life in the universe,
will create in a spirit of respect and friendship the
female Alağní whose mission it will be to bring the
benefits of the civilization of the People of the Ancient
Serpent to the Anunna. These newcomers among the
Amašutum lineage will be subordinated to the sole
command of Tiamata, Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina and
the Council of the Amašutum of Nalulkára. For this
reason the 36th decree of the Mardukù is called
Ği’išnumunáb (“the Dark Stars, seed of the cows“)—
ME 36/2.
- 37- In accordance with the preceding decree, the
Amašutum will create female Alağní to civilize the
Anunna and till the fertile soil. These Nindiğir will be
distributed gradually throughout the twelve planets of
the solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna. This is why the
37th decree of the Mardukù is called Lugalábdubùr
(“the leader of the good cows, [mistresses] of the
agricultural areas“)—ME 37/1.
- 40- Let it be established by this decree that prince
Sa’am-Nudímmud, son of An, holds all the rights as to
the execution and supervision of the proper application
of the Mardukù. Prince Sa’am-Nudímmud will be
obliged to guide the Anunna toward the rights
conferred upon them by the Mardukù. In this capacity,
and as the creator of the Mardukù, a pride that he
shares with Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina, this 40th
decree is called Aránunna (“the source that
accompanies the prince“)—ME 40/2.
- 41- In accordance with the 1st, 5th, 11th and 15th
decrees, the Mardukù is the only law to be respected in
the solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna, of which the planet
called Dukù, motherland of the Anunna, is a part. To
this effect, this decree is called Dumu-Dukù (“Child of
Dukù“)—ME 41/3.
- 42- The Mardukù not only regulates the lives of the
Anunna, but also applies to their creator, the noble An,
who is akin to the firmament. By virtue of this decree,
An is bound to the Mardukù and the charter that was
prescribed to him by the illustrious Mamítu-Nammu-
Damkina and Prince Sa’am-Nudímmud in the name of
the People of the Ancient Serpent. Lugalšuanna is the
name of this decree (“The master who controls the
firmament [An]“)—ME 42/3.
- 43- The Mardukù is intended not only to regulate the
lives of the Anunna and their creator An, but also
applies to the noble Anšár, lord of Dukù, and Kišár,
the co-conceiver of An. By virtue of this decree, Anšár
and Kišár are bound to the Mardukù and to the charter
that was prescribed to them by the illustrious Mamítu-
Nammu-Damkina and Prince Sa’am-Nudímmud in the
name of the People of the Ancient Serpent. The
Mardukù accumulates the knowledge and the infinite
reason of the Amašutum and their ancestor the Dark
Matriarch. Each Anunna and each leader of the
Anunna who shall violate the directives of the
Mardukù and who shall slight the Ancient Serpent or
one of its Nindiğir will be subject to the 32nd decree.
Let it be known by this 43rd decree that the penalty
incurred could be imprisonment or death. Irug’ga is
the new name of the Mardukù (“he who produces the
prisoners and the dead“) –ME 43/5.
- 45- As organizer of the world of the Anunna, the
Mardukù will show no indulgence toward any male
Gina’abul who does not comply to the various decrees
cited above. Let it be known by this decree that the
Mardukù is responsible for the functions and powers
of the Anunna, the creatures of An. Kinma is the name
 of this new decree (“who orders and establishes“)—
ME 45/4.
- 46- As established in the 31st decree, the People of
the Ancient Serpent have the right to create Ádam
(animals) to assist the Gina’abul of Dukù in their labor
of the soil. By their labor, these Ádam will produce
and bring grain and other foodstuffs. The People of the
Ancient Serpent will be responsible for the various
Ádam that they will treat with esteem and
consideration. Ésiskur (“goods and offerings“) is the
name of the decree that binds the Ádam to the Anunna
—ME 46/3.
- 48- May Addu (“the invocation that spreads“) be the
name of this new decree, for the Mardukù is the
instrument that connects the sacred race of the
Gina’abul. It unites the Amašutum, heirs of the ancient
world of Urbar’ra (constellation of Lyra), who live in
peace with the Šutum, and the Nungal of Margíd’da
(constellation of Ursa Major), as well as the Anunna
soldiers of the Ubšu’ukkinna in Mulmul (the Pleiades)
—ME 48/3.
- 49- Let Ašaru (“the shining source“) be the name of
this decree, for the Mardukù is the instrument that
connects the sacred race of the Gina’abul with all of
the Kadištu. May this decree forever establish the tie
that binds all of the Gina’abul to the other benevolent
people of this universe—ME 49/5.
- 50- By this last commandment, let a copy of this
Mardukù be preserved in the solar system of Ti-ama-te
(our Solar System), the prime seat of our universe. Let
a copy of this Mardukù be placed in the Abzu of the
very holy Mulge[65] (“black star“), dwelling-place of
the Kadištu (planners) who work in the system of Ti-
ama-te in the service of the Namlú’u (human beings)
of Uraš (Earth), commonly called Lú. Let Mulge
(“black star“), which lies at the celestial junction of
Ti-ama-te, become the receptacle of the Mardukù and
the inscriptions of the Destinies. In the name of the
 Original Source, may the wisdom of the Mardukù
prevail in the system of Ti-ama-te and may it bring
peace throughout our universe. For this reason, this
last decree is called Sagmeğar[66] (“the deposit at the
head of the ME“). So be it—ME 50/3.
After this historic initiative, the council of the Amašutum
of Nalulkára formally decided to create a new word in their
secret language. Being an honorary member of the race of the
Amašutum, they transmitted this term to me. It had to do with
the Ubšu’ukkinna, the solar system in which An and Anšár
had established themselves and that we often still equate with
Mulmul (the Pleiades). Considering the importance that
Mulmul had acquired, the priestesses gave it the name of
Zappu (“the army from afar“), in reference to the Anunna
warriors who lived far away from us.
 46. The constellation Mulmul (the Pleiades). MUL-MUL
(lit. “the constellation of constellations”) includes the solar
system of Ubšu’ukkinna (Maia), home of the planet Dukù,
which was identified in the Ancient Orient as the sacred
mound or the celestial mountain of the gods.
 Journey through a Star Gate
“The spaceships have different sizes and names.
One of them is Patoowa, ‘the object that can fly above
water.’
Pahu means water in our tongue and Toowata is an object
with a curved surface,
which is why we also call it a ‘flying shield…’
When one is seated inside it,
one can move in all directions without falling,
however fast it is going.
When it has this shape, we call it Inioma.”
White Bear, Hopi Indian tradition(3)

Δ
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-U
Mam and I were finally ready to undertake our journey to
the planet Dukù. We gathered some of our things, as little as
possible, so as not to be weighed down, as well as the two
plaques of solid kùsig (gold) on which the Mardukù and the
ME with the fifty divine decrees had been inscribed. “ME” is
the name we give to the green quartz optical disks that we use
to store information about our laws and arts. I learned from
Mam that it was an old word from the secret language of the
Amašutum. Decomposed phonetically into ME-E, it means
“that which expresses the prescriptions.” It was a word created
by the priestesses, for it can also be pronounced MÍ, which
refers to the feminine principle that is the source of all life.
Transporting our precious Didabbasar (code of laws), we
flew first in a southerly course to our capital, Unulahgal,
which had the largest Diranna (star gate) on the planet. This
was where the great official departures into space always took
place. I was excited at the thought of undertaking my first
interstellar trip. Being equipped with the knowledge of an
Alağní (clone), I had a rather precise notion of the vortices in
which the sense of time no longer applied and which were
used to travel between distant points at speeds faster than light.
My forays into space until then had merely been shuttle trips
between An’s Uanna and our planet. I was finally about to
leave Nalulkára and have a taste of interstellar navigation
through a Diranna (star gate).
At the last minute, I decided to take Enimin along, the
undisciplined Alağní who had tried to get escape. Ever since
he was reintroduced among the Nungal, he had undergone a
detailed initiation into the planning procedure. The reports that
I had received about him were very favorable. We had had
occasion to talk several times and I noticed that he had
remarkable aptitudes, including a good deductive mind. When
I asked him about accompanying us to Mulmul (the Pleiades),
I saw by the look in his eyes that he was eager to serve me. I
was sure that this Alağní would be a very efficient servant.
◆◆◆

We spent an entire day finalizing our preparations. It

was already evening, by the light of the setting sun, that Mam,
Enimim, a detachment of twenty Amašutum and I made our
way toward an impressive Iníuma. The shadow of night fell
over the capital, but did nothing to cool what had been a
stiflingly hot day. At the ship, there was a jubilant crowd
waiting to see us off. We had a hard time making our way
through the assembled well-wishers in colorful costumes. The
loudness of the crowd caused a deep silence to fall over the
group.
For us Gina’abul, the word Iníuma (“the powerful
expeditionary force that travels through time“) refers to
spacecraft made for travel into deep space. These are long-
distance Gigirlah especially designed to travel through the
universe by using the atemporal vortices in which the laws of
the three-dimensional world no longer held sway. The only
difference with the traditional spacecrafts was that they were
much larger and could transport as many as two hundred
individuals, and even more, depending on the models.
 The Diranna (star gates) cannot be seen with the naked
eye because of their high density and very small size. The
denser ones usually stay in a particular location, while the
lighter ones move across the surface of the planet like ordinary
cosmic particles. They can be compared with mini-black holes
in which, under certain conditions, matter and light are
absorbed. The Diranna that we use the most often can be
recognized by long straight lines that are left on the ground
around them, seeming to begin and end nowhere. That night,
the star gate of Unulahgal seemed to extend to the horizon and
be prolonged in the Milky Way that glowed in the heavens. A
huge crowd had gathered at the runway.
 48/49 - Ancient Sumerian sign meaning “road,”
“expedition” or “way.” This sign also recalls those for
KASKAL-GÍD (lit. “long road”) and DANNA, respectively
Sumerian units of distance (6.6 miles) and of time (2 hours).
This sign also recalls unusual patterns of crossed lines found
throughout the world, such as at Nazca, in Peru.
 After having programmed our destination, we lay down on
thick seats and did our best to relax. The pre-lift-off
calculations were usually tedious. Another quarter of a Danna
(half hour on Earth) passed before the ship finally began to
vibrate gently, which must have been audible as a dull roar
outside. A computerized voice went through a countdown
from 20 to 1, which indicated that the calculations had been
successfully completed and that we were ready to break the
light barrier.
We know that a great deal of energy can be extracted from
the fields of Turzalag (tachyon particles) that compose the
structure of most of the dark matter of the universe and the
atemporal vortices. In order to do so, a vacuum must be
created around the ship to capture the propagation of
infinitesimally small light particles. This vacuum is created by
reaching a velocity higher than that of sound and then
suddenly shifting the spaceship’s axis of rotation. The
acceleration caused by this maneuver generates an anti-
gravitational effect. Turzalag (tachyons) can pass through any
mass, giving up some of their energy as they are braked.
Thanks to the acceleration and braking, the powerful Turzalag
field makes any object immersed in it fly with a velocity
greater than the speed of light.[67]
Light does not have the nature of a wave, but it does have
wave effects. We are among the enlightened beings in this
universe who have understood this subtlety and who consider
matter simply as condensed energy. We know that thanks to
the Turzalag (tachyons), energy can be turned into wave
energy at an initial starting point, made to travel over long
distances faster than light, and then turned back into energy at
the point of arrival.
In just a few instants, the craft and its passengers were
going to pass from a state of energy to that of a wave. I was
expecting a very dramatic departure… At the fateful count of
zero, our Iníuma passed through the Diranna (star gate) like a
bolt of lightning, flooding the interior of the spaceship with
sporadic flashes of light. The cockpit was instantly filled with
a diaphanous fluid. I could feel my body floating in this liquid,
as if it were being sucked into a dark-red tunnel, inducing a
state of deep relaxation. As the acceleration continued, the
pellucid fluid gradually gelled, surrounding us completely and
holding us in a dense medium. Maximum velocity had been
attained, the amber color turned to purple, and then to rainbow
hues; one of the major features of traveling through time
corridors[68]. As cruising speed was reached, the gel that had
enabled us to withstand the acceleration gradually re-liquefied,
permitting us to move around in the cockpit like in a small
swimming pool.
Shortly after our departure, our minds, overwhelmed by
the sensations, were gradually synchronized with the
atemporal expansion into which we had been plunged. The trip
itself was as uneventful as could be. We could see nothing
except the constant flashes of rainbow colors that shifted along
the walls and portholes of the ship.
 49 - Reptilian astronaut in a state of weightlessness
according to the Mayan Perez Codex (Paris), plate 17. The
ancient Maya knew about space travel. The symbolism of
this hieroglyph shows a trip between Venus and the Earth.
The horizontal bar at the top left refers to the fifth
creation, the Earth, and the bar to the right with three dots
represents the cycle of Venus. Notice the presence of the
cross-shaped sign Ku, which means “lightning” as well as
what is “divine” and “holy.” This Mayan sign often
appears in the celestial barks of the Amerindian “gods”
and high dignitaries. It can also be seen on the relief from
Chalcatzingo (7) and the relief plaque from Palenque (10).
The Sumerian particle KÙ means “holiness” and “the
sacred,” and was often used as an attribute of the “gods.”
 As we coursed through the atemporal vortex, we could
visualize our progress thanks to holographic images of such
fine detail that they seemed almost real. The spectacle was not
as striking as during a traditional flight, but the virtual effects
reproduced the beauty of the sights with a high degree of
fidelity. After a 90-day trip, Mulmul (Pleiades) finally
appeared on the control screens. The famous constellation
looked exactly like the image of it that was encoded in our
genes. It was a compact group of suns born out of a cloud of
gas. The brightest stars were set in a field of thousands of
smaller stars that glowed like an azure cloud against the dark
heavens. The constellation is slightly veiled by an electrically
charged halo made up of stardust and gas.
The holographic images zeroed in on our destination: the
solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna, shining like a lighthouse in the
midst of the dark abyss between the worlds. We were moving
at such fantastic speeds that the last holographic image that I
was able to see showed not the planet Dukù but the blockade
that had been set up around it. A fleet of hundreds of ships
commanded by the Confederation of Kadištu (planners) was
stationed in orbit around the green and yellow planet. We did
not feel the descent at all. It had been a pleasant journey from
start to finish in the heart of the abysses of time.
 The Anunna of Dukù
“They came into existence by virtue of science, grandeur,
vanity and power, and they were favored…”
Scroll from Nag-Hammadi, “Zostrian,” Codex 7: 81(12)

₪
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-U-
Dili
We were in Adhal, an average-size city on Dukù that
happened to have the planet’s largest star gate. When we
disembarked from the spaceship we were greeted by four
singular individuals of ashen complexion. I recognized them
instantly, for they belonged to the same race as the three
buffoons of our late king, Abzu-Abbu. These were Alağní
(clones) of the Mìmínu[69] race, easily identifiable because
their heads were very similar to those of Kiši (ants). The
Mìmínu, which means “those responsible for hostile duties,”
belonged to an ancient line of workers created by the Mušgir
(Dragons) and the Ušumgal in the constellation of Urbar’ra
(Lyra). They survived the Great War and became the loyal
workforce of Abzu-Abba and Anšár. I knew that the
Amašutum despised these genetic dwarfs because of their
scornful and cold character. The physique of the Mìmínu is not
as sophisticated as ours and they were created without any
visible beauty. They are very small, have grayish skin, two
nostrils instead of a nose and neither ears, lips nor eyelids.
Their eyes are large, black and bulbous, with an empty,
unfeeling appearance. There are several types of Mìmínu, but
those who worked for us had these particular characteristics.
 50 - Illustration showing a Mìmínu (MÌ-MÍ-NU), lit.
“those responsible for hostile duties.” Today this strain of
workers created by the ancient Gina’abul in the
constellation of Urbar’ra (Lyra) is called the “Greys.” The
Mìmínu worked collectively and behaved like ants, in the
sense that they always worked for a common purpose.
They were parasites who lived in symbiosis with the
Gina’abul, whom they served, and could be found on bases
throughout our universe. Credo Mutwa, a famous
contemporary African shaman, reports that the Zulus
called the Greys Mantindane, lit. “executioners”
(www.spectrumnews10.com). In the Sumerian Gina’abul
language, this word can be decomposed into MAN
(partner, associate, equal) TIN (to live, dwell) DAN
(calamity), to make MAN-TIN-DAN, “the associates where
calamity dwells” or “the associates who live from
calamity.”
 The main advantage of the Mìmínu was their unerring
discipline and ability to follow orders. Like Kiši (ants), they
had a non-individual intelligence and their behavior was
geared toward a common goal.
The four Mìmínu greeted us with a bow and asked us to
follow them. The weather was perfect, without a cloud in the
sky, for Dukù was a planet warmed by an blazing sun.
Moreover, it is never completely dark because of the many
neighboring stars in the cluster. A green landscape spread out
as far as the eye could see, reminding me not a little of the
Abzu on Nalulkára.
Our guides took the lead and brought us to a paved
walkway. We passed gardens crisscrossed by canals and full of
flowers of all kinds. Everywhere we looked there were
luxuriant stretches of land dotted with parks that offered oases
of peace. I could see that our priestesses had worked very hard
in these parks. After having walked a while in the crushing
heat, we finally came to an area bordered by great cedar trees
that spread a cool and welcome shade. My impression was that
Dukù would have been a real paradise, if only food had been
available in more abundance, which was not the case due to
the hasty withdrawal of the Amašutum.
After the great trees came a vast plain from which rose a
deafening din. It was full of naked individuals with drawn
faces who had been herded together without the least concern
for safety or hygiene. There were thousands upon thousands of
them: a staggering and unreal sight. We had finely come face
to face with the notorious Anunna… But all we could see was
misery and desolation, for they were kept cooped up under
deplorable conditions. Utterly dismayed, we left this
nightmarish vision behind us, then walked past more gardens
until we came within sight of a great temple adjacent to a
stepped Unir (pyramid). This royal palace at the edge of the
city seemed to be our destination.
The majestic pyramidal residence consisted of many
stories with successions of rooms and terraces. We climbed
long flights of stairs before reaching a rather dark room which
had been closed off with a thick curtain to keep the
temperature at a moderate level. Here and there we could see
candles twinkling like tiny stars floating in the shadows, while
clouds of delicate fragrances wafted from the incense burners.
Ensconced in a tall, princely throne made of rare wood,
probably sycamore, sat a priestess who was waiting for us
impassively. I had scarcely been able to make out her features
when Mam cried out “Ninmah!” I sensed the terror that
suddenly gripped my companion. The Ninmah who sat there
no longer had her usual gaze, but that of an Ušumgal! She
observed us with darting, silent and disquieting eyes that
intensified the domineering character of the impetuous
priestess.
Ninmah sat on the throne with her arms and legs crossed,
displaying a proud bearing. She honored us with a strained
smiled and made a slight gesture of the head to invite us to pay
our respects with a bow. Knowing that it was better not to
contradict an individual in possession of the powers of an
Ušumgal, I urged the group to do obeisance. We did so with
great caution and under duress. I saw her mouth twist slightly
as she gazed triumphantly down at me and Nammu. Our gazes
met with equal firmness. Suddenly, Enimin left the group and
strode respectfully toward the royal throne: “You are really
magnificent… You are true to your reputation…”, he sighed
with a clear note of admiration in his voice.
It was true, Ninmah did have an unusual grace about her
and wore all the symbols of a queen. Her body was draped in a
diaphanous veil of yellow silk, and there was silver dust
sparkled on her eyelids and chest. She wore a necklace of
alternating pieces of amber and rock crystal. Her arms were
adorned with finely crafted metal bracelets and her hands and
shoes were adorned with yellow and green gemstones. On her
head, she wore a silvered and gilded wig in the shape of a bird.
It was the ancient rainbow headdress of the Dark Matriarchs,
the ancestors of the Amašutum. In spite of all this, I did not
feel an ounce of attraction for the priestess… and this
disturbed me a little.
“Who are you, my child?” asked Ninmah. Mamítu
intervened firmly: “He is not authorized to answer. He is
simply here as an observer. Know that he is the Ádab (servant)
of Sa’am and myself. I would ask you not to speak to him
anymore.”. Ninmah’s face darkened in an effort to conceal a
rush of anger. With her new powers, she was able to control
her rage, which is something that she had been unable to do
before: “From now on, I will be giving the orders here, not
taking them! she replied dryly. Does that remind you of
something? I permit this young Alağní (clone) to come
forward and introduce himself to my august person.”
Mam and Enimin turned to me, and I gave a nod of
agreement. It was a delicate situation, the cohesion of our
group was threatened. Ninmah had the reputation of being a
consummate trickster. My mind was astir, I had to remain
extremely calm to conceal my thoughts and feelings. Enimin
walked up to the massive wooden throne. I stayed vigilant,
observing every move and gesture that the priestess made.
Gazes can often betray inner tension, independently of the
apparent facial expression, and that was a matter of mental
power. Mam had told me about this phenomenon, which also
applied to individuals endowed with the Níama (vital force).
Ninmah’s way of looking at Enimin completely gave her
passion away:
“My name is Enimin, your Highness. I am the creation of
Lugal (master) Sa’am-Nudímmud, as well as his humble
disciple.
- Nudímmud, did you say? I see that your Lugal has
earned the honors of a title as cloner. You are quite
well put together, I am very pleased! Do you have any
brothers like you, or are you a unique specimen?
- Why do you ask this question? I intervened. Enimin
is simply a Nungal.
- Then why does he have the number seven in his
name? Why is he the seventh En (lord)? I find that
rather strange, Prince Sa’am, and I have a hard time
believing that you would take an ordinary Nungal as
your servant… Your Alağní (clone) will tell me what I
wish to know.”
 Proceeding with her contemplation, Ninmah’s expression
suddenly softened as she let her gaze feast on Enimin. Her
eyes widened in an upwelling of power that penetrated into
every fiber of my disciple’s being: “You see, she said, this
Alağní is indeed an exceptional being… But they were seven
before… Enimin is the survivor of an aborted experiment. This
being was created out of different cells… that is a
considerable achievement, a technical feat… and the very first
of its kind. Enimin is a mixed breed, the first successful hybrid
in the history of the Gina’abul!”
I interrupted her peremptorily:
“With all due respect, Nindiğir (priestess), we did not
come all this way to be given a display of your new powers,
nor to inspect one of my Alağní (clone), but to discuss the
Anunna. These creatures do not seem to be trustworthy at all.
Because of this and in order to help civilize them, we have
established a Didabbasar (code of laws) that will guarantee a
rigorous education for your Alağní and a lasting peace
between the Anunna warriors and the Gina’abul planners.
- Could it be that your authority has gone to your
head, young Lugal? I find you quite impudent. Know
that I will not tolerate your sarcasm any longer. You
have no authority whatsoever on this planet. Why am I
dealing with the likes of you instead of with Tiamata
or Mamítu-Nammu?”
 51. Ninmah, queen of Dukù, listening to the group
coming from the constellation of the Big Dipper. She wears
the Rainbow Headdress of the Dark Matriarchs
 Mamítu walked up to the throne and started speaking in a
wavering tone of voice. This lack of assurance was not like her
at all.
- Ninmah, our delegation is not carrying a unpleasant
news. By Barbélú, I must get you out of your solitary
offices which cut you off from everything. You should
know that Sa’am is my companion and that he has
complete power over all the Abzu of our colonies. Our
Barag (king) Abzu-Abba is no more. Sa’am eliminated
him so as to prevent a war that would no doubt have
destroyed us all. But now I see that your army is in
such a deplorable condition that it no longer represents
a threat to us…
- Don’t get the wrong impression, Mamítu-Nammu,
they may be unclothed and starving, but they know
how to bear arms and fight. We could have greeted
you with a lot more of a ruckus. The Anunna are loyal
soldiers, willing to lay their lives on the line in order to
save their creators. Lahmu and Lahamu have already
told us about the great feats of An’s son. To be sure,
Sa’am is not short on daring! Since he was able to
preserve the peace at the risk of losing his life, we will
examine the Didabbasar (code of laws) carefully.
Please leave it in this chest.”
Ninmah pointed to a large wooden chest made of
lemonwood and decorated with jasper at the foot of the throne.
Two of the priestesses placed the heavy kùsig (gold) plaques
inside. Ninmah then turned to me and spoke to me sternly.
“Am (lord), if you wish to talk with your creator, you will
find him in the laboratory complex on the left as you leave the
palace. Now I am going to have a talk with the very holy
Mamítu-Nammu; we have a lot of things to discuss. As for the
others, noble Amašutum and Nungal, you will be taken to your
new quarters. You must all be rather tired.”
Escorted by four Mìmínu (Greys), we left the premises,
leaving Damkina alone with Ninmah. My companion glanced
at me before parting and tried to smile as gracefully as she
could; she was obviously worried. I did not feel very good
about leaving her alone with the unpredictable Ninmah.
Moreover, I was rather irritated by the turn that events had
taken. Before leaving, I told Enimin not to go near Ninmah
under any circumstances and ordered him to keep his peace
unless it was absolutely necessary. He had a tendency to talk
too much and spent no effort in giving himself airs of
importance. I knew what the treacherous priestess was after,
but I did not want to be instrumental in furthering a liaison that
might well catapult Enimin to a position of supreme power. If
there was one thing I could not stand in those days, it was
losing control of one of my own Alağní—probably a bad habit
that I had gotten from my creator!
◆◆◆

After entering the building in which I was supposed to

meet my father, I walked through hallways lined with
impressive white marble columns, climbed some steps and
followed a long corridor full of Mìmínu (Greys) who greeted
me in passing. I finally arrived at a large inner courtyard in
which stood seven small Unir (pyramids). The pavement was
made of tiles that formed the sacred disk emblem of the male
Gina’abul. I walked over to the largest pyramid and went
inside. I had just noticed that the floor was giving off a dim
greenish light when I heard a loud voice say: “Come in,
Sa’am”. This was not my creator’s voice, but that of Anšár.
Although they sounded somewhat alike, their voices were still
the best clue to telling them apart. Anšár’s great bulk suddenly
loomed out of the shadows and moved toward me.
“Still working away, grandfather?” I asked him. Anšár
is a geneticist, like my creator. With a wave of the hand, he
used his Níama to move a chair. Without hesitation or looking
behind me, I sat down on it exactly when it came to a stop
behind me. Anšár remained standing. Suddenly, I knew what
the small Mìmínu (Greys) must feel like when they stand next
to us:
“You see, my young friend, creating a Ba (a soul) is one of
the noblest tasks and I would keep working on it for Muanna
(years) if I had to.
- You shouldn’t play with nature like that, I replied,
not hiding my dismay.
- Ah! but Sa’am, for your creator and me, you are the
very exemplar of that kind of persistence.”
I was very surprised to hear this. How could my two
Kuku (ancestors) consider me a model of obstinacy? This
remark caught me so off guard that Anšár was able to catch
my thoughts:
“The irresistible wish to improve our creations, my friend.
You are a remarkable example, for you have paved the way for
us to a new manner of cloning. Imagine how it would be if we
could create not only the body but also the Ba (soul) that will
inhabit the body…
- It is possible to create a being, but a Ba (soul)! Even
if that were possible, I would never do it. This is
something that only the Original Source is entitled to
do. Each of us is a fragment of this Source. The
expression of the Original Source, in individual form,
exists throughout the universe as divine fragments in a
never-ending process of separation and experience of
the subjective expression of the self.”
Anšár burst into such a fit of laughter that he had a hard
time finding his serious demeanor again:
“Ah, Sa’am, Sa’am, noble son, don’t you have a non-
fragmented Ba (soul)? Where is your place in the chain of
evolution? You doubt, you don’t know anymore, do you?
- I’m not entitled to one at the moment. A complete
Ba (soul) cannot fully experience the individual
expression of the self. Maybe in a later Zišàğál
(incarnation). As a non-fragmented being, I am only at
the beginning of the evolutionary chain.
- Are you really certain about that? You seem to be
rather sure of yourself. I can almost imagine myself
hearing Mamítu-Nammu. I have heard her talk like
this already. Some Nindiğir (priestesses) call this
 evolutionary process Gibilzišàğál (reincarnation), as
well as evolution of the divine beings. Mamítu-
Nammu presented this doctrine to all the male
Gina’abul in a memorable speech, quite a long time
ago. Her convictions did not interest us in the least, but
Tigeme (Tiamata) permitted her to work on that
accursed planet Uraš (Earth), where she was able to
climb to the highest echelons. It seems to me that that
unfathomable cult of the Kadištu (planners) has not
had a very good influence on you. In what way are you
not perfect, Sa’am? Why would you want to
reincarnate someday? You are honored by the
Ušumgal, respected by the Amašutum, and feared by
all the Gina’abul ever since your exploit against Abzu-
Abba. You are rich, powerful and immortal: a veritable
god! Moreover, your creator and I are offering you the
unparalleled privilege of leading the greatest armed
force ever assembled.
- Your offer doesn’t interest me, Kuku (ancestor). I
haven’t come to discuss philosophy or military
strategy with you. Our friendly and courteous relations
are in the process of coming to an end. We have come
with a Didabbasar (code of laws) that…”
Anšár’s face took on an expression of diabolic cruelty:
“Your resistance is ludicrous and useless, Ádab (servant).
What you have brought us is precisely the solution that we
have been waiting for so long. The Didabbasar that you
concocted is nothing but a trick. I don’t even have to read it to
know what it says. But it is also the divine instrument that will
permit us to put our plan against the antiquated protectionist
politics of our adversaries into action. Don’t you see that you
are only obeying our superior will? We thought that you had
already realized that. Know that nothing and no one will ever
be able to free you of your programming!”
52. Anšár argues fiercely with Sa’am about his fate.
 I dropped my head, completely crushed by his words.
His confession revolted me and reminded me of my fateful
origins. An’s creator went on to add these final words: “You
have accomplished your mission, little Alağní (clone). You
have been programmed, whether you like it or not. Do not
reveal what you know to anyone. We will greet your
Didabbasar with all due appreciation. In accordance with it,
you will encourage Nammu and her Amašutum to undertake
their educational mission among the Anunna. But before
anything else, our children will have to be fed. Furthermore, I
advise you to visit all of your Abzu, this will take your mind off
of things and increase your popularity. But don’t forget that
you belong to us and that you are serving pour purposes.”
Suddenly confronted with this insufferable reality, I
was able to express my protest only by turning my back to my
Kuku (ancestor). In just a few words, Anšár had cut me down
to the size of my genome. I rushed out of the laboratory to
hide my distress. Once alone, I could see the full extent of this
abominable conspiracy clearly for the first time. My
foreboding of a coming war at the beginning of my
investigation had just been confirmed. What could I do? I was
trapped.
I hastened away from the residential area and plunged
into the luxuriant gardens. As I wandered around, the din
caused by the Anunna reached my ears again. This prompted
me to take a closer look at them. The plain on which they
camped was surrounded by an electrified fence. It was a
startling spectacle. The Anunna were a very disciplined army
indeed; the fence was not very high and it would have been
easy for them to jump over it and escape.
To my left, I could see the silos in which the food
reserves had been kept and which were now completely gutted
and empty. The depot seemed to have been left unused for
quite a while. I walked along the electrified fence and saw
what looked like Gina’abul skins on the ground. In fact, the
ground was littered with skins and the Anunnas just walked
over them. These were skins left from the periodic sloughs.
The fact that the Anunna had sloughed so often in so little time
proved that they had a considerable longevity. As far as I
knew, ever since we had been together, Mam had not yet gone
through a period of Gibil’lásu (renewal of the skin). My own
ability to regenerate my skin had not yet manifested itself
either.
A group of Anunna came closer to the fence and stared
at me intently. I was surprised to see that they did not have the
same features as I did. Nor did they have as fine a physique as
the other Gina’abul I knew. Their skin was slightly darker than
ours and they clearly had more scales.
To my great astonishment they began to glorify me.
The air was suddenly filled with a great clamor as they
chanted the title, “LUGAL (master).” It was obvious that the
Anunna had been programmed to honor their leaders. Since
my physique was similar to that of An and Anšár, I was not at
all surprised by this reaction. On the other hand, I was not as
tall as my two Kuku; why did this fact not seem to make any
difference? One of the Anunna approached me and addressed
me respectfully:
“Please help us, Lugal (master). We are hungry. Look at
the state we are in. How could you permit such an outrage?
We are humbly at your service, Lugal Sa’am.
- How do you know my name, Alağní (clone)?
- I don’t know, but we all know that it’s you. Your face
resembles that of your ancestors, An and Anšár, and
you have the same size as we and our holy Šàzu
(midwife) Ninmah.
- Do you know how many of you there are?
- Nearly 42,000 Alağní (clones). But here, in Adhal,
there are no more than 9,000 of us. Some are in the
capital, Urubàd, and others more to the south in
Zagdu.
- I thought that there would be Anunna with a different
physiognomy, do you know anything about that?
- We’re all the same here, but in Zagdu there are
Alağní with different physical and psychological
 features. Please help us, Am (lord), we are humbly
devoted to you. There is nothing left to eat anymore.
We have eaten all the grass on the plain and our stores
have been empty ever since the Amašutum left Dukù
in such a haste. I’m hungry, don’t you have anything to
give me?
- I… I will do my best to help you…”
Suddenly, the expression on the Alağní’s face turned to
terror as a shadow passed over us: “It’s a… be careful, a
Mušhuš!” he shouted.
◆◆◆

When I woke up, I had a terrible headache. Mam was lying

next to me, and I had absolutely no idea where we were. I was
lying naked on a bed made of cedar wood inlaid with gold and
cornelian. Coming through the open windows there were
pleasant scents from the gardens.
“Don’t worry, my prince, I washed you because you
smelled bad. We are in our quarters in the royal Unir
(pyramid). Drink some of this, it has medicinal herbs in it.
- I don’t need it, I replied somewhat testily.
- Níama (vital force) or not, you could use some. You
should see the bruise on the back of your head. It’s
Hírbina (verbena), a wonderful herb that cures fever
and helps relieve pain. We use it in most of our
beverages. You can find everything here, all the plants
you can imagine; it’s a little bit like on Uraš (Earth).
You just have to bend down and pick them…”
Damkina offered me a green enamel cup. I accepted her
firm care and drank the potion, making a face in the process.
Our priestesses knew all the secrets of the plants and herbs,
how to make decoctions and potions. I still had a lot to learn
from my companion:
“Do you know what happened to me, I asked.
- We have no idea. We found you unconscious on the
ground next to the fence around the compound of the
 Anunna. It was they who cried out to draw our
attention. They nearly broke the fence down, and some
even electrocuted themselves while attempting to
protect you. I tried to question them, but they told me
that they were not allowed to answer. The only thing
they wanted was to eat! Since I couldn’t bring them
anything they even spat in my face. Apparently, they
are not very fond of the Nindiğir (priestesses).
Although I don’t trust her, I asked Ninmah to
interrogate the Anunna. We should have more
information soon. Can you remember anything?
- Nothing in particular, except that one of the Anunna
mentioned the word Mušhuš (terrible serpent), and
then feeling a shadow pass over me, at the same time
as a piercing cry that reminded me of an Urin (eagle).
Have I dreamed?”
Damkina’s face suddenly darkened. She answered in a
shaking voice:
“That’s a word that I haven’t heard in quite a long time.
We’re in a very serious situation, Nudímmud (cloner). At this
point we can rely on no one else but ourselves. The bad smell
you had on you is associated with some very bad memories.
As for the cry you heard, it confirms an impression I’ve had
ever since we arrived. In the old days, our Amašutum
ancestors used a special word to refer to our enemies, the
Mušgir (Dragons). We used the secret term “Mušhuššu,”
which is the equivalent of Mušhuš, or Mušgir, in our common
language.
- I don’t understand, apart from Tiamata and yourself,
none of you knew the Mušgir!”
 53 - Mušgir (MUŠ-GIR10), lit. “furious reptile,” is a
homophone of MUŠ-GIR “dragon.” These dragons were
feared by the Mesopotamians. The Sumerians called them
Mušgir or Mušhuš, and the Akkadians, Pazuzu. Figurine in
red jasper, Neo-Assyrian Period (inv. AO 26056), Louvre,
Paris.
 “I don’t understand, you never knew the Mušgir, none of
you ever had any dealings with them. Only Tiamata ever saw
any, and that was a very long time ago.
- Yes, that’s right, but you forget that we’ve been
programmed and that this program is fixed in our
genes. The Mušhuššu-Mušgir are hideous creatures,
and I don’t know why they are here on Dukù.
- You ask why? Well, I happen to know, I shouted.
What kind of genetic material do you think they used
to recreate the Mušgir? Why can they be found
precisely where the Anunna were produced? Do you
remember the person who got away with about 25% of
our genetic heritage? The same person who, by magic,
now happens to possess the power of the Ušumgal!”
I was completely beside myself. Mam had to raise her
voice:
“Get a hold of yourself, Sa’am! You must control your
impulses, your emotional outbursts. As I told you already, the
body acts as a transmitter of waves. Please don’t fall into the
trap that they’ve set for us here. Hate can only bring more
harm, my son, because it generates fear. Our ancestors, the
Mušidim, knew hatred and fear. The planets of the ancient Ti-
ama-te (the Solar System), affected by this desire for
destruction, resonated with their sun, agitated by devastating
jolts. The spontaneous combustion of the sun, on the scale of
their star system, upset the speed of rotation of all the planets
and changed their polarities. It also changed the course of
time. The radiation emitted by the solar winds caused a mass
extinction in the ancient Ti-ama-te. It was Mother Barbélú,
herself, who gathered the fragmented data to restore our
origins.
- I see that I still have a lot to learn on this subject…
- Yes, you’re right. We kept some Mušgir genes and
Ninmah probably stole them for your creator, and she
probably has an intimate relationship with him now. I
would have to be on our own planet to confirm this.
You know, when we were busy creating the Nungal, I
 was always so disconcerted by your efforts to protect
your creator… Events have accelerated, and I was lax
in my duty to verify what had been stolen. None of
this surprises me, coming from Ninmah.”
In a flash, I became aware of the unreality of the
situation: how had An been able to copulate with Ninmah
despite their considerable difference in size? Sex was still a
great mystery to me at the time.
“Forgive me, you’re right, I replied calmly. We must be on
our guard and not allow ourselves to be led astray. I’ll go to
Ninmah myself, without you, otherwise she might be able to
discover what we know about the Mušgir without your
realizing it. I sense that you have become very vulnerable ever
since we arrived here; I don’t want to take any chances. What
did you find out when you talked with her?
- This place makes me dizzy. I can hardly look at the
horizon for fear of seeing shapes that might remind me
of a dark past. Ninmah told me that they are all
counting on us to prepare an accelerated plan for the
education and instruction of the Anunna. I told her
that we would do so only if they ratified the Mardukù.
What surprised me the most was that she reacted as if
she had already read the decrees and accepted them. I
thought it was because of her Ušumgal powers.
Ninmah, you know, has recovered her deeper nature,
which is completely in resonance with that of your
Kuku (ancestors). I’m very worried about her.
- Ninmah seems to know a lot of things. Don’t forget
that she has become a sort of Ušumgal now and that
she has the same powers as you do. You are in danger,
Damkina. I would not want to see you become party to
a forced alliance between my Kuku and the Nindiğir
(priestesses). I will have to transmit my Ušumgal
powers to you as soon as I can. But I can’t do that
without first having a Ğèš (penis). You must operate
me as soon as possible.
- Yes, I will give a Ğèš, but not under these conditions.
Not to transform myself into one of you and watch my
 individuality change…”
I gently took her hand in mine. I understood her concern:
“Your individuality will change only if your determination is
vulnerable, which I don’t think will be a problem with you. In
any case, I hardly think that we have a choice in the matter!”
Mam had a very refined sensitivity, and I might even say a
certain romanticism; a mode of perception that I did not yet
share with her. If she wanted me to be endowed with a Ğèš, it
was primarily for affective reasons and to make me become
her planner—not for strategic purposes. She made this clear to
me by acting somewhat coolly toward me over the next few
days. However, I felt that she was struggling internally
between the will to preserve her own nature and that of
possessing the grandiose constitution of her illustrious model:
Barbélú, the Mother of the Origins …
◆◆◆

My talk with Ninmah was totally unproductive. She

lied about the investigation that had been conducted on my
accident and said that I had been the victim of a stone thrown
by one of the Anunna. Her explanation was completely
fallacious since the Anunna had been in front of me, and not
behind, at the time of the incident. She used it as a pretext to
insist on the fact that the Alağní (clones) warriors were
becoming more and more unmanageable and had to be fed as
soon as possible. I did not insist on the first point, because I
was convinced that we could not trust Ninmah at all. On the
other hand, as far as feeding the Alağní (clones) was
concerned, I told her that, pending the signing of the Mardukù,
we would start by moving the compounds so that the Anunna
could benefit from fresher ground. I did this in two days’ time
with the help of the available Mìmínu (Greys). Ninmah then
ordered the Mìmínu of Urubàd and Zagdu to move the
compounds of the Anunna that I had not yet seen.
In this forsaken solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna the
sense of time expanded like a sand desert, going nowhere. In
accordance with the customs of the Gina’abul, the
measurement of time had to be the same as on our home planet
of Nalulkára in the system of Anduruna, in spite of a
discrepancy of several Danna (hours). This also held for all of
our colonies.
Later, I heard that my creator had retreated to his
inevitable refuge, the Uanna in orbit around Dukù. He was
apparently in no hurry to meet me. It was only on the third day
after my “accident” that we were invited to visit him. Ninmah,
Anšár and some of his Mìmínu henchmen were also
summoned to attend the ceremonial ratification of the
Mardukù.
 The Signing of the Mardukù
“The body of the Vimâna (chariot) must be made solid and
durable, like a great flying bird made of light materials. Inside
there must be a mercury motor and, underneath, the metal
device to heat it. The latent power of the mercury permits
motion, so that a man sitting inside can travel great distances
across the sky. The movements of the Vimâna are such that it
can ascend and descend vertically, as well as tilt backwards
and forwards. With the help of its machines, a human being
can fly in the air and return to the ground afterward.”
Sanskrit Samarangana Sutradhara (15)
“And the King of Darkness evoked the myriads of species
in order to create and multiply them, thousands upon
thousands of horrid creatures, infinitely many… and the
darkness increased and these Demons grew…”
Excerpt from the Book of the Treasure of Adam(16)

Ж
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-U-
Min
Mam, Enimin, two priestesses and I used a very exotic
aircraft that the Amašutum seemed to be familiar with. There
were many different types of this aircraft on Dukù. It was not a
Gigirlah, for the craft did not have a spherical but an oblong
shape. My companion told me that this kind of craft was
referred to as a Mú’u,[70] a term that sounded vaguely familiar
and that designated an object that could be used to “ascend and
travel.” The Mú’u were evidently not intended to cover long
distances in outer space, but to travel at high speed around the
globe, as well as to reach orbital altitudes above the planet. If I
had known beforehand what it felt like to travel in a Mú’u, I
would never have climbed on board! Unlike the Gigirlah or
the Iníuma, in which the occupants feel no change in gravity,
in the Mú’u the body is subject to extremely high pressure
because of the gravitational force and the powerful propulsion
of its reactors. The cabins of the Mú’u are not pressurized in
the same way as a Gigirlah or Iníuma, because they are not
meant to be flown through the atemporal vortices.
 54 - Illustration showing two jets or shuttles of the Mú’u
type; from a photograph taken by White Bear on a cliff face
near Oraibi in Arizona. These rock carvings are ancient and
dated to long before the invention of airplanes. Between the
two crafts there is a strange shape that might represent a
satellite.
 And so our craft tore itself away from the surface of the
planet and headed for a rendezvous with the Uanna orbiting
around Dukù. I was sick during the entire flight! The two
priestesses discreetly made fun of my obviously wretched
condition, but Mam expressed concern. She said that she had
not had an easy time of it herself during her first few trips in a
Mú’u. She had also been the butt of jokes from her colleagues,
but had gotten used to the discomforts in the course of time.
Enimin did not make a sound; he seemed to be able to weather
this mode of travel with an almost provocative ease.
As soon as we had cleared the planet’s gravitational field I
felt slightly better. Then the stars began to reel in such an odd
way that I became terribly dizzy and nauseous. Mamítu kept
on talking and tried to distract me from my unease—only
making it worse! I was in no shape to be able to appreciate the
beautiful spectacle of the heavens. Fortunately, the rest of the
trip until we docked was not as rich in sensations. I saw many
spaceships belonging to the Kadištu (planners) force orbiting
the green planet like artificial satellites shining brightly against
the interplanetary darkness.
◆◆◆

Our reception on the Uanna was not particularly warm,

due no doubt to the considerable delay in our arrival. This had
been a deliberate tactic on Mam’s part to demonstrate her
authority over the Gina’abul of the Ubšu’ukkinna system.
Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina had come not only as Tiamata’s
representative but also as the distinguished emissary of the
Kadištu among our people. This put her in a position of
authority and she wanted to make this felt in no uncertain
terms.
Dressed in his customary white spacesuit, An made a
surprising show of enthusiasm. Anšár and Ninmah forced
smiles to conceal their animosity. Behind them stood Kišár,
whom I had not seen for a long time, flanked by four Mìmínu
(Greys) of neutral appearance. Lahmu and Lahamu were also
part of the welcoming committee, but stood far in the back,
almost hidden in the shadows. Their presence in Ubšu’ukkinna
was unexpected; they could not have arrived in Mulmul (the
Pleiades) very long ago. Enimin was the object of much
curiosity all around. My Alağní (clone) was recognized as a
technical feat and my Kuku (ancestors) were all very envious
of me.
The ratification did not take very long. The Didabbasar
(code of laws) was approved by all the parties and there was
no need to negotiate any special conditions. An, Anšár and
Ninmah, the creators and owners of the Anunna, signed the
Mardukù without the slightest hesitation. Kišár signed it
separately, followed by Lahmu and Lahamu. Mam and the
priestesses were somewhat taken aback by the ease and haste
of the proceedings.
The discussion was polite, only Ninmah addressed us
sternly and, I might even add, with a certain harshness and
reserve. Since our priestesses had abandoned Dukù and the
solar system of Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia in the Pleiades)
in such a dishonorable way, leaving the Anunna soldiers
without food, Ninmah ordered us to implement the accelerated
plan of development without further delay. She based her
request on decree ME 15/1-2-3, which she seemed to know by
heart. Her manner of speaking had changed somehow, giving
her mouth a very unsightly distortion. Her voice also had a
completely different ring to it, undulating in a way that made
me think that she spoke like a viper. Enimin stared
unabashedly at the priestess, literally going into resonance
with her words. This did not displease Ninmah in the least; on
the contrary, she deliberately overplayed the part, thus
betraying her tenseness. Her plan was becoming ever more
transparent. Ninmah also ordered Mamítu to produce female
Alağní (clones) in accordance with decrees ME 36/1-2 and
ME 37/1. At this, I recalled Tiamata’s words concerning the
mandatory Inim (approval) required for any priestess who
wanted to produce more Amašutum. Until then, the creators of
the Anunna had been blocked, possessing all the genetic
material and Siensišár (artificial wombs) necessary to clone
priestesses, but unable to start production without the approval
of Tiamata or her representative. As the queen had told me:
“An Amašutum cannot clone an Amašutum without prior
permission, the laws governing the production of females are
much stricter than those concerning males and other species.
The Nindiğir (priestesses) have great powers, which implies
weighty obligations.”
Ninmah suggested to Mam that she should clone two chief
priestesses to take charge respectively of the grain and
livestock production. Each of them would be at the head of
forty females to be produced as the needs of the two sectors
dictated: this involved agricultural work, such as the
production of Gig (wheat) and the raising of cattle to provide
for water, food and clothing. Mamítu did not completely agree
with the procedure and considered Ninmah’s options
incomplete. She suggested that Ka’áúè (corn) and Gada (flax)
also be cultivated so that the Anunna would be able to clothe
themselves with other materials than wool. Ninmah scoffed at
this and told her that we had no time to waste on cultivating
Ka’áúè and that the soil on Dukù was not humid enough to
grow Gada.
Mam objected that there were enough underground
rivers to make the soil suitable for the cultivation of Gada and
that she knew of certain varieties of Ka’áúè that had very short
planting cycles. The atmosphere in the room became tense,
because neither of the priestesses wanted to settle for a
compromise. My three Kuku (ancestors) observed the scene
with a certain amused detachment, as if they were enjoying
watching the two priestesses thrashing it out. I finally had to
intervene as executor of the implementation of the Mardukù,
citing ME 40/1-2. I arbitrated by promising that the respective
imperatives of each would be taken into consideration,
pointing out, however, that we would indeed cultivate Gada
(flax), because of its fine quality and ease in dyeing and
washing, as well as Ka’áúè (corn), which ripens relatively
quickly. An dryly admonished Ninmah not to try to
systematically impose her wishes; it was of the essence that
we come to an agreement on applying the terms of the
Mardukù.
Anšár chimed in to say that Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina
and I were the authors of the Mardukù and that, as such, it was
up to Ninmah to put herself at our service, and not the other
way around. Ninmah objected with a fierceness and harshness
that verged on spite. She could not help pointing out: “I am
the ruler here! My office will not be violated a second time!”
Nevertheless, under the increasingly menacing gaze of my
Kuku (ancestors), Ninmah, had no choice but to step down
and accept.
At the end of the meeting, Mam stared firmly at An and
Ninmah and asked them exactly how many mouths we would
have to feed. Seeing that they hesitated, she added that this
information was necessary in order to prepare a precise plan
for the number of plantations that would have to be built or
restored. The production of food was a very serious matter,
and Mam had to proceed with great rigor. The figure of 42,000
Alağní (clones) that had been mentioned by one of the Anunna
cropped up once again. Nonetheless, Kišár made it clear to his
partners that they would have to tell us the truth if we were to
work under conditions of mutual trust. Ninmah admitted that
there were other Anunna in the Ubšu’ukkinna system, in
particular on the planets of Éšárra and Ébabbar. These Alağní
were kept hidden from the observation of the Kadištu
(planners) deep in the Abzu of these two planets. The great
diversity of the Abzu in these two territories made them the
richest in the entire Ubšu’ukkinna system. The Anunna
dispersed on these planets did not need our help because they
could feed themselves adequately with their own produce.
Ninmah did not miss the opportunity to add that I would have
known this already and discovered the presence of the
clandestine Anunna myself if I had taken the trouble to pay my
Abzu a visit. I chose not to reply to her provocation. The total
number quoted by the priestess was in the vicinity of 900,000
individuals. Damkina insisted on having a more precise figure,
and Ninmah ended up with a total of a million and a half
clandestine Anunna! Mam and I were stunned.
My companion’s irritation became obvious when she asked
in an abrupt tone of voice whether this figure included the
Mušgir (Dragons) that had been created without the
knowledge of Tiamata and the council of Nalulkára. This
unexpected question caught the entire assembly off guard
except for Ninmah. Her eyes showed nothing but ill will. I had
to explain that I had become acquainted with the presence of
the Mušgir through an Anunna who had used the word
Mušhuš to designate my aggressor. Not knowing what to say,
my Kuku and Ninmah glanced at each other questioningly.
Mamítu-Nammu began to lose her patience again, she pressed
them in the name of the Gina’abul to tell us the whole truth
about this unwholesome initiative. Presently, Anšár spoke up
and admitted that they had indeed recreated some Mušgir for
the sake of providing more security for all the Gina’abul.
Mamítu replied that we could not trust these “winged
monsters” and that she did not wish to expose her priestesses
to them. Anšár tried to reassure her by saying that he had seen
to the programming of the new Mušgir and that they would
never be as aggressive as they had been in the past. Damkina
imprudently waved this aside and declared that she would
inform Tiamata, the council of Nalulkára and the Kadištu
about this state of affairs. To our astonishment, my two Kuku
started laughing so hard that their sides ached. Meanwhile,
Ninmah and the Mìmínu (Greys) did not take their eyes away
from us for a second.
This time it was my creator who lowered the boom: Here
is what he said, at least as far as I can recall: “Woe unto you,
Nammu! If you were to render yourself guilty of this deed, you
would be responsible for the death of all the Gina’abul and the
Kadištu. If Tigeme (Tiamata) were to find out about the
existence of the Mušgir in the system of Ubšu’ukkinna, do you
think that she would just sit around and do nothing? Do you
think that she would try to negotiate in order to save you? She
would have no consideration for the delegation and you would
all be sacrificed with the rest of us in battle. The only thing
that your deed would bring would be war and destruction to
the planners! Stick to the project that you have prepared to
develop the benefits of the civilization of the Ancient Serpent
among our Anunna. Help us bring new social castes into being
and to create a new pioneer society. You have no other
alternative, except the death of the members of your
delegation and of your lover, my descendant who is so rich in
resemblances. As for you, my son, Sa’am Nudímmud,
remarkable complement, supporter of the realities of the
independent world, you have splendidly accomplished your
mission. Use your abilities by putting yourself at the service of
the great effort of Reason. Lead the Anunna with your innate
sense of fairness. Your wisdom is equaled only by that of your
companion, with whom you will establish new modes of social
practice. From now on, you are the authority and the executive
power, the master of our new children. We grant you total
power and you will work in our name. The Mardukù will
guarantee our offsprings a social and cultural development, as
well as advanced industry and agriculture. It will give us the
guarantee of sufficient provisions and the promise of internal
security and peace. Damkina, you will be responsible for the
Nindiğir-Amašutum that you will produce in accordance with
the decrees of the Mardukù. You alone will be responsible for
eliciting their loyalty and their devotion to the Anunna.
Nudímmud will be your mainstay, and he will guarantee the
relationship and alliance between the planners and the
Anunna. As representatives of the Divine Order, you will both
be regularly summoned to our Assembly to report on the
implementation of the Mardukù. From now on, Dukù will be
the place from which, through your intermediary, the
Gina’abul living throughout the universe will receive the
instructions of the members of the Council of the Kuku
(ancestors). Do not disappoint us, delegates of the powers of
the Assembly of the Ubšu’ukkinna!”
Mam was filled with terror at these words. I saw her face
turn pale and her eyes darken. She would have liked to cry out
her objections and despair, but she pulled herself together, and
her control over her emotions took the upper hand. We had
fallen into the trap! We were irrevocably chained to the
Mardukù, the text that we had written in order to neutralize the
Anunna and their creators. Our efforts had been turned against
us and all of the priestesses. The room was charged with
hostility. Mamítu and I said nothing. We could think of no
reply, so deep was our stupor. In spite of all the evidence that I
had collected during my investigations and Anšár’s recent
revelations, I would never had thought that I had been so
thoroughly manipulated. I felt responsible for the entire
explosive situation. It was so irrevocable that nothing could
relieve me of my guilt.
 An looked at Enimin. Workers were needed now. My
creator would have wanted him to volunteer so that he could
purchase his entry into the Anunna society with deeds and
services rendered to the new Gina’abul monarchy. “Whoever
share our ideology will share our legacy,” he told him in an
amused tone of voice. I managed to mutter a few words to
make it clear once more that Enimin would be following my
orders, and mine alone. Mamítu took advantage of my reaction
to ask if the figure of 1,5 million included all the Mušgir as
well. Ninmah triumphantly revealed that there were 1,2
million Mušgir and that the ant-headed Mìmínu (Greys) in the
Ubšu’ukkinna presently numbered 750,000 individuals. Over a
million Mušgir, how could that be? Something in all of this did
not make sense… Still under the shock of what we had just
heard, we left the Uanna as if we had gotten a cold shower.
 The Time of the Development
of Grain and Cattle
“Corn is a spirit and its creation was divine.”
Book of the Hopi (17)

Δ
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-U-Eš
Very early the next morning, back on Dukù, Mam and I
undertook the implementation of the Mardukù. There was a lot
of work to be done. Our first task was to clone the priestesses
who would be entrusted with the development of grain and
cattle production. We had to appear before Ninmah, who, in
light of the circumstances, had proclaimed herself guardian of
the genetic heritage of Mulmul (the Pleiades).
The intensity of the light on Dukù contrasted so strongly
with the dark fabric worn by Ninmah that I almost felt a spell
of vertigo coming on. Unless this dizziness was due to the
unwholesome atmosphere that now pervaded the entire
planet… Ninmah insisted on participating actively in the
cloning of the priestesses, but Mami objected, claiming that
we were already enough to get this particular task done. My
companion suggested instead that she prepare suitable
lodgings for the new females. I took advantage of this
suggestion to order Enimin to assist Ninmah with this task. I
knew perfectly well what I was exposing my disciple to in
making such a move. Given the unexpected turn of events, I
chose the tack of using Enimin as live bait…
Damkina and I made selections from the genetic
material drawn from the reserves that Ninmah had illegally
removed from Ankida. We made our selection according to the
faculties and abilities needed for agricultural food-processing.
Mam opted against systematic consanguinity through a unique
genotype, for it would have impoverished the genetic pool of
the Amašutum initiators on Dukù. She preferred to maintain
diversity in our species, with a view to a future fusion of the
Nungal and the priestesses. The consanguinity of the male
Gina’abul, on the other hand, did not matter to her at all.
We proceeded with our cloning sessions in the capital
of Dukù, Urubàd, a city known for its broad avenues and
luxuriant gardens. It was also there that An had stored all of
the Siensišár (artificial wombs) that he had been able to
collect. We hardly ever had any free time to leave the
laboratory and stroll around the city. Time was once again of
the absolute essence. With the help of the priestesses in our
delegation, we harvested the egg cells that Mam and I had
programmed and then injected them into the Siensišár. As
agreed, we planned the creation of 82 Amašutum, half of them
earmarked to work in the grain production and the other half
with cattle. The two head priestesses in charge of the food
processing sector were cloned before the others, so that they
would be present when their sisters emerged fully formed. The
names given to these eminent females was related to their
future duties and functions. The priestess responsible for the
production of grain was called Šetir (lit. “profusion of grain“)
and her counterpart in charge of livestock was given the name
Udu’us (“sheep and ewe“). Mam took advantage of the fact
that no other male Gina’abul were present to agree on the
correspondence of these two names in Emešà (womb
language). We decided that Šetir’s secret name would be
Ašnan and that of Udu’us, Lahru. It was only then that Mam
realized that, although I now belonged to the world of the
Amašutum, I still did not have a secret name. She promised to
find one as soon as she had the opportunity.
We composed the various official titles of the
priestesses during the cloning sessions with the help of Šetir
and Udu’us. The whole operation ran quite smoothly; in just a
few Danna, we had our 80 specialists specially programmed to
develop the Mardukù. We had to think and take care of
everything, and then take the priestesses to the agricultural
establishments in the various cities throughout Dukù.
Our next concern was to renovate the buildings on the
abandoned agricultural plantations and make sure that the
equipment in the food production zones was in working order.
Some of the agricultural stations seemed to have been out of
use for many Muanna (years) and were in a dilapidated state.
Apparently, the production of food on Dukù had not been in
the hands of the Amašutum for quite some time.
A number of Mìmínu (Greys) were given the job of
clearing the arable land of the sloughed skins left by the
Anunna. They were supposed to give these organic remains to
the Amašutum, who preserved or destroyed them for reasons
that were still unknown to me at the time. We established an
inventory of the arable land and natural prairies in which the
cattle was to be raised. As soon as we had all the necessary
information, we were able to keep statistics and undertake new
cloning sessions to produce the basic livestock that would then
be left to reproduce itself naturally. I did not participate in this
particular task, but left it up to Damkina and some of the
priestesses. With the help of Šetir (the priestess for the grain)
and her 40 sisters, we set out to begin with the production of
grain.
I made a point of enlisting Enimin’s help in order to
extricate him momentarily from Ninmah’s clutches of. My
ulterior motive in doing this was to build up a certain tension
in the priestess and whet her appetite. In one of my talks with
her, she had only positive things to say about my Alağní
(clone). She confided that she was very impressed with his
intelligence and refined manner of speaking. Ninmah wanted
to change my disciple’s name—which was in fact only a
production number—and give him a worthier appellation. I
granted her this exceptional privilege so as to please her. She
suggested the name Enlíl, which means “lord of the breath” or,
more exactly, “the lord who has the breath of speech and
language“. I found this a very judicious choice and approved it
on the spot.
Enimin was a very eloquent speaker and never missed
an opportunity to show off his knowledge. He liked to impress
his circle of friends and flatter his ego, which was inflated
enough at the time, but he had calmed down some after I
enjoined him not to speak without reason. Enlíl was a perfect
name for him: I could not have found a better one myself!
 Before going more deeply into the agricultural aspects
of our work, the priestesses initiated me into the fundamentals
of their terminology relative to plantations. Emešà (womb
language) has many technical terms for each profession and
type of work. The profession of the Santana[71] alone had a
great number of them.
Another of our tasks at this stage was to have certain
stretches of land cleared and made suitable for the cultivation
of Ka’áúè (corn). The cultivation of Gig (wheat) was a more
complicated matter, because this type of grain does not do well
where the land has been recently cleared. We had to estimate
the amount of water that would be needed to cultivate the
Ka’áúè under the best possible conditions. The type of Ka’áúè
(corn) that we wanted to plant was said to be fond of having
its feet in water and its head in the sun. It rained occasionally
on Dukù, but this was obviously not the right season to expect
water just to fall from the sky. This made it necessary for us to
draw water from the springs known to be under the city, as
well as to build reservoirs and a system of irrigation ditches.
We eventually saw that there we were too few to get
everything done and so we had to enlist the assistance of the
Anunna. The poor creatures were still considerably weak, and
some even had trouble standing up. Although the Mìmínu
(Greys) had moved their enclosures so that they would have
access to fresh land, they were still suffering from hunger!
Ninmah refused to give me her permission to use the Anunna
under the pretext that they were not yet apt for heavy work.
That seemed all the stranger as she had claimed a few days
before that they were perfectly able to carry arms… Thanks to
this clever ploy, Ninmah had a good excuse to keep them
beyond the reach of our surveillance a little longer. I never
doubted for a moment that this tactic was meant to hide a
closely guarded secret.
We were still a long way from being able to harvest
any grain, and the urgency of the situation forced me to take
provisional measures. I remembered Ninmah telling us that, in
the Abzu (subterranean worlds) of the planets Éšárra and
Ébabbar, the Anunna could feed on the fruits that grew there.
It was impossible to travel between these planets without
drawing the attention of the Kadištu (planners) orbiting above
us, so I decided to look for a Gigirlah (sparkling wheel) and
visit Dukù’s Abzu. I had a hard time finding one because the
type of craft used the most often on this planet was the
accursed Mú’u, which I still hated!
The subterranean world of Dukù is not very rich in
fruit trees, but there was enough fruit on hand to make the
Anunna hold out for another few days. Several Danna (hours)
after my inspection, I organized an expedition with as many
priestesses as possible to gather as much food as we could.
After six days of intensive fruit picking, we loaded our
precious cargo into the Mága’an (freight vessel), flew back to
the surface and then let the Mìmínu (Greys) distribute the fruit
to the Anunna.
During this time, Šetir (the priestess of the grain) had
prepared the seeds of the Ka’áúè (corn), which has a growth
cycle of about sixty days on Uraš (Earth). Both Mamí and
Šetir knew the secrets of cultivating this hybrid type of
Ka’áúè, which had very high yields in the bargain. The
exceptionally high nutritional value of the Ka’áúè made it the
perfect solution to our problem: the albumen of the grains was
very high in sugars and proteins, and the stems contained
reserves of high-energy molecules from photosynthetic
processes, making them the ideal food to strengthen the
Anunna. We ate not only the grains of corn, but also the stalks,
which the females especially liked. Thanks to the climatic
conditions on Dukù and the short planting cycles of this type
of Ka’áúè, this was the first kind of grain that we used to feed
An’s children.
The milk of the bovines also made a major contribution
to the nutrition of the famished Alağní (clones). The first
animals produced in the Siensišár (artificial womb) were
allowed to graze on the prairies of the new farms. Each of
these farms was subdivided into several production units that
was worked by four to five priestesses. Production on the
various farms increased gradually. The Amašutum were
clearly master agriculturists. The frequent harvesting and
picking, the operation of the dairies, the delivery of various
agricultural products, the organization of the feeding of the
animals, the recording of their population, the accounting of
the production and the local consumption, all of this was done
in a very short space of time and using very few mechanical
devices. It was a veritable technological feat.
 An’s Fateful Plan
“When the Demiurge usurped one of the Mother’s powers,
the impudent one knew nothing of the beings above the
Mother.
For he said that the Mother was the only one to exist.
Seeing the multitude of angels that he had created,
he felt that he surpassed them.”
The Secret Book of John, the Berlin Gnostic Codex
B45:19-B46:9 (18)

₪
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Min-ME-U-
Limmu
Still under the obligation of providing for the increasingly
pressing needs of the Anunna, we urgently had to clone more
priestesses. However, our work was paying off. With each
passing day, thanks to our unrelenting efforts, An’s Alağní
(clones) were feeling better and better. Now it was important
for me to organize their schedule, for Anunna can become
irritable and uncontrollable if they are left idle for too long. It
was a good thing that part of their standard programming
included following my instructions. I decided to have them
participate in cultivating the food for the priestesses. The
results were not always very good and there was occasional
friction, for my creator’s Alağní were naturally lazy and
innately hostile to the Amašutum. At the time, our priestesses
and the Anunna were still forbidden to have any close contact;
in fact, everything was done through the intermediary of the
Mìmínu (Greys).
The situation had become more stable now, and I took
advantage of the respite to secretly study an Anunna in more
detail. I had not had the opportunity to do so before. I picked
one at random and had him brought to my apartment, which I
also used as an ad hoc laboratory. The specimen was not very
relaxed, though I did my best to put him at ease. Upon close
examination I was surprised to observe a number of
discrepancies between us. For one thing, he was slightly
smaller than me. His skin was darker, more coarse and had
more scales. His eyes also seemed to have more red in them
than mine. But my greatest surprise came when I examined his
lower pelvis. The skin had a strange protuberance there, as if
something were hidden underneath… “What is that?” I asked
him. The Alağní answered tersely, “A Ğèš (penis), noble
Lugal (master).” I was stunned. Naively, I asked him if his
Ğèš were operational. The Anunna replied in the affirmative.
Seeing my astonishment, the specimen proudly declared that
the Alağní that were concentrated in Zagdu actually had both
polarities. To hide my disappointment, I glanced furtively at
one of his hands to see if it also bore the mark of Gagsisá
(Sirius) like mine: they didn’t!
I ordered the Anunna to leave my apartment and pondered
for a while in the semi-darkness. The Anunna had their sex
hidden under their skin, they presented the same anatomical
characteristics as our ancestors, the Mušidim. Why? Certainly,
I embodied the first copy of their line, with the addition of
Ušumgal dispositions, however, despite our apparent
resemblance, we were quite different. Here was yet another
enigma—as if I did not already have enough to deal with. I
seemed to be a neutral prototype that belonged to neither sex,
even if most people took me for a male. It was another matter
altogether for the Anunna: some were of the male gender and
others were bipolar; that is, they had both genders, which
meant that they partook of the universal principle of
androgyny. And what about the million and a half Anunna
who had been spirited away to the Abzu of the planets Éšárra
and Ébabbar? What gender did they belong to?
I was not feeling particularly well when I left the building.
The sharp contrast between the coolness of the apartment and
the heat on Dukù made me shiver. I hastened to see Mam and
her sisters to report my unusual discoveries. Walking on a
thick carpet of grass, I passed by the luxuriant parks and
eventually reached a small production unit next to a pond lined
with reeds of all sizes. If memory serves, Mamítu was working
on a selection procedure for sheep that she wanted to cross
with a race that was unknown to me in order to improve their
yield in wool.
My news upset the priestesses as much as it had me. Being
unable to see the Anunna close up, the small group of
Amašutum there had a hard time even imagining anything of
the sort. But it was a fact: I had been the only one to have had
any close dealings with the Alağní (clones) in the city of
Adhal so far. Their hostility to the priestesses limited their
contacts to the Ušumgal and the Mìmínu (Greys). Mamítu
asked me to leave immediately for the Abzu of Ébabbar and
Éšárra and find out the exact nature of the clandestine Anunna.
Apart from the novelty that this information might provide, I
could not understand why it was so urgent to be certain about
their gender. My companion replied in the following terms:
“We all know that the male individuals are much more
aggressive than individuals endowed with a dual polarity. We
absolutely must know the sexual identity of the Alağní hidden
in the Abzu of the planets Éšárra and Ébabbar. We will decide
according to the information that you bring back to us.”
In the meantime, my companion would go to the city
of Zagdu and examine the androgynous Anunna there. I was
not surprised to hear this because I knew that androgyny was
one of Mamítu-Nammu’s specialties; she had studied it on
Uraš (Earth). I found the little Gigirlah that I had used a few
days before to inspect the Abzu on Dukù, but wanted to fly it
to the two other planets this time. I had never had to program a
Gigirlah for the purposes of interplanetary flight before. I
knew the basics of the procedure, but preferred getting
confirmation from one of the guards of the Diranna (star gate)
of the city of Adhal. At first I saw no one in the vicinity of the
gate. I landed my craft and was greeted by two typically gray-
complexioned Mìmínu who seemed to have appeared out of
nowhere. They communicated with me using
Kinsağ (telepathy): “All flights have been cancelled until
further notice at the express order of Lugal An, Anšár and the
Very Holy Ninmah.” one of them informed me. Seeing me
looking intently at the Diranna, his companion told me that the
gate had been deactivated for our protection, like all the other
star gates on Dukù. Indeed, the temperature at the periphery of
the gate was strangely high, probably due to a permutation of
the magnetic induction, a sure sign that the Diranna had been
closed artificially.
Being unable to visit the far end of the Ubšu’ukkinna, as
well as the Abzu of the other planets, I decided to fly to my
creator and try to get the necessary information directly from
him. I climbed back into my craft without saying a word and
lost no time in getting free of Dukù’s gravitational pull. An’s
Uanna was in stationary orbit opposite the northeast quadrant
of the planet. After a brisk flight through space, I docked my
Gigirlah on the main platform of An’s vessel. After leaving the
decompression chamber, my reflexes again took the upper
hand. I was familiar enough with the premises by now to find
my way easily through the corridors of the Uanna: 212 steps
across the main hangar, then a right turn, 18 steps through a
small tunnel, then down a flight of steps on a metal staircase,
52 steps to the elevator, descend to sublevel 5, exit to the left
and take another 34 steps toward the south entrance of the
large room housing the main generator in its framework of
thick, transparent Plexiglas. I could rely only on my sense of
orientation. Although my notions of movement were very
precise, they corresponded not to my own perception but to the
reality programmed by my father-creator. In fact, the number
of steps I had in memory were those of An, and not mine,
which were shorter and therefore more numerous.
I was sure that I would find An somewhere nearby. My
creator was very fond of coming here, because it was in fact a
huge greenhouse containing a large variety of botanical
specimens that gave off pleasant scents. My father liked to
stroll there according to his moods. The vibrations caused by
the generator, and especially by the anti-gravitational system,
had a very beneficial effect on the plants and caused them to
grow uncommonly large. “Well, my son, supreme authority
and executor of the Mardukù. To what do I owe the honor of
your visit?” Only after hearing these words did I see An
emerge out of a green thicket. There was no sign of emotion
on his face. Being unable to use the power of the Níama
against another Ušumgal, I could get no information from the
quality of his gaze: it reflected no inner tension:
“ I have come to talk with you about the Anunna, father.
- So be it! I am listening. But before you say anything
else, I would like to congratulate you on your good
work. The Anunna on Dukù are doing splendidly,
thanks to you. You succeeded in combining daring and
reason in the name of the Gina’abul. We are all very
proud of you.”
I hesitated for a moment. His praise did not interest me in
the least, since I had implemented the decrees of the Mardukù
under duress and for no other reason. This accursed text had
been perverted in favor of the male Ušumgal. I went straight to
the point, as I had been taught to do by the Amašutum:
“Since I cannot travel to my Abzu on Éšárra and Ébabbar
owing to an ill-timed closing of the Diranna on Dukù, I would
like you to tell me about the exact nature of the Anunna that
were settled on my land without my permission.
- I understand your bitterness my son. We can discuss
all of this very calmly in two Ud (days), before the
assembly at which Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina and you
will be able to report on the progress of your
wonderful work.
- No, father! I am not going to wait another two Ud for
information that is due to me in any case. I’d like you
to be a little more cooperative. You have not been very
honest with me. The more I find out, the more I get the
unpleasant feeling of being no more than a tool in your
hands. Anšár even said as much just before signing the
Mardukù.
- You have never ceased to impress me, my child, day
by day. You are truly a remarkable being. It’s like
hearing Mamítu herself. You’re perfect, just perfect…”
An began staring at me in amazement, with wide open
eyes. I had no idea what he was talking about. Was he
suddenly approving of my companion and the influence that
she had on me? He went on:
“I have big plans for you, my son. Don’t bother with
Anšár, he is too ambitious and his time has run out… glory is
the prerogative of youth! Since we have given you complete
power, you are working in our name, of course. However, you
are working above all for the sake of the head of the dynasty
of the Anunna. You are the one who will execute my
directives. Don’t make me lose face, my son!
- I have no desire to do so, father. But if you want to
avoid that, you’ll have to tell me what I need to know.
- Of course, he said. It is a very simple calculation:
there are 900,000 Anunna on Éšárra, all of whom are
of the male polarity. On Ébabbar, there are 600,000
Alağní (clones) of dual polarity. There you have it: the
information that you wanted.
- Why have you withheld these facts so far? Why did
you pretend that the Anunna were asexual and why
didn’t you keep your word before the assembly of the
Ušumgal? Not only that, but why did you create me
without any polarity? I was supposed to be the first
specimen of the Anunna, and not only am I not like
them at all but I even have differences compared to
you!”
Saying that, I showed him my right hand and spread my
fingers so that he could see the sign of Gagsisá (Sirius):
“So many questions, my son, my child! Yes, it’s true, I do
not have this peculiarity, An replied. Didn’t I tell you that I
created you as an exceptional being? Indeed, you bear the sign
of Gagsisá (Sirius) and of the Abgal (Sages). The Abgal are
not warriors, didn’t you know that? Therefore, I could never
have created Anunna with you as a model. You are a very
special Gina’abul, Sa’am, being both Abgal and endowed with
the powers of an Ušumgal. You are unique, the most capable
creature that I have ever created, but you must remain an
Anunna in the eyes of our kind! As for the soldiers, we would
never have gotten Tigeme’s permission if I had told her that I
wanted to produce Alağní (clones) with a male polarity. Don’t
you understand that, my son?”
Part of the veil of mystery that had been surrounding my
creation had suddenly been lifted. All the searching, all these
doubts, only to come to this. The only thing I had to do to find
out the truth was to raise my voice a little. I had forgotten how
much my creator liked being confronted with an adversary of
equal strength. Then I asked him the inevitable question:
“According to my information, the Abgal are highly
respected in our universe. How did you manage to obtain the
genetic material of such illustrious beings without getting
permission beforehand? Which Abgal ancestor did you use in
order to create me?
- You’re wrong, my son, I obtained a perfectly
legitimate authorization. You don’t have to know
which Abgal served as the archetype for you; that
would tell you nothing more, and might even hinder
you. My wish is for you to be in the best possible
condition to devote yourself to the application of the
Mardukù and the coordination of the Nindiğir
(priestesses). Are they loyal to us?”
Like all clever leaders, An had the irritating habit of
jumping from one subject to another. For a few instants I felt a
sort of liking for him, but this sudden change of subject
reminded me of his real intentions and the foul play that he
had used in order to get the permission to produce the Anunna.
The priestesses were at his mercy now, and I was responsible
for their submission:
“Yes, they are, I answered. But this is still an explosive
situation. They are afraid there might be war.
- They have nothing to worry about, Nudímmud, we
will be able to protect them from the Kadištu
(planners) should they try to attack us.
- You forget the fact that they belong to the Kadištu
themselves. The matter is not that simple.
 - And that is precisely our advantage! The Kadištu
have their eye on Dukù and have surely taken stock of
how many Nindiğir (priestesses) we have at our
service now. They will never take the risk of attacking
us and sacrificing the hundreds of priestesses cloned in
the name of the Mardukù. In any case, you can forget
the Kadištu, my son. They are absolutely of no use to
us. They don’t matter!”
Why bother discussing with him any further. An had eyes
only for his terrible plan and had absolutely no regard for the
forces of the planners of our universe. Who could have made
him change his mind? I asked him just the same:
“You think that war is inevitable, don’t you?
- War will spread to the heart of the Gina’abul
colonies if the ancient matriarchal religion of Tigeme
(Tiamata) and the Kadištu persists in forcing their
ludicrous universal law on the rest of us! It’s
completely groundless. If the Anunna can be assured
of maintaining their patrilineal system, nothing will
break the peace. What do you think? Your
grandmother and her daughter Nammu dream about
the ancient days belonging to the thought system of
Barbélú, the Mother of the Origins. They will be
drawn into her fall! Both worship an illusion produced
from the chaos of the Dark Queen’s barren matter. Do
not take part in any of their masses which they call
Mysteries and no initiatory exploits. All of this will
lose you in their bottomless nothingness and I won’t
be able to do anything for you. Limit yourself to the
proximity of Nammu, she has a secret that we must
uncover. She made a pact with the Dark Queen, the
Mother of Origins, and you must find out what it is.
Her mind, like her mother’s, remains totally
impenetrable to our attempts to foray. This secret
concerns the Primordial Matrix, a name the Ušumgal
males use to designate the material reality hidden
behind this mystery. Nammu has something concrete,
physical, which allows the Amašutum to carry on the
thought of the Dark Queen. I designed you to unravel
 this mystery and help us destroy it. This is your task
my son!”
The Universe seemed to collapse around me. I left An and
his mothership in the greatest bewilderment. What was I to
discover that was so crucial for the Ušumgal males?
An’s words made a lot of sense. Still, I knew his plan.
What would be the price for such a folly? At the risk of
dividing the Gina’abul and confronting the planners, my
creator wanted to impose a mode of kinship based upon
patrilineal descent. It went completely against the grain of the
laws of our universe ever since the Great War between the
Mušgir (Dragons) and the ancient lineage of the Amašutum
that dwells in the constellation of Urbar’ra (Lyra). My creator
had apparently become so disconnected from reality that he
could no longer distinguish between good and evil. He had cut
himself off from life and despised it so much that he created
automats made of flesh and blood to serve his purposes.
An and his acolytes did not acknowledge the Original
Source. At any rate, they attached no importance whatsoever
to the Supreme Source that Mam had so often told me about;
the Source from which we all come and which is worshipped
by all of the Kadištu (planners). They seem to have been
completely misinformed as to the presence of a universal
entity called the “Original Source,” the creator of all things,
since they considered themselves to be the real gods. The
abysmal madness of the situation was right there, in front of
my nose: the male and female Gina’abul did not practice the
same religion. The major point of contention between them
was a matter of belief and worship. But also, of two
civilizations separated by different space-time, by the dream of
Barbélú …
Part Three REVELATIONS
AND HOSTILITIES
 The Tension Begins
“Whoever lies down and sleeps during the meeting will be
suspended for thirty days
and have his rations cut for ten days…
Whoever laughs in a silly way and loud enough to be heard
will be suspended for thirty days and will have his rations
cut for five days…
Whoever rejects a decision of the Council of the
community must leave and never return… Whoever criticizes
his fathers must leave the congregation and never return…”
Qumran Scrolls, “Prescription relative to punishments
for infraction of the rules,”
Excerpts 4Q266 Frag. 18 and 4Q270 Frag. 11(11)

▼
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-Dili
The tense atmosphere of the last few Danna (hours) made
it necessary for me to reinforce the cohesion of our priestesses.
In all likelihood, the events to come would be difficult for all
of us. I could not accept the situation, as I could not betray our
queen, my companion and the spirit of Barbélú with which I
was gradually familiarizing myself.
My creator’s plan to turn the Amašutum into docile
servants of the new Anunna dynasty called for the subjection
of the females and their forced conversion to the male’s way of
thinking—something that I could not accept. An apparently
did not know that I had been initiated into the community of
the Amašutum and that I now belonged to the realm of the
priestesses. In fact, my devotion to their cause had become
unconditional.
I gave Nammu the information that I had been able to
obtain concerning the Anunna contingents on Éšárra and
Ébabbar. The 900,000 Anunna of male polarity were simply
900,000 too many. Mamita-Nammu deemed it essential to
contact the Kadištu (planners) and apprise them of the
situation as soon as possible—but how? All the lines of
communication on Dukù were interrupted at the moment. Our
only chance would be by means of Kinsağ (telepathy), but,
except for Ninmah, none of the priestesses had this ability.
Strange and unfathomable as she was, Ninmah did not seem to
be trustworthy in the least. There was no doubt that she had
become intimate with my creator and made the sacred Šàzu
(midwife) of the Anunna. She would never betray An, nor was
she prepared to relinquish any of the power that she had
gained on Dukù, much less the veneration that she received
from her offsprings. This meant that I would have to
communicate with the planners myself. Mamítu would have
preferred that I contact Tiamata directly, but this would have
been impossible for me to do through Kinsağ (telepathy).
More exactly, I felt that it lay beyond my powers, for the
Anduruna System was much too far away. I suggested
therefore that the message be sent first to the Kadištu, with a
request to forward it to our queen. After having gotten myself
in the right condition and adjusted the range to the ships of the
Confederation, I sent the following message: “Declaration
from Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina, coordinator of the Kadištu on
Uraš, communication transmitted by Sa’am-Nudímmud, son of
An. Message to be forwarded a.s.a.p. to Tiamata, supreme
ruler of the Gina’abul. Mardukù commandments amended to
the advantage of the Anunna. 22 members Amašutum
commission + 206 Nindiğir especially designed for the
application of the Mardukù held forcibly in the power of the
Ušumgal. Danger of conflict. 20,000 male Anunna distributed
in the cities of Adhal and Urubàd, and 22,000 Anunna of dual
polarity in Zagdu. 900,000 male Anunna in the Abzu of Éšárra
+ 600,000 Anunna of dual polarity in the Abzu of Ébabbar. +
750,000 Mìmínu spread over the planets of Dukù, Éšárra and
Ébabbar and 1.2 million Mušgir distributed in the Abzu of
Dukù, Éšárra and Ébabbar. Awaiting your instructions.”
On the next day, Mam and I took our places at the
Assembly of the Ubšu’ukkinna without having received any
answer from the Kadištu yet. I had slept poorly that night; the
few Danna (hours) of rest that I had permitted myself to take
had not brought the hoped-for relaxation. Not only that, but I
had a disconcerting dream in which I saw our Nungal turned
into birds and flying into the sky, only to fall to the ground like
stones in a lifeless, eerie wasteland. This nightmare lingered in
my mind until we finally gathered for the Assembly. I did not
mention any of this to Damkina, who was an expert in the
interpretation of dreams. Nevertheless, my companion’s fine
instincts quickly sensed my troubled state of mind.
We were both ridden with doubts: had the message gotten
through at all? I tried to be optimistic, but until an answer
came, I could not be sure. I told Mam and the priestesses who
were going to attend the Assembly not to think about this
matter at all in the presence of the Ušumgal. This was a fateful
moment for the Amašutum and for myself, and I remember it
all too well. It was at this session that I began sitting in the
upper rows of the council room.
The halls for our debates were built in the form of
amphitheaters; semicircular stone constructions with stepped
rows of seats. The one at Adhal was located in the vicinity of
the royal apartments and had no roof, like a courtyard. The
males and the Ušumgal had their places in the rows at the
bottom. The middle tiers were reserved for the priestesses, and
the top tiers were for guests—if there happened to be any. By
sitting deliberately in the top rows of the amphitheater, instead
of at my assigned seat next to my creator and the Ušumgal, I
was openly acknowledging my disagreement with my Kuku
(ancestors). Mamítu’s face fell when she saw what I had done.
I have an impulsive side that sometimes makes me do things
spontaneously, without thinking about the consequences. My
disapproval of the amendments that had been brought to the
Mardukù fully justified my gesture.
Enimin, or rather Enlíl, as he was now called, had been
summoned to this session by the Ušumgal and he entered the
Assembly hall with us. His conduct toward Ninmah and his
assistance in distributing food to the Anunna had been very
appreciated by my Kuku, and so he was invited to sit in the
front rows with the Ušumgal. At the latter’s behest, Mam was
asked to report on the progress in the application of the
Mardukù. She did this in plain and precise terms. I paid only
cursory attention to her report because I was too distracted by
the spectacle given by my high vantage point. When it came
time for me to present the results of our efforts, the Assembly
found me slumped in my seat, dozing off. I told them very
cheerfully that I had never had so much fun in my entire, if
brief, existence, but that my jubilation had made me somewhat
tired. Since I could not guarantee that I would be able to
maintain the necessary decorum in front of such an august
assembly, I begged Mamítu-Nammu to present the information
in my place. The Ušumgal were completely dumbfounded and
exchanged questioning glances. Some, like Kišár and Ninmah,
were so surprised that they could not mentally conceal their
perplexity. This gave me the opportunity to intercept a
fragment of Ninmah’s thoughts: “He is too dangerous for our
plans…” The session was resumed, but the atmosphere was
heavy and out of joint. I did not intervene at all in the
discussion, but left it up to Mam to act as liaison between the
patriarchal Ušumgal and the matriarchal Amašutum. Although
I did not say a word, I followed the discussions closely and
with great interest. From their seats far below, my Kuku kept
casting furtive glances in my direction. They were all
consumed by a single thought: I was an undesirable agitator.
I had caused my creator to lose face, but at least the
abscess had finally been pierced. In a matter of moments, I had
been demoted from the status of a hero to that of a mere
Alağní (clone), and a rather imperfect one at that. Following
the debate, Ninmah and An tried to reason with me at the foot
of the wide staircase of the Great Council. In vain ! Nammu
and Enlíl supported me as best they could, without really
succeeding in calming the spirits of my creator and the
sovereign of Dukù.
 55. From left to right, An, Sa’am, Ninmah, Nammu and
Enlíl, discuss at the foot of the grand staircase leading to the
Hall of the Great Council.
 Now that things had been made clear, I had to respond
to Ninmah’s mistrust with some deeds worthy of my newly-
revealed abilities. After leaving the Assembly, I took the
hazardous measure of asking the Amašutum to reduce their
production of food surreptitiously. We had to gain time at all
costs, and since we were in no position to weaken the Anunna
on Éšárra and Ébabbar, at least we could slow down the ones
on Dukù.
I was faced with a further problem: Enlíl, my faithful
Alağní, was climbing the social echelons of my Kuku much
too fast for my taste. His close relationship with Ninmah might
very well backfire against us. I ordered him to return to the
Amašutum quarters, while taking the precaution of instructing
the priestesses in how to deal with my disciple from now on.
Under no circumstances were they to reveal our plans to him;
above all, they were to keep him busy and under close
surveillance. Of course, Ninmah did not take well to these new
arrangements. I was told later that this separation plunged her
into a state of bitterness and ennui. She had obviously become
very attached to Enlíl.
Plagued by solitude, Ninmah finally came to see me
three days after I had decided to recall my disciple. We met
under the three palm trees shading the small garden that my
companion had improvised for her own use. On this small plot
of land bordered by aromatic myrtle bushes, Mam cultivated
our vegetables and fruit with her usual loving care. Damkina
was busy working on her plants and did not even bother to
look up to acknowledge the arrival of the glum priestess.
Ninmah’s slender figure was admirably molded in a
vermilion-colored dress with gold fringes. The saffron-colored
fabric draped across her breasts harmonized perfectly with her
orange-tinted lipstick. I immediately understood that she was
driven by a very specific desire. Her gaze expressed both
languor and determination, but her eyes were silent. To my
surprise, Ninmah greeted me with a curtsy, filling the air with
the sensual fragrance of her jasmine and lotus perfume. Since
she could not use her Níama against me, she tried to influence
me with hypnomagnetism, a technique that made it possible to
project one’s thoughts into another person through an intense
and suggestive gaze. With this method the subconscious of the
other person could be directly addressed. All priestesses learn
to master this technique, and I had been taught it myself by
Mamítu. I played along with great relish.
Ninmah sidled up to me and spoke in a gentle tone of
voice, but her sweetness only made me increase my vigilance.
There was no doubt as to the nature of her desire, so uncouth
was her manner of expression, yet there was also something
touching about it all. Training her hypnotic gaze on me,
Ninmah tried her best to convey the expectancy of certain
sensations and impress me with her will. She stared at me
intently, went through the motions of her rehearsed gestures
and then came to the point: “Nudímmud, son of An, your
savoir-faire is equaled only by your celebrated wisdom. As an
Ušumgal and Šàzu [midwife] of our new lineage, you owe me
consideration and obedience. I have need of your noble
creature Enlíl. Give me your mixed-blood and I will be your
ally forever.”
I smiled at this, yet without dropping my serious
demeanor; Ninmah was the kind of female who got upset over
the slightest things. I was well aware of her power and
influence, but I answered simply that Enlíl had to perform
several tasks for us before I could think about making any
other plans for him. I added that I would surely refrain from
taking any decisions on his behalf as long as I was prevented
from using the Diranna (star gates) that I needed to use to visit
my Abzu on Éšárra and Ébabbar, as she herself had suggested.
Ninmah mumbled something in Emešà, of which I caught only
the word “Šahîtu,” the equivalent of Míšah (sow) in our
common tongue. I had never seen this exotic animal, but could
easily imagine what its face must look like. I suddenly heard
my companion’s voice from the back of her small garden,
sternly reprimanding Ninmah. I did not need to know all the
subtleties of the priestesses’ language to understand that
Nammu had called Ninmah a “Šakkatiru,” that is a “Kundara”
(dark lizard). Her eyes ablaze, Ninmah pretended to take this
in stride and parried by telling me that she knew a secret about
me and that she was prepared to reveal it if I would grant her
request. I was cautious and simply reminded her of my
conditions. Ninmah did an about face and left with a rapid, but
unsteady gait.
When our eyes met again, Damkina told me not to pay
any attention to Ninmah’s insinuations. With a hint of malice,
she said that “my sexuality had made the rounds of Dukù and
had apparently captivated her sister’s imagination”. This
topic about my sexual organ was upsetting. Regarded as an
object of curiosity and, moreover, too often compared to
Nungals, Enlíl seemed remarkable… I was looked upon by
everyone as a curiosity and, to make matters worse, all too
often compared with my Alağní (clone), Enlíl, who seemed to
be so perfect. I had created him slightly taller than myself and
with very pleasant features. Was I also pleasant to look at with
my Abgal physiognomy? Enlíl’s intellect and his energy
singled him out as a future leader and guide of the Gina’abul.
In those critical times, my supposed knowledge and wisdom
did not weigh very much in the balance, compared to the
promising destiny of his own progressive fervor. The
priestesses around me were constantly praising my charm, but
could I believe them when Mamítu never stopped telling me
that the inside was more important than the externals?
 At the Crux of the Dimensions:
the Nature of the Gina’abul KUR
and KI
“A person who is among the Jiné (the ‘spirits’) can see
us, but we cannot see them. There is like a veil that hides the
realm of the Jiné from us…
The world of the Jiné is located between that of the
Mèlèkè (‘Angels’)
and that of humans, and is conceived as a replica of the
human world…
When the Jiné appear in human form to normal people,
the phenomenon may go unnoticed at the time, and those
concerned realize only afterwards that they were involved with
a Jiné. In such a case, the fear after the fact will not drive the
subject to insanity.
It is the fear of the person faced with a Jiné that makes
them lose their mind…
Besides, you do not even have to see the Jiné.
Hearing him speak, passing through the heat that it
radiates is enough to make you go mad. In some cases they are
hot whirlwinds that swirl through the brush, raising dust along
their way… Farima, a young patient of nineteen speaks of her
Jiné in these terms:
‘At night, I see the Jiné, his name was Abdulayeh. He
is a man and he wants me. He comes to sleep with me and, in
the morning, he goes away. If you do not love him, he takes
you to the other Jiné, it is as if you were dead, let’s say that
you are dead… It was under these conditions that I was
afraid… He comes as a screen, like at the movies.
If I tell his name to anyone, he will hurt me…’”
From a healer in Mali, Bambara tribe (19)

₪
 Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-Min
I was in no condition to tolerate Enlíl’s increasing
emulation, which was generated mostly by the ongoing
situation. I had not brought up the matter of the Diranna to
Ninmah without reason. A few Danna before, I had finally
received an answer from the Kadištu (planners) demanding us
to grant them access to the Diranna of Dukù immediately. The
planners could not penetrate into the planet without first
gaining access to the star gates.
Throughout the ages, the Diranna had always been of vital
importance, not only as a means of interplanetary travel, but
also as interdimensional passageways to other planes of
reality. Since the Kadištu did not have the same vibrational
frequency as the Gina’abul, most of them had never been able
to sojourn in the same dimensions as ours. Among the
Gina’abul, only a few Amašutum were supposed to have the
ability to reach the fourth dimension, but could go no further
than that.
Creation is composed of a large number of dimensions,
or intervals, occupying the same continuous space, like
frequencies along the electromagnetic spectrum. In every solar
system, each planet is composed of several juxtaposed and
interlocking dimensions. Think of a sheet of paper with a
surface of specific grain as representing our three-dimensional
universe: we are like butterflies pressed against this sheet of
paper, and above and below would be other sheets of paper
with a different kind of grain. The sheet of paper on which we
exist is like a springboard to the other dimensions and a
universe in its own right and with its own particular resonance,
like all the other “paper” universes. The problem presently
facing the Kadištu (planners) was that when a star gate was
locked in the KI dimension,[72] then all of the other
dimensions of the planet were also blocked! For this reason,
planners who would otherwise have been able to sojourn in
our macrocosm were often completely unable to access our
dimension.
Our race has always lived in dimensions that were lower
than those frequented by the Kadištu. The Gina’abul have
been living for many Limamu (millennia) in a world limited to
three dimensions, or four, if we add the time factor to the three
spatial dimensions generally recognized. We call this
dimension the KI (3rd dimension).
 56- Subdivision of the three lower dimensional worlds.
The third one, the KI, corresponds to the dimension in
which humanity lives on Earth today.
 The Gina’abul have mastered the techniques of travelling
between the lower dimensions by means of spherical devices
that emit various frequencies. As far as I can remember, we
always called these objects “Gúrkur”. These devices enabled
one to move between different dimensions, but were limited to
the lower dimensions; the highest one being the KI, or the
third dimension starting from the bottom. This frequency is
considered by the Kadištu to be the highest among the “lower
astral” dimensions and it has the same characteristics as the
one in which the three-dimensional creation on Uraš (Earth)
[73] exists.

The realm of the “lower astral” is not that of the planners,

but our own; that of the Gina’abul. For some, this description
has dark and gloomy associations, but this is not the case at
all[74]. This world is similar to the three-dimensional one; it
has mountains, lakes, forests, deserts, etc., but is invisible,
owing to its particular vibration. However, light is different
there, as are sensory perceptions. In the language of the
Gina’abul, this realm is called KUR. An analysis of this term
clarifies its original meaning[75]. The KUR is invisible to the
creatures living in the KI, for it is situated well beyond their
three-dimensional perception. The KUR represents the nucleus
of a system derived from the secret ideology of the Gina’abul.
This is confirmed by decomposing the term KUR into KU-
ÙR, which means the “girded foundation“, or its homophone
KU-ÚR, “the base of the foundation“. This decomposition
brings out the true aspects of this “foreign realm,” or “lower
world.” As a world surrounded by other interlocking worlds
above it, and as the first universe starting from the astral base,
the KUR constitutes the foundation of all the other
dimensions[76].
 Foreshadows of a Terrible War
“Many are the creatures of darkness, they are nearly
infinite.
Let me repeat, the place of the evil ones is vast and
immense…
the darkness is evil by nature, and what moves it is a
perpetual rage, subtle and sly,
but ignorant of the principle and end of all things.”
The Book of Adam, part 1, excerpt from chap.
27(1)

▼
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-Eš
I did not have to wait long to receive a special missive
from Ninmah giving me the authorization to use the Diranna
of the city of Adhal. However, the price that I had to pay for
services rendered was very high: Ninmah insisted on
accompanying us on the trip to the Abzu of Éšárra and
Ébabbar. That clearly showed how much she trusted us… with
reason. Furthermore, I had to reconsider her personal request
without delay, which was just as good as having to grant it. Far
be it for me to make any waves or endanger such a fragile
peace. I sent a telepathic message to the Kadištu (planners) to
tell them that I would meet them in the ANGAL dimension.
They replied post haste, saying that it was not very prudent for
me to ascend to the ANGAL, because I was not adequately
prepared for this; they preferred to descend to the KIGAL with
their spaceships. They asked me to notify them as soon as the
Diranna was accessible. Once again, I was in a delicate
position.
I followed Mamítu’s advice. The star gates of Dukù were
inaccessible to the planners, but not those on Éšárra and
Ébabbar. I contacted the Kadištu again to arrange a meeting
on Ébabbar, pointing out that an unannounced landing on
Dukù would surely encounter resistance from An and his
armed forces. Since I received no further reply, I concluded
that my proposal had been accepted.
Ninmah, Mamí and I embarked on a Gigirlah to fly to the
two planets. These Gigirlah were in fact powerful enough to
permit travel to other solar systems through the Diranna (star
gates). Gigirlah can be used for much longer trips, but it was
more customary to use Iníuma, the type of spacecraft in which
we had flown to Mulmul (Pleiades).
This journey was much simpler to program than the one
that had brought us to Dukù. However, the tense atmosphere
that now existed between the two priestesses did little to make
this brief journey enjoyable. Squeezed between Nammu’s
evasive gaze and Ninmah’s wry smiles, I had no desire to deal
with either of them. Ninmah kept looking at me attentively,
since this was the first time that she had been close enough to
me for a detailed examination. It seemed to me that it was on
this occasion that she noticed the peculiar feature on my hands
for the first time. I sensed something in her shudder, but kept
silent Ninmah offered to pilot the craft, and I had no
objections, since I was exhausted by the stress of the last
couple of days. The light given off by the many stars in the
Mulmul cluster made it impossible to get enough rest to really
recover; I had not been able to keep my eyes closed for a long
time. During the acceleration phase through the atemporal
vortex, the cabin was automatically filled with the diaphanous
protective fluid. I took advantage of this momentary respite to
close my eyes and doze off…
◆◆◆

Upon our arrival on Éšárra, the star gate from which we

emerged opened directly onto a sparkling expanse of water.
We flew rapidly to the Šèka, the northernmost access to the
Abzu (subterranean world) of Éšárra. Our course took us over
a number of abandoned bases along a wide beach and
eventually to a vast desert that had been swept smooth by
perpetual winds. Our craft left these barren regions behind and
engaged itself into the imperceptible descent that led to the
netherworld of the Abzu. Far above us, a thin reddish crescent
moon bracketed the blue immensity of space.
Suddenly two aircraft of the Mú’u type intersected our
trajectory at high speed, then banked sharply into a descent
through a thin cloud layer. A message crackled over the radio.
“They want us to follow them!” Ninmah shouted. We obeyed
the summons and veered into a dizzying dive down the Šèka
(opening). Was Ninmah trying to impress us with her flying
skills? My blood rushed to my head and I felt gradually
numbed by the rapid acceleration. More aircraft moved into
formation around us in the course of our descent. “They
belong to the Mìmínu,” Ninmah explained. Our escort was
formed of a variety of aircraft grouped into small squadrons.
At the bottom, we flew for some time over hilly country
marked by hedged farmland and then came within sight of a
vast plateau dotted with great cities that rose in the
shimmering distance like forests of antennas. In the plain we
could see troop formations conducting maneuvers under the
high sun of the Abzu. Shadows suddenly hovered all around
our spacecraft. My companion was unsettled, while Ninmah
broke out into a nervous, tell-tale laughter.
Our Gigirlah landed smoothly in the midst of a vast
enclosure with watchtowers at regular intervals. As soon as the
airtight door was unsealed and opened, we were greeted by the
deafening roar of the multitude outside. The cabin was quickly
overrun by noisy and foul-smelling winged dragons whose
rough manners perfectly matched their appearance. I realized
that these were the notorious and dreaded Mušgir (dragons),
the ones that had been cloned to reinforce the Anunna for the
coming war. Mamítu was terrified and trembled like a leaf. On
seeing this, Ninmah ordered the intruders to leave our craft.
We disembarked from the Gigirlah and were met by a motley
host of Mušgir, each more hideous than the last. The
description that I had been given of them by Mam fit the facts
only too well. These dragons did not inspire a whit of
confidence[77].
A group of about fifty grinning Mušgir were roughly lined
up in rows facing our spacecraft. The irregularity of their ranks
showed their lack of discipline: some of them were beating
their wings, while others writhed and made sounds that could
be interpreted as suppressed laughter. The Mušgir were
incapable of keeping still, that was part of their nature. None
of this seemed to bode any good.
We slowly made our way to the esplanade that bordered
the landing platform and were welcomed by an Anunna
official of rather effeminate appearance whom Ninmah
addressed as Maš (first or twin). I was taken aback: this Alağní
(clone) bore the name that had originally been destined for
me! Ninmah added affectionately that he was also called
Massu (chief). Ninmah clung to him like a mother to her
offspring, a behavior that I had already observed among the
sheep that we raised on Dukù.
57. A Mušgir fighting.
 Maš was naked underneath his armor, as were the rest of
his comrades. I was surprised to encounter an Anunna of dual
polarity here and made a comment about this to Ninmah. She
replied that I must really be naive—and she was right. He was
accompanied by a guard of four loyal Mìmínu (Greys). Out of
the distance, I could hear the rhythmic victory chants of the
army on the march. I felt oppressed by this unabashed display
of military might. “Didn’t I tell you that, although they are
practically naked, they know very well how to bear arms?!”
Ninmah boasted.
Where were the Kadištu (planners)? Where would we
meet with them? Surely not here. Maš invited us to take a tour
of the military facilities. We watched a number of maneuvers
combining ground troops and the air force. The din of the
spears and sword blades against the body armor was
impressive, and intermittently drowned out by the roar of the
Mú’u executing what looked like great ballets in the sky.
The artillery was also in action, shooting projectiles
that threw up columns of dirt when they exploded on the
ground. Ninmah pointed out that our soldiers were fearless and
that they had already weathered the worst conditions of wind,
rain, dust and fire. Obviously they were ready to confront the
direst perils. They were programmed with the male logic of
our race according to which scruples mean nothing and
violence is the only way to communicate. The combat forces
had the considerable advantage of being assisted by the
Mušgir, whose quick and agile movements made them a
daunting strike force. I remember witnessing there for the first
time the technique known as Agazugal, “crushing from
behind,“in which a Mušgir gliding above attacks from behind
an adversary facing an Anunna. The enemy soldier—in this
case only a dummy—is violently dashed to the ground, often
with a broken neck or back, and the Anunna can finish him
off.
 58- This statuette representing a Mušgir is identified
with the Assyro-Babylonian demon Pazuzu, a denizen of
the netherworld and parallel realms. He sports large wings
and has a body covered with scales. In between the wings
on the back is the following inscription: “I am Pazuzu, son
of Hanpa. The king of the evil wind spirits that emerge
violently from the Šadû [the KUR in Assyrian] and create
havoc, that I am!” The realm of the demons was very
present in the minds of the Mesopotamians, and Mušgir-
Pazuzu was considered to be one of the most powerful of
them all. As a result, he was often depicted on amulets to
conjure the other infernal powers. Many of these amulets
were found in the foundations of dwellings in
Mesopotamia.
Assyrian bronze (inv. MNB 467), Louvre, Paris.
 The atmosphere throughout this ordeal was as oppressive
as could be: this was a place unlike any other. Not because of
the war games that were underway, but for a completely
different reason that gave me a sense of powerlessness. I had
no good feeling being there, and it was no coincidence that the
cutting edge of our armed forces was being whet here and now
by these maneuvers. I had in mind various Gina’abul ideas
derived directly from the genotype inherited from my creator.
We male Gina’abul are fond of using highly symbolic sites for
the sake of celebrating religious, civic and military
ceremonies. This underground realm stank of death:
“What happened here? I asked Ninmah.
- No, not a thing, she replied with an edge of irritation
in her voice.”
I gazed at her with more insistence.
“Maš is a very special creature and you have invested a lot
of work in him, I told her. You seem to be very fond of him.
After all, he is your child…
- Apparently, there’s no way of keeping any secrets
from you! Maš is a cellular assemblage of Enlíl and
myself, he is the product of our union and only a few
Ud (days) old.”
Ninmah stared at me provocatively. I kept my
composure and replied: “This revelation will not make my
decision any easier, on the contrary. My Alağní has a lot to
learn about the Nindiğir before being able to have any
dealings with them. In any case, I will eventually find out what
is going on here! Come, I want to go back now.”
I quickened my pace, forcing us to leave Maš and his
soldiers abruptly. I expressed my desire to make a rapid
inspection tour of the planet before flying back through the
star gate. Ninmah was against this, for she was afraid that we
would betray our presence, but I managed to impose my will.
Mamítu gave her opinion with a discrete glance in my
direction, then plunged her hands into the folds of my
spacesuit and removed some loose gravel and sand. We
resumed the tour all the same, because I hoped to be able find
some track of the Kadištu (planners). Nothing came of it, as
Mam had predicted with her apt gesture. The ground of this
accursed planet was covered with monotonous wastelands,
interrupted only by cliffs and deep valleys, or an occasional
sea with exasperating reflections. Disgusted, I completely
forgot about visiting the other planet, Ébabbar, and headed
straight back for Dukù. I was quite disillusioned.
The days that followed this episode seemed an endless
repetition of the same: an unbearable wait and a feeling of
having missed out on something important. It was a difficult
time for me. Mam comforted me by saying that the Kadištu
would never have been able to manifest themselves in the
midst of such an atmosphere. In any case, the planners are not
limited by the same notions of time as creatures who live in a
three-dimensional universe.
The first effects of the food shortage that I had arranged
soon became tangible. Our farm machinery was
“accidentally” put out of commission, while the sheep
suddenly began giving less and less milk…
 A Ğèš in order to become king
“In the Kali Yuga, worship of the phallus is the most
effective thing in the world.
There is no other symbol that compares with it.
Sex brings pleasure in this world and liberation in the next.
It protects against accidents.
By worshipping the phallus we identify with Shiva.
Nothing in the four Vedas is as sacred as the worship of the
Lingam.
That is the conclusion of all of the traditions.”
Shiva Purâna, Vdyeshvara Sambitâ, chap. 21, 25-32(20)

Ж
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-
Limmu
This latest episode with Ninmah forced me again to
consider the operation that would finally give me a sexual
organ. Had she waited for my permission to cohabitate with
Enlíl? Who was I in her eyes? Nammu’s partner, at the very
most. Ninmah’s compulsive impertinence also gave her a
feeling of superiority, and my companion had once again been
made to suffer from it. I was worried. It had become
absolutely necessary for me to transmit some of my Ušumgal
powers to Mam. I did not know what the future would bring,
and I would not always be able to be at her side. It was urgent
for me to ensure her safety.
I was apprehensive about how she would react, for she had
often made it clear that there was no rush, that we had eternity
in front of us, etc. Naturally she was anxious to become one
with me, but her habit of wanting to prepare things carefully
and strictly adhere to the customs of the Amašutum tilted the
balance away from her own wishes. Not only that, but Mam
had never expressed the wish to acquire the powers of the
Ušumgal.
As things turned out, Damkina unexpectedly and
immediately approved my request. Having seen An’s military
might with her own eyes surely weighed heavily in her change
of mind on this point. She wanted to go through with it not to
acquire my own special powers, but so that I would be able to
partake of her “divinity”. Mamítu wanted me to be the first
king to work for the cause of the Amašutum, as “the reflection
of the Mistress of Life” and “the Lord of temporal duration
without change“. I already had an approximate idea of the
secret meaning of these occult names and understood that they
involved the sacred marriage that would unite us. My
companion wanted to create a sexual transmutation, a union in
the service of creation in which the opposites were to be fused
and in which all dualities would cease to exist. We would
become one, and in this way I would acquire the sacred
royalty of the priestesses[78].
Mamítu-Nammu called me to a briefing to explain the
surgical procedure that I would be undergoing. I am a
biologist, not a surgeon, and the operation in question required
some filling-in. I went to the small production unit situated
near a pond in which Mam liked to work. Also present at the
meeting were the four priestesses who were to act as her
assistants; this was a far cry from mass-producing clones. The
table in the middle of the room was full of surgical literature.
Mamí introduced me to her assistants and invited me to sit
down. I cast a furtive glance at the documents with their all too
graphic anatomical illustrations.
Damkina outlined the main steps of the operation, using
many technical terms that I did not understand at the time. Her
actual preoccupation seemed not to be the operation but the
post-operative healing of the wounds. Would my body accept
the transplantation of a foreign organ? How would my skin
react to the operative trauma? It was essential to determine the
rate a which my body could produce aggregating proteins and
collagen fibers to rebuild the tissues. There could be as many
different post-operative reactions as there are Gina’abul, but I
was also part Abgal, as was Mam, and that would be a major
advantage in such an operation.
This information seemed important to me, but it had been
greeted with no particular surprise by Mamítu only a few days
before. She confided that she had seen my Abgal affiliation
from the first moment we met, and that was also why she had
become so interested in me so soon. The rules of the Abgal
concerning females were very strict: normally they were
supposed to mate only with Abgal males. The powers of the
Abgal females could not be transmitted to outsiders, not even
to other Gina’abul. An important question suddenly occurred
to me: how had Mam done her planning until now? Had she
done her planning only with other Abgal? And how did she do
it, according to the “mystical” (meditative) or to the “tangible”
(sexual) way?
The five priestesses had plunged into a discussion of
the details of the operation: “The ischiocavernous and
bulbospongy muscles that comprise the muscular structure of
the pelvis are anatomically similar in both polarities. Sa’am’s
genital anatomy is like that of a female, we will have no
problem transplanting the cavernous body here…” I was not
listening to the explanations with much interest, and Damkina
noticed this. She rolled her eyes, made a disparaging comment
about my lack of attention and returned to the surgical details.
I like the life sciences, I like to know about molecules
and cells, and all that, but I hate anatomy and its ponderous
jargon: “The erectile hydraulic controls millions of valves that
regulate the blood pressure and flow in the penis…” All of this
was making me feel dizzy. I just wanted to get it over with.
“The number of sutures increases the resistance…” Who
would have thought that a noted specialist in biology could not
stand seeing anatomical views of the internal make up of
living beings? Dissection had never been my thing. Since I had
already been the laughing-stock of the priestesses on my first
flight in a Mú’u, I had to avoid showing any further
weaknesses in front of the very people that I would soon be
ruling. I was ridden with doubts: would this operation
condemn me to duality forever? Would animal sexuality
dominate me to the detriment of the powers of the mind?
 I rose and made it clear that I trusted them fully, but
that I also had a lot of work to do. Everything seemed just
right, I had nothing to add on my end. I am usually reputed for
my attention, but in this particular situation it let me down,
much to the surprise of Nammu and her assistants. Damkina
stood up and grabbed my arm: “I need some blood for an
analysis“, she said dryly. I stretched out my arm and one of the
assistants poked a hypodermic needle into one of my veins.
My blood is not bluish like that of the rest of my race, but has
a greenish tinge. This fact eradicated any doubts that anyone
may have had about my constitution: I was definitely an
Abgal.
Afterwards I went to the outskirts of Adhal, where only
a few days before a vast grassy plain had been the sole source
of food for the Anunna of Dukù. Now the land had been tilled
with agricultural machines operated by Anunna of dual
polarity who had come from the city of Zagdu. The latter
seemed to have no problems with the Amašutum or any
difficulty in cohabitating with them. A handful of Santana
(plantation directors) were in charge of the operations. I heard
their loud voices coming from the plain that had been divided
into smaller agricultural units.
Nevertheless, the tension was all-pervasive: war was in
the air. Time seemed suspended in these endless days without
sunsets, basking in a pleasant heat that was becoming
gradually more and more uncomfortable. I stopped thinking
obsessively about the Nungal and the strange dream that had
been pursuing me; the one in which they fell like stones in a
wasteland. I was haunted by this vision, and it probably held a
hidden meaning that I was supposed to decrypt, but I had been
unable to do so until then. I was still waiting for some sign to
come from the Kadištu (planners) somewhere above us. I
began praying to the Original Source, as Mamítu had so
diligently taught me to do.
The large majority of the Anunna had been transferred
from Adhal to the Abzu of Dukù, where they were supposed to
undergo military training similar to what I had seen in the
Abzu of Éšárra. Apparently, I did not have much of a say in
how my Abzu were to be used. I realized that I had been
remiss in my vigilance and now I was paying the price for it.
That is how things are in the Gina’abul family: you always
have to be on your guard, because one of your own kind is
always waiting to take advantage of a moment’s distraction to
prey on you. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard the sound
of muted footsteps approaching.
“You seem to be preoccupied, Lugal (master).”
Enlíl addressed me in an affectionate tone of voice and
stopped in front of me. He was dressed in a white spacesuit
that looked strangely similar to those affected by my creator. I
turned my gaze to the horizon.
“You’re doing rather well for yourself, young Dun (pupil).
You have been adopted by the Ušumgal, you have been
noticed by An, and the Nindiğir (priestesses) have nothing but
praise for your deeds. As for Ninmah, she seems to have
thrown herself at your feet, body and soul.
- Is that what’s preoccupying you, Nudímmud?”
I looked toward the cultivated fields and indicated the
plain with a gesture of my outstretched arm.
“All of what you see here is under my control. Each
individual here is my responsibility, is that not so?
- Yes, it is, Lugal (master).
- If one of these individuals were not to fulfill his
commitments, what should I do with him, my young
Dun (pupil) ?
- You should punish him without hesitation. In any
case, that is what I would do if I were in your place,
noble Lugal, he replied with a complacent expression.
- You would have absolutely no mercy?
- None whatsoever, Lugal! Leniency is for the weak,
not for a Barag (king). A Barag has to make himself
respected by his Duna (subordinates).
- And so you would resort to the hard way, by using
force. I have to admit that it crossed my mind—in
spite of myself, of course—but I won’t deal with you
in this way, my Duna (subordinate). Please don’t
consider this as weakness, but rather as proof of good
sense…”
 59. Sa’am talks to Enlíl in front of the crops planted to
feed the Anunna.
 Enlíl’s face suddenly turned scarlet. He was so imbued
with himself that he could not imagine having done anything
wrong:
“But what do have to you reproach me with, Lugal?
- You allowed Ninmah to combine your genetic
heritage with hers in order to create a new Alağní
(clone) without telling me.
- Wasn’t doing exactly what you did, noble creator?
Didn’t I create with my own blood? I may not be a
great geneticist like you and Ninmah, but I was still
able to create new life! Shouldn’t you be proud of me
and of our initiative instead? I wanted to emulate you,
Nudímmud, and Ninmah was able to grant my wish.”
The creative madness of the Gina’abul has no limit. The
desire to do better than one’s own creator was as much a part
of Enlíl as it had been of me. How could I blame him? Enlíl
was quite good at landing on his feet. With all due moral
undertones, he claimed for himself a perfectly legitimate
ancestral prerogative that I was in no position to deny him. My
Alağní knew his rights perfectly well. In our society, the
natural hierarchy or the mere fact of precedence does not
systematically imply a hard and fast superiority, but forms the
basis for power struggle that allow each individual to assert
himself. I had proved it in spite of myself by eliminating
Abzu-Abba and inheriting his powers, his crown and all of his
property. This position was all the more confusing as the royal
status of our late king had never been considered legitimate by
the priestesses. They had tolerated the situation, but never
officially approved it.
It was becoming increasingly clear that Enlíl was bent on
doing his best to surpass his creator and have his vested rights
recognized by the Ušumgal. He was no doubt willing to seize
power even if it meant resorting to marriage.
I told Enlíl that I had not had the time to properly
examine the creature he called Maš. I added that his offspring
would have the opportunity to display his abilities as a military
strategist soon enough.
 I parted company with my Alağní (clone), making sure to
keep my thoughts hidden from him. I was no longer in any
danger of betraying myself after my first confrontation with
my Kuku (ancestors), a memorable occasion that had taught
me the necessity of protecting myself. It was Enlíl’s frequent
contact with Ninmah that made me think that he was able to
read my thoughts. His eyes sparkled with an expression of
omnipotence. A quick scan of his mind told me that he had
sealed his Šagra tight. That meant that my disciple probably
already enjoyed the powers of the Ušumgal. Ninmah could
have transmitted them to him after having obtained them
herself from my father-creator. The propagation of the Níama
(life force) through sexual relations always brings heredity into
play: Enlíl had fallen prey to the same folly as An and
Ninmah[79] …
◆◆◆

The events unfolded quickly. Several Danna (hours)

after my talk with Enlíl, I found myself lying on the operating
table, exasperated by the wish to get it over with as soon as
possible. Mam was there with the four priestesses I had met at
the pre-operative briefing. They all wore sparkling jade-green
outfits with the intertwined Muš (serpents) symbol of the
Amašutum on their breast. The air was stifling and the room
flooded with a hot and intense light that stung my eyes.
On the eve of the operation, Mamítu and I had had a
long discussion about what would be taking place. She had
insisted on describing what she would be doing to my body in
great detail. Seeing that this only upset me, she finally had to
accept the fact that I was uncomfortable with the idea of
surgery. From that moment on, Mam dutifully comforted me
with her protective arms and whispered tender words into my
ears. She reminded me that we were going through with this
operation to be able to unite in love, making it clear that the
royalty instituted and maintained by the priestesses only
played a secondary role in her eyes.
Supine on the inhospitable operating table, I kept
having horrible visions and had to think of the Nungal. In fact,
they were often present in my thoughts. What was happening
to them and what would their place be in this absurd chain of
events? Would Tiamata be rash enough to use them against us?
Did my nightmare have something to do with my bad
feelings? I have to admit: I was petrified with fear. Everything
seemed jumbled in my brain.
Damkina then showed me a limp and lifeless thing: it
was the Ğèš (penis) that she had cloned especially for me and
that she was going to attach to my body. A vaporous cloud
with a pleasant fragrance appeared in the room, which was
then filled with a gelatinous substance that kept it completely
sterilized. One of the priestesses gave me an injection that
numbed the pelvic region. I tried my best to relax, but
couldn’t. I was supposed to stay awake so that I would be able
to follow the operation, with one of the priestesses describing
each step of the procedure. As if empathizing with what I was
going through, Mam decided against this at the last minute.
Liberation finally came when she put a mask over my face to
make me go to sleep. In this unexpected way Damkina was
able to save appearances for me. I had already revealed
enough faults as it was, and she did not want me to add yet
another one in the presence of her co-priestesses.
60. Sa’am’s Operation
 Although my life so far had been rough enough and I
had had to satisfy many obligations, my luck had never failed
me. I was entrusting my life into the hands of my companion,
willing to make yet another change in my creator’s program,
one that would paradoxically lead me to a better knowledge of
myself, of others and of the Original Source.
When I came to, I was alone in the room. My pelvis
was entirely covered with thick bandages reaching down to my
thighs. I had no idea of how much time had passed since I had
been operated. I tried to get up, but couldn’t. A priestess who
had been sitting in a corner immediately sprang to her feet and
strongly urged me to lie down. She told me that I had been
unconscious for a day and a half. She took advantage of my
awakening to change the bandage, which felt horribly tight.
The Amašutum carefully cut through the many layers of gauze
along my hip and laid the new and foreign part bare. She
noticed my disgust, but remained detached and pointed out
that I could be proud of their work because it had been a great
success. I could not have cared less; all I wanted to know was
how I would be able to get around with this thing between my
legs. “You will have to get along with it like all the other
males!” she quipped. Like all the other males? The Anunna
certainly did not have their Ğèš (penis) and Šir (testicles)[80]
out in the open like I did! I consoled myself by thinking that I
now had the same physiology as the Šutum, the Nungal and
Enlíl.
I remarked to the priestess that she seemed to have
little consideration for her king, to which she replied that, for
her, I was simply another patient—a troublesome and irascible
one at that. The female closely inspected my new Ğèš and
forced me to observe it with her. This was becoming a bit
embarrassing. “I don’t give a fig for your moods, my son, I am
just here to make sure that everything is in order. The good
news is that your tissues are healing as fast as a pure Abgal“,
she added with feeling. She handled the thing
unceremoniously, but without being indelicate. The sensation
that I suddenly felt was exceedingly strange. “We are not
going to insist for now, it is still too soon to stimulate it. When
you feel that the time has come, just make it stand up by
yourself, but try to keep your ejaculatory reflex under control.
Don’t get into the bad habit of diminishing your sexual
prowess.”. The priestess wrapped new bandages around me
and gave me some more advice, including how to manipulate
my penis at each change of bandage. Then she briskly left the
room.
How long would it be before the next shift would
arrive? There was no time to lose, I was awake enough now to
get up and leave this wretched prison. I was prepared to go
through a great deal for the sake of Mam and the priestesses,
but I had no wish to let someone else tell me what I had to do.
I glanced briefly around the room, but could not find my
clothes. I did spot a superbly embroidered Amašutum linen
tunic in a corner. I slipped it on. It was too tight, but it would
be enough for me to get out of this hole, and fast.
Walking askew, I carried out with difficulty. Moving with
bandages and sheathed in a tight outfit was anything but easy
and I must have had a very odd gait. The bandages made it
difficult for me to lift my legs, making my movements so
awkward that I almost fell into the pond. Going through all
that trouble only to find myself dressed up like a female and
having to steal off like a common thief! I looked like an fool.
How long I ran is hard to say, I just did my best to cut my
torment short as soon as possible. I do not recall having
encountered anyone else along the way that led from the
production unit to our apartment, where I immediately peeled
off the tunic.
◆◆◆

In the days that followed, I changed the bandages myself. I

avoided Mam as much as I could and did my best to ignore
some of the females who seemed to display increasing
hostility on my account. I felt as if I were under constant
surveillance. To make matters worse, the food shortage had
come to the attention of my Kuku (ancestors). In just a few
Danna (hours) I had been reduced to the status of the greatest
renegade in Mulmul (Pleiades).
 However, this did not dispense me from showing
myself in our production plants and giving the impression of
having the situation completely under control. I gave
instructions to the Santana (plantation directors) who worked
in the fields and tried to avoid the priestesses who stood under
the direct orders of Nammu. I had slipped into a game of hide-
and-seek. However, this state of affairs did not last forever;
only eleven long days (according to our reckoning), and that
was a feat in itself. At the end of this gamut, Kišár—Anšár’s
dual-polar alter ego—paid me a visit to ask me about the
problems in production. He was conciliatory in spite of my
evasive answers and invited me to explain my viewpoint
before the Assembly of the Ubšu’ukkinna in three days’ time.
Kišár’s amiably recommended that I have this taken care of by
then and cooperate fully with my Kuku (ancestors). I replied
by inviting him to read sections ME 32/1-2-3-4-5, ME 40/1-2
and ME 43/1-2-3-4-5 of the Mardukù more closely, for he
seemed to have forgotten what they contained. Kišár replied
that he recalled them very well. I blatantly told him that, if that
had been the case, then our present discussion would not have
been necessary.
On that same day, I was met by a group of priestesses
in the middle of the fields. They pressed me urgently to follow
them without putting up any resistance. The females led me
back to the production unit, where Mamítu was waiting,
sheltered from indiscreet eyes. My companion seemed
extremely worried; I had never seen her in such a state before.
She examined me from head to toe and then announced that,
soon, a miracle would be happening. Her unexpected
cheerfulness calmed me. Her skin seemed more tanned than
usual, probably because of the ubiquitous suns of the
Ubšu’ukkinna.
Damkina bade the other priestesses to leave us alone.
As soon as they had left, she practically jumped on me and
undertook a more thorough inspection of her handiwork:
“Don’t worry, I told her, everything’s alright. I changed the
bandages, and the wounds have already healed and scarred. I
am a real Nungal now!”
 Although Mam seemed reassured, she subjected me to
a barrage of questions. Why had I run away and how could I
have abandoned my obligations for so futile an escapade? I
had not given up my authority at the plantation, nor my
executive power over the priestesses. What Damkina was
trying to make me understand was that, in her eyes, I had
abandoned the cause of the Amašutum for which we had both
struggled so hard until then. I explained that this was not really
so, that my escape was only an expression of my disarray and
that it did not weigh much in comparison with the operative
trauma.
My companion offered me an apology, then went on to
say that the relationship between authority and loyalty did not
depend only on injunctions, but primarily on the trust that the
ruler inspired in his subjects. I had obviously disappointed my
female subjects. Damkina then turned the knife in the wound
by pointing out that Enlíl had had no trouble in convincing
many of our priestesses of his credibility.
The People of the Serpent had a queen in the person of
Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina, but they still lacked a king and
sovereign ruler. “I have no desire to crown your Alağní in
your place!” she finally declared. I seemed to be in an
insoluble dilemma. It was time for me to restore my credibility
among the priestesses, that much was sure. But I still did not
know what the coronation ceremonies would entail. What
trials would I have to undergo? Mam’s willful silence did little
to reassure me on this point, but it was my duty to gratify the
wish that she had expressed when we cloned the Nungal in the
city of Ankida. At that time, seemingly far off in my memory,
I had become Mamítu’s Nitahlam (lover) and she had already
planned to make me her king. That had been her condition for
giving me back my freedom.
Mam seemed elated. I did not know if this was simply
her joy at seeing me again or because she was relieved to see
that the result of her efforts was in very good shape. She
scrutinized me again from head to toe, and repeated that a
wonder was about to occur, also adding that I was still rather
naive. For some reason, we would have to wait a couple of
Danna (hours) before being able to go back to our apartments,
where the ritual was going to be conducted. I was so
incredibly gullible at the time…
 The Divine Enthronement
“She [the Great Cow] leads the king to the seat that both
have made…
the king climbs onto the thighs of Isis…”
Pyramid Texts, excerpts 1153 and 379(10)
“O Soma,[81] spread your gentle and intoxicating dew.
You have been poured to refresh Indra…
The daughter of the Sun, with her eternal filter,
purifies the plant that produces you…
The invulnerable cows mix their milk with the young
Soma.
This beverage is given to Indra. “
Rig-Veda, 6th section, Hymn 7(21)

╦
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-Ía
My eyes were half open and I felt tense and nervous. I was
in a humid cave, probably the one that lay beneath the great
Unir (pyramid) of the city. Our pyramids are usually built
above natural or artificial cavities and are used to celebrate the
mysteries of the Eternal Feminine. These Unir (pyramids) are
as symbolic as the Kizàh (secret places), but they are the
domain only of the priestesses and a few initiated males.
Candles had been set all around on the ground, creating the
impression of a star-filled sky. I heard a voice say: “The
ceremony of enthronement is usually celebrated under the
lights of the imperishable sky, but, as you know, there is no
night here.”. Two of the four priestesses who had operated on
me had made me sit on a sycamore-wood throne. I had not
been very cooperative and they finally had to tie me up. Naked
and bound from the feet to the shoulders, I witnessed the
mysteries of the Goddess without being able to move. Having
already been invested with the sacred vigor, I now had to
undergo the ceremony of enthronement. This would then be
followed by the royal initiation, the purpose of which was to
unite me completely with the regenerative powers of the
Mother-Goddess in the service of the Original Source.
I was astounded to see among the three Nindiğir
(priestesses) the shining eyes of the young woman from
Nalulkára. It was she who had given me the sacred Únamtila
(plant of life), the providential Úzug (menses) that saved me
during the initiation in the Kizàh. I did not know until then that
this female was one of the twenty Nindiğir (priestesses) who
had made the trip with us. She stared at me insistently, as she
had already done before.
The other three officiating priestesses had horns on
their heads like their sisters at the trial by the fire of the Aš.
These were the Celestial Cows, the repositories of the Divine
Will. They were dressed in long, tight-fitting robes that
accentuated their hips and thighs and that were tied behind the
neck with thin straps. Jewels sparkled on their breasts, hands
and feet. Their continuous chanting helped calm me little by
little, so that they could finally untie me and let me stand up.
A shadow moved through the room that I recognized as
Mamítu’s silhouette. She was wrapped from head to foot in a
dark and diaphanous veil that did not hide her soft, sun-
darkened skin. Mam came up to the dais and sat on the throne
behind me.
 61. Sa’am faces Nammu. She is seated on the royal seat
surmounted by the symbol of the Triple Power
(parthenogenesis). To the right is the priestess who offered
Sa’am the Únamtila (plant of life) during the Aš fire test.
 The main part of the ceremony now began under the
direction of the priestess who had given me her Úzug on
Nalulkára. Her voice was gentle, but I could not keep from
shuddering:
“Am (wild bull, lord) appears in his glory before us,
he appears in glory with the divine light.
The great Erešiš (queen of the stars) granted you the royal
seat.
She chose you and has a grand vision for you.
She of the many names takes your hand and sets you on
the celestial throne.
At these words, Mamítu-Nammu took my right hand and
drew me toward her, inviting me to sit on her lap, with my
back to her. This very ancient Amašutum ritual associates the
thighs of the Mother-Goddess with the revitalizing power and
is a transparent metaphor for sexual union. By sitting on her
thighs in this way, the Queen of the Stars was supposed to
transmit her sacred vigor to me and adopt me as her son within
the Amašutum community:
Am takes possession of the celestial throne,
He takes his place on the seat of the Mistress of Life,
He sits on her sacred thighs.
You are seated on the shining throne and the Mother
of Mysteries transmits her secrets through the emanation
of her flowering.
She turns you into a god among the gods.
These words were followed by the ritual of the touching
of the face. Still sitting behind me, Mamítu used her left hand
to give a magnetic massage to the nape of my neck, my
forehead and my spine. She drew her face close to mine and
breathed a special scent on me that vitalized me with the life
fluid. Then she took me in an embrace with her right arm.
This gesture was meant to give physical expression to the
intimate union between the goddess and her future lover-king:
 The Divine Erešiš inspires you each Ud and lights your
way.
She is your Shadow among us. She holds you to her
breast.
The Immortal Virgin enfolds you like her child,
She consecrates you as a child of the Original Source.
You breathe in the sacred breath of she who governs fate.
You unite with her vivifying breath.
The Mistress of the Heavens and Stars is a blossom to
your eyes.
Your buttocks are impregnated with the emanation of her
blossoming.
You steep yourself in the Mistress of Life,
You become the image of she who is a mystery to the
gods themselves.
The Very Holy Erešiš gives health and life to all of your
limbs.
 62- The Egyptian king Men-Kheper-Rê (Thutmose III)
was nursed by the goddess Isis incarnated as a sycamore.
This illustrates the ancient idea that the main function of the
Mother-Goddess was to create the king and set him on the
throne. By absorbing the Goddess-Mother (the tree of life)
and swallowing her divine fluids, the future king became her
image on Earth. The text accompanying this illustration
reads: “Men-Kheper-Rê: his mother Isis offers her breast”.
Pillar 1, Side b of the Tomb of Thutmose III (18th dynasty).
 These words were followed by a long silence. The
officiating priestesses observed us closely, as if they were
waiting for something particular to happen. This break in the
proceedings lasted until one of the priestesses gently took my
arm and invited me to stand up. I still had my back to Mam.
Once again, time seemed to stand still. I could not feel my
legs. How long did I stand there without moving? Then I
suddenly felt an odd sensation, as if something familiar were
happening, but that I could not define. The priestess who had
given me her blood to drink during my first initiation began to
sob quietly.
Two priestesses walked up to Mamítu, and I heard them
carefully remove her veil. Then they returned to their places in
front of me and stared at me expectantly. What were we
waiting for? The answer was not long in coming. I trembled
inadvertently as I heard the skin on my forehead break open
and fall to the ground. By now, all of the officiating priestesses
were weeping: for the first time in my life, and probably in the
most difficult way, I was experiencing a Gibil’lásu (renewal of
the skin). I recalled the words of the sentinel in the city of
Unulahgal: “It’s always very impressive the first time it
happens“, and she was right! I felt nothing, or rather just a
gradual falling away of the skin accompanied by an
unexpected, and not very pleasant sensation of coolness. I
realized that Mam and I were undergoing the same natural
process simultaneously. The miracle that had been predicted
was indeed taking place. The enigmatic priestess from the
initiation by the fire of the Aš resumed her chanting with a
shaking voice that was deepened by emotion. Her song of
praise seemed entirely improvised:
Behind the Darkness hides light.
The Very Holy Barbélú[82] undoes her dark attire, her
robe of Night,
The Very Holy disposes of her soiled garment[83].
Damkina asked me to turn around and face her. Her skin
was swelled and cracked all over, which gave her an awesome
appearance. Then she gently began removing my old skin and
I did the same for her. The new skin underneath was
amazingly light, shiny and seemed moist.
O venerable Sovereigns, you sparkle in delightful
brilliance,
And with your light, you banish the darkness.
The two other priestesses gathered up our shed skins and
put them in a wooden chest. Mam invited me to sit on her lap
again. We were both so moist that I almost slid off. The
priestesses burned some especially pure perfumes with
supernatural virtues. Each of them held a sacred vase
containing water mixed with some of the secret and divine
essence of the Nindiğir (priestesses). These were the
preliminaries to the ritual of the sprinkling with holy water.
The purpose of this ritual was to purify me with divine water
and associate me with the regenerative power of the Eternal
Feminine:
Now you have been given the sacred perfumes,
Am has been given incense and purified.
Here is the regenerative essence of the Nindiğir, here
is the water that will bring you to life and make you live.
It will turn you into a servant of the Great Nindiğir and
the Original Source.
The pureness of Am is the pureness of the creative fire.
Your purification is the ablution of your vital essence.
May the purification that is yours fulfill itself among us.
The Great Nindiğir pours onto you the divine cup full of
quickening fluid.
Your face is purified by she who makes your throne.
Your arms and your hands are purified by the Nindiğir of
the plants,
Your thighs and feet are purified by the Nindiğir of the
cardinal directions.
They all work for you in the dark.
 The purification is on your flesh.
The purification is on your face,
It is on your mouth and on your tongue,
It is all over your body.
May the purification render all your bones pure.
The Immortal Virgin carves and models you according to
her own image.
 63. The Maya Codex from Madrid, plate 30. Depiction of
Ixchel (goddess of the rainbow), who governs female
fertility, medicine and the Moon. The link between this
goddess of the female fluids and the rainbow is still not fully
understood, although a correct interpretation of the text that
accompanies this illustration gives us a clue to the mystery:
“The star releases water, the sap from the depths of the
stunning mother raises the twisted rope.” This means that
bodily fluids of the goddess lead to a raising of consciousness
by making the Kundalini energy rise along the twisted rope;
that is, the subtle channels of Idâ and Pingalâ, ascending in
a double sinusoidal movement, like two serpents, along the
spine. The relationship that we have made between
Kundalini and the rainbow is obvious when one considers
that the seven chakras are also symbolized by the colors of
the rainbow.
 After having swallowed the mysterious vital essence of
the Nindiğir, one of the females gave me something to drink
from another cup. This liquid contained a fine kùsig (gold)
powder like the beverage at the end of the trial by the fire of
the Aš. The priestesses knew the secret virtues of this metal.
Since kùsig (gold) was systematically associated with rituals
using sacred fluids, I supposed that it must have a fixative
effect on the body. After I was given this sacred potion to
drink came the initiation by the ritual kiss, the culmination of
the ceremony of enthronement:
You are associated now with the water of life, the
water with which the ruler purifies himself. The Mother
of the throne embraces you with her two arms and kisses
you like her child…
The strange priestess momentarily stopped intoning the
litany. She was obviously very moved. Her fellow priestesses
patiently waited until she was able to continue. Nammu looked
at her, surprised, but kindly. The priestess resumed:
… she holds your body, she kisses your eyes.
The Nindiğir of the plants honors your arms, she kisses
your hands.
The Nindiğir of the cardinal directions honors your legs,
she kisses your feet.
The powerful ones have quickened in you the three
reflections of your soul.
The Master, bright as a Šún [star] appears in the midst
of the libations and walks with the light.
I was still sitting on Damkina’s thighs while she held me
in her embrace. The ceremony ended with a marvelously
choreographed ritual dance that represented the circling
rhythms of the universe. The priestesses of the “plants” and
the “cardinal directions” performed a light circular ballet on
the tips of their toes. The priestess who had officiated during
the trial by the fire of the Aš recited a series of seven
incantations in Emešà that seemed to involve the seven
chakras. The two dancers clapped their hands and slapped
their thighs. They circled around the throne in a measured step
and rubbed their breasts, which they had suddenly exposed,
against my sparkling body. Their breasts gave off a suave and
heady fragrance. The circling dance accelerated, shifting into a
trance of highly esoteric significance. The young priestess
closed the ritual with these words:
O Barag, you rejoice on your shining throne.
The Gíg (Dark Ones) dance before you,
They dance for you,
The Ğiš (trees/Dark Stars) strike their arms and thighs for
you,
They offer you the power of moving in the luminous
regions.
Am, may you be vigorous and honor the Great Queen.
May you join Above and Below.
Am, may you be granted felicity forever.
With these words, the priestesses wrapped us in an
opaque veil and instructed us to leave the cavern as quickly as
possible. We climbed the seemingly endless stairs while our
guides hummed a recitative of transformation for the initiate-
king. They were very careful and made sure that no one
crossed our path. A few unfortunates were sternly shoved
away. This was a very important ritual and could not be
disturbed by indiscreet and profane eyes.
We finally arrived in our bedroom, the one that I had
abandoned for many days in apprehension of this moment.
The priestesses removed the veil that had covered us and lit
some candles. The curtains were parted, letting a faint light
come from the outside. The room was transformed into a
shrine in honor of the mysteries of the Eternal Feminine. The
Nindiğir (priestesses) then took their leave with light steps,
taking care to spread with perfume burners a refreshing
fragrance that inspired divine kindness. Then there was finally
silence and I found myself alone with the Queen of the
Throne.
 The Sacred Union with the
Mother-Goddess
“But the mother of the king is a great serpent,
and it is the serpent of fire, the red crown,
that brings him into the world;
he is himself a serpent of many coils,
purveyor of vital powers
and a serpent named ‘bull of the gods’…”
Pyramid Texts, 2204a, 198b, 1146b(10)
“When you will have made the two One and the inside like
the outside,
the outside like the inside, above like below,
when you will have made the masculine and the feminine
One,
so that the masculine is not a male and the feminine is not
a female…
then you will enter the Kingdom.”
Scroll from Nag-Hammadi, “The Gospel of Thomas,”
Codex 2,2(12)
 64. Royal Egyptian serpent wearing the two crowns of
Egypt. The wings are similar to those often depicted on Isis,
the Queen of the Throne.
 ≈
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-Àš
The room was bathed in a soothing semi-darkness. I
looked around. The azure-colored mosaics on the wall
emerged subtly from the decor. Damkina had taken off her
raiment and gone to lie down on the bed amid pastel-colored
cushions. She reclined, silent and serene, absorbed in a long
contemplation of my body. I was pensive, trying to figure out
any number of ways to approach her. Things were no longer
the same now.
“Talk to me about your anxiety, my Nir (prince). Anxiety
and fear are obstacles to love and understanding.”
Mamítu drew me on the bed. She kneeled and admired
once more the results of her handiwork. She could not stop
fondling the shaft of this uncanny thing, this foreign
appendage that still did not feel like a part of me. I decided to
make no efforts at all, but had not reckoned on her infinite
patience… With knowing gestures, Mamítu persisted in
delicately rubbing and moving this object in all directions,
stopping every once in a while, to apply languid kisses. All she
got for her devotion was a half-hearted erection, which did
disappoint her somewhat. My Šan spoke with a note of
concern in her voice: “Didn’t you touch your penis, as we
recommended?”
I did not answer. I felt so ill at ease that I could not even
look at her. Mam then took me by the wrists, guided my hands
toward the “object” and ordered me to look at it and touch it
there and then. She said that it would not be good for anything
if I did not like it and become acquainted with it. My
companion patiently helped me tame my fear of my sexual
organ and, together, we took our time in getting to know it.
After a while, just as my body was awakening to an unfamiliar
pleasurable sensation, I loudly sighed: “What’s the point!”
“Before, you seemed to be frustrated because you had no
Ğèš (penis) to honor me, she said, and now all you do is
complain. Do you insist on being stubborn?
 - It’s just that I don’t feel at ease, my Ereš (queen).
- There’s no need for any ceremony when we’re alone,
she said, stroking my face.
- I’m afraid not to be good enough, I told her. This
Ğèš (penis) does not belong to me and is quite
uncomfortable. Not only that, but my Šir (testicles)
bother me.”
Suddenly alarmed, Mamítu hastened to inspect them to
make sure that nothing was wrong.
“My dear, you should have told me about that before… I
can’t see a thing, the scars are practically invisible. If you’re
bothered by your Šir, that probably means that they are
functioning properly. Don’t worry, the discomfort will go
away.”
Mam lay back and pouted. Then she looked at me with
her bewitching eyes and scrutinized me to the depths of my
soul and back, giving me a reflection of myself as if in a
mirror. “I think I know what your problem is. You’re thinking
too much! You males are always disconnecting things. Let me
tell you one of the keys to our immortality. Try to keep from
thinking so much, that will free you and permit you to accept
yourself as a part of the universe, instead of just as An’s son.
The idea of being different from the other males makes you
think, and the thought of losing something of the nature
instilled in you by your creator paralyzes you with fear.
Individuality exists only in relation to the past and future, and
so in relation to time by way of thought. When you drop this
aspiration, there is nothing more to think about and time
ceases to exist. Everything becomes sensory and functions in
the present. That is our way of being present at every moment.
By nature, we priestesses do not master the Níama, at least not
in the way that you understand it. Nevertheless, we are very
intuitive and you could say that we also have powers. The
perfect mastery of our senses and our perfect freedom is what
grants us this awakening. If I think of yesterday and tomorrow
now, I do violence to the present moment. We are free only in
the present, because there is nothing else in the universe
except for this moment. Your penis is a wonderful instrument
that will give you divine felicity and reveal great secrets; you
must respect and love it. Love yourself from now on and
enhance your vibrational frequency. Breathe deeply, let the
vibrations of love emanate in your Ba [soul]. You are in good
hands, expert hands in fact. I have confidence in you and you
will do well whatever happens. It is true that I have high
expectations of our union, but don’t worry, we have eternity
before us. Forget your anxiety and your anger, they only block
your inner self. Let your pain become transparent. I am the
one who heals, the one who loves and who wants only the best
for your blossoming. Relax, or you will come to nothing at
all.”
After having said this, Mamítu kissed me fully on the
mouth, lathering up her saliva and winding her long tongue
around my own. We do not have what is commonly called the
“tongue brake” and so our tongues are naturally very long.
All at once I felt a warmth flooding my pelvis. A rush
of blood flowed into my Ğèš (penis), making it swell, stiffen
and rise. I felt a strange, inexplicable sensation overcome me
from below; it was not especially pleasant, in fact almost
painful. Mamítu was pleased to see that the fruit of her labor
was finally ripening and bumping against her thigh. Bliss was
hers at last; the wet softness of her lips brushed mine. She
kneeled again and claimed that she would be able to make it
increase in volume by using a technique that she called
Amrášušita[84]. My Šan began to fondle my Ğèš again, but this
time with extreme deliberation. Intrigued, I looked at the
metamorphosed member and saw Mamítu caressing it up and
down and all directions, like a fruit that she was about to
pluck. The pain gradually turned into pleasure and then shifted
into an arousal that intensified from moment to moment.
Seeing my excitement dangerously accelerating, Mam
immediately stopped the exercise and stood up, telling me that
it was no use taking the risk of curtailing my power: “It is
absolutely essential to keep your Numun (sperm) from going to
waste, for it would ultimately weaken your sexual potency.”
she explained.
I had not really contemplated my Šan (mistress) since
her transformation and now saw her for the first time without
make-up. There was not even a jewel to enhance her splendid
nudity. She seemed more beautiful than ever, the embodiment
of beauty free of all artifice. Mam pulled me toward her, sat on
the bed and spread her legs, then asked me to carefully
examine her Ğála (vagina). I had done this before, but this
time I was studying it in depth—as she liked to put it—using a
sacred practice that was intended to stimulate her. She invited
me to gently fondle her lips in order to become familiar with
them, unabashedly showing me the sensitive spots that
increased her pleasure. After that she asked me to polarize her
organ, as she had done with mine. She pointed out that this
technique would help me maintain my erection and give me
the sacred energy of the Goddess. Finally, she asked me to
take my time, for “females take much longer to get aroused
than males!”
 65. A priestess initiates a man into the secrets of the tree
of life, at the heart of which there is a labial-like opening
(red in the original). Laud Codex, plate 37.
 Mam lay on the bed, folded her legs against her breast and
rested her delicate feet on my shoulders. Motioning to her
Ğála (vagina), my companion explained that the practice
consisted of three successive steps. The first was called
Šušita[85] which means “the control of the slit” in our language
and consists of deep kisses, making broad movements with the
tongue and sucking the clitoris. A little overwhelmed, I did as
she said, watching her Šagra unfold as her passion slowly
grew. She started making undulating movements with her
pelvis, letting her Rasa (vaginal secretions) slowly spread in
her Ğála. Then she uttered the word that introduced the second
phase of the proceedings: Uš’šušita[86].
This was followed by an expectant silence. The
meaning of this word was so obvious that my Šan did not have
to give me any further instructions: “concentrate the power of
the secretions!” This was a solemn and sacred moment, for
Mam was giving expression to the deep bond that joined us, as
well as to her complete trust in me.
I did my best to follow her instructions and satisfy her,
but this practice only heightened my own inner fever all the
more. Nammu put both of her hands on my head, as if to
console me, and told me that other secretions would soon be
appearing and flowing out. I made rotating motions with my
tongue and then cupped it to receive the precious fluid. When
the intensity had reached its highest pitch, Mam said
“Kúšubhá’aka”[87] indicating the third and last phase of this
sacred practice. Once more, this term needed no elucidation,
for it simply meant, “lick and swallow your fill.” I lapped up
the sacred nectar, tasting eternity and lapsed into an ineffable
drunkenness.
Our organs having thus been properly polarized, Mam
drew me to her and said that we were now ready to engage in
the divine act. She made me lie down on the bed and caressed
me with her hands and feet to maintain our mutual arousal.
She then asked me to kiss and pamper her feet.
“Do you know why we give such importance to the feet,
my gentle Nitahlam (lover)?
 - I know only that the fact of kissing them is a sign of
your sovereignty over us.”
Nammu threw her head back and had a good laugh:
“Please forgive me my lack of decorum, Sa’am, but your
creator has managed once again to fool you, she said in a
syrupy tone of voice. Why do you think that we wear such thin
sandals and often walk barefoot? It is simply because we want
to stay in touch with the ground. To make a long story short,
the foot is a projection of the entire body, mirroring it like a
miniature version of the whole. Each part of the body is
reflected in a precise zone that needs only to be stimulated in
order to restore the flow of energy. The free circulation of this
energy creates a feeling of harmony and well-being. The same
principle applies to the hands, but the feet are much richer in
nerve endings. By giving the feet a massage, the body’s energy
is drawn downwards, thus decreasing tension in the body. A
foot massage can bring enormous benefits to the organism as
a whole, including reinforcing its natural defenses, releasing
nervous tension, unblocking the flow of energy, improving
sleep, relieving pain and restoring overall balance… When
we kiss, we activate and stimulate our energy centers in the
feet[88]. In other words, it does us a world of good! When you
kiss the big toe, for example, you reactivate the cavities of my
nose, mouth and throat. I will show you further benefits of the
foot massage another time. But I have talked enough already,
let us proceed with the divine union. We will use the sexual
energy in order to achieve a state free of all limits. We call this
state Niranna, and it will transform you forever.”
Niranna? I had never heard this word before; it had to
be part of the secret language of the priestesses. The
juxtaposition of the particles NIR and ANNA told me that this
word meant “that which elevates high in the heavens,” but it
could also mean “that which broadens the elevated,” in the
sense that this state enhanced the understanding of pure being.
Remember well what I have already taught you, she
went on, and above all do not feel humiliated if I take the lead
in this encounter. This act should not be mental, for its purpose
is to let you abandon yourself completely to my frequency,
which is that of the Goddess.
 I was still lying down on my back when Mamítu pulled
my legs apart and took position sitting on my thighs. Raising
herself, she gently placed my Ğèš (penis) against her Ğála
(vagina). This contact generated a great heat that seemed to
consume the entire lower part of my body. Mam told me to
relax and keep breathing deeply, while she slowly slid my
member against her lips. I remembered what she had told me
once before, during her lesson about the main principles of the
sexual act: “When a male and female Gina’abul copulate in
love, they must look deep in each other’s eyes.”. I did this and
saw that she was staring at me in a way that she had never
done before. Her gaze was mysterious and deep; it could only
be the gaze of love. Mam uttered some words in the womb
dialect that I did not understand, then translated them: “May
your Ğèš unite with my Ğála and may your nature be
transmuted into the vibration of love.”
With a small movement of the hips, Mamítu’s Ğála
grasped the top of my member and drew it inside her with the
strength of her vaginal muscles. Our union was now
beginning. Damkina stabilized our sexual organs all the while
staring at me attentively. I felt another intense rush of eternity.
Then I gradually felt my Ğèš (penis) being pressed by the
contraction and relaxation of her vaginal muscles. This
subjected my organ to a back and forth motion that was every
bit as effective as the pelvic movements that usually
accompany the sexual act.
This ancestral practice is mastered by all of our
priestesses and permits the male to control the ejaculatory
reflex better, as well as to impregnate himself with the
magnetic forces produced by the female. For our priestesses,
the union of the male and the female is a very sacred thing; it
is an act directed by the female and that must last as long as
possible so that the two practitioners can achieve divine
felicity. Because of this, as Mamítu explained, the males have
to follow the instructions of the females, for they alone possess
the proper “rhythm” and “frequency.” Since the vagina is
surrounded by muscles, our priestesses learn very early on to
strengthen and control them like any other muscle in the body.
Vaginal control is one of the basic keys to the unlimited sexual
power of the female and, by extension, of the male as well.
We kissed and stroked each other passionately. Mamítu
remained very attentive to all of my reactions and knew
exactly when to stop her caresses and slow down to lessen my
sexual excitement. As soon as we neared the danger point, she
released her vaginal pressure and kept still, reminding me to
breathe slowly and deeply from the belly.
Our mutual fires having been multiplied, the moment
had come for us to adopt the sacred position that would permit
us to open our seven Šagra one after the other[89]. The first,
called Muladhara, “the brilliance that spreads in the cup,” is
located at the lowest level, below the base of the spine. Once it
is open, the Muladhara-Šagra[90] acts as a stimulus to the
progressive opening of the higher energy centers. This Šagra is
the opening chord that permits the frequency to rise to the
ultimate climax of sublimation.
Mam spoke out the name of the sacred posture that we
would be using: Sughášanna, which means “the flooding of
the belly to the sky”[91]. This was a sitting position. I crossed
my legs while Mamítu faced me and lowered her body until
she was striding my pelvis. This position permitted a very
deep penetration and the possibility of prolonging the union
without needlessly tiring ourselves. The Sughášanna position
is not particularly sensual, but it is ideal to get the inner strings
vibrating, so to speak, and to ensure the optimal circulation of
the sexual energy. Mam put her arms around my neck and
kissed me tenderly. She advised me to breathe at the same rate
as her, but to invert the phases; breathing out when she
breathed in, and vice versa. This was like the functioning of
the Šagra themselves, in which the direction of rotation in the
male is the inverse of the female. The Šagra spin in a
clockwise direction in the male and counterclockwise in the
female, thus expressing the complementarity of the masculine
and feminine energies.
My companion then resumed the contraction of her
vaginal muscles and practiced “suction-contraction” with her
Ğála. We mentally contemplated the color red, letting it flood
our sexual organs and bring a gentle sensation of heat.
The technique remained essentially the same for each
of the next levels. The second Šagra is called Šàdištana, “the
unique one of the entrails able to irrigate”[92]. Borne along by
our synchronized breathing, we had to transfer the energy from
the level of the first to the second Šagra by rising in frequency.
The vaginal contractions were immensely pleasurable for both
of us and stimulated all of our senses. At the second energy
center we concentrated on the color orange.
After that we rose to Manipúra, “the companion—the
river of the depths that agitates”[93] It was given this name
because it is the center of the ego and the inner forces. We
caused our joint sexual energy to rise and descend through the
three Šagra while concentrating on the color yellow each time
we reached the Manipúra.
With a gesture of the hand placed on my heart, Mamítu
indicated that we were going to move on to the fourth Šagra,
which is called Anahata, “the superior force that establishes
character”[94] This is an important energy center because it is
the seat of love. Whoever masters the energy expressed in this
center can experience unconditional love for others. Mam
gently massaged this Šagra, and at length, as if to sensitize me
to its energy. I recall that it was the very first time in my life
that I felt touched and that I truly sensed the beginnings of
tenderness, perhaps even love. My companion kissed me
tenderly. At this level, we concentrated on the color green, the
symbolic color of virtue.
Now it was time to move on to the fifth Šagra, which is
called Hišudhá, “he who combines the many invocations”[95].
It is the center of speech, the source of verbal expression. The
higher we went in frequency, the more the mounting
excitement occasioned delightful sensations that swept in
waves though our conjoined bodies. Nammu began to sing! It
was the first time that I had heard her hum so melodiously. I
tried to keep track, but only made noises with my breath, while
our respective heart and respiration rates kept gradually
accelerating. I was surprised by this, but my companion
reassured me with a kind look. All the while making the
sexual energy rise and fall between the five energy centers, we
concentrated on the color blue at the level of the Hišudhá-
Šagra.
 66- The complete version of the caduceus represents
Kundalini and the sacred sexuality of the Mother-Goddess.
1) The cup symbolizes the vagina, the container of the
feminine fluids, the place of the first chakra (it is compared
with the vital current of love in the spiritual texts of India);
this is where Kundalini slumbers at the base of the spine.
2) The middle axis symbolizes Kundalini (KUN4-DA-LI-
NÍ, “the powerful ladder that inflames the body”), that is,
the divine ladder on which there is a perpetual movement
of rising and falling by virtue of the two subtle currents. It
is the tree of life and death. Whoever knows how to use it
can activate or extinguish his chakras at will. 3) The two
serpents symbolize the subtle currents, Idâ and Pingalâ,
that rise in a sinusoidal motion along the spine. These
currents intertwine in opposite directions and form a sort
of ladder that passes through the seven main chakras. 4)
The last symbol is a pair of wings that evokes the elevation
achieved by the proper use of the previous elements.
 Then came the transition to the Šagra called Áhna,
which means “the mark of the force,”[96] the energy center that
is usually associated with the third eye. This sacred center is
the seat of all the higher faculties, such as Kinsağ (telepathy)
and the ability to concentrate; in other words, it represented for
me the seat of the mastery of Níama (vital force). We had
reached a critical moment, for by opening this Šagra during
sexual union, I was now in a position to transmit some of my
Ušumgal powers to my companion. In light of the difficult
situation in which we found ourselves, Mam and I both knew
that it had to be done. While maintaining my attention on our
energetic fusion, I began to rub my forehead against hers and
concentrate on the process that was to come. When I felt that
my Áhná-Šagra was moving at the same speed and according
to the same frequency as Mam’s, I sent her a portion of my
knowledge and power.
It was a difficult transmission for Mamítu. She began to
scream. Her eyes froze and I saw tears run down her cheeks.
In no time, we were completely unsynchronized. When I felt
her limbs suddenly stiffen, I decided to intervene by shaking
her. Mam immediately came to and, to my surprise and
irritation, began to laugh. I told her that it would be better to
interrupt our union, but she wanted to continue, reassuring me
that everything was alright. Then she uttered the following
words: “Nitah-mu nir usu gùr-ru Niranna-šè ga-ba-e-da-u.
Sipa šà-mu-ak šu-mu šu ù-bí-dù Niranna-mu-šè bi-mu.” ; “My
male, prince full of power, I want you to come with me into
Niranna. Keeper of my heart, take me by the hand and take me
to Niranna.”
Mam was fully conscious and wanted us to prepare for
the opening of the astral realm. We concentrated for a long
while on the color purple, which embodies wisdom-knowledge
and governs the Áhná-Šagra. Once we had gotten back into
sync, my companion started to speed up the rhythm by making
circular movements of the pelvis with the intention of steering
us toward a simultaneous orgasm. After a few moments of
intensive motion, she gave me a look that told me to proceed
to the great leap where time stops. Our ultimate orgasm
blossomed into bliss and transformation. As its name
indicates, the transition to the Sahašrara-Šagra, “the favorable
one who dismembers and enlarges”[97] was operated by a
complete dismantling of the body in terms of time and space.
Everything around us suddenly turned into light. The
encounter with the supreme orgasm burst open the doors of
infinity, beyond the condition of separate existence. In this
fusion of all the senses, in this limitless and unending delight,
we were made one, form and void, the self and energy
embodied in a perfect unity.
I became aware of the unity of all things by perceiving
the ultimate reality beyond the rational, beyond my great
knowledge, which suddenly seemed paltry compared to the
direct perception of “reality.” Recovering back into the real
world made me realize that my body contained the entire
universe! For the first time in my existence I felt good and
completely relaxed, my body fully attuned to a universal and
multidimensional unity. A vast feeling of well-being spread in
great waves and sparked each cell of my body. I finally
understood the true meaning of the words GÍG and ĞI (dark
and void) which the priestesses personify by calling
themselves the “Dark Stars,” for the void is not dark. It reveals
the light and is the product of all of the colors that exist in the
universe.
I already knew this feeling, but without knowing how
or why. In spite of her seemingly reserved appearance, Mam
inspired a great deal of serenity in me. Together with her I was
at home; a home that I did not know, but that did me a lot of
good. Still under the effects of this ineffable moment,
completely impregnated with the taste of love that lasts
eternally, we lay down on the bed, still joined, enjoying the
present moment and the passion that made us one.
 67. Detail of plate 60 of the Borgia Codex. A priestess
initiates a man into knowledge of the tree of life. The sacred
blood pours out of the tree. The two figures wear the symbol
of the serpent, which associates them with the cult of the
Mother-Goddess. At the top, there is a star with a dark side
that clearly evokes the notion of Dark Star, not the Sun and
the Moon, as it is often believed.
 The Secret of the Ubšu’ukkinna
“He who knows them [the “gods”] when they pass near
him,
their lowing will not reach him and he will not fall into
their pits.”
Text of Amduat, Tomb of Thutmose III, 3rd hour, 1, 25-
27 (22)

Ж
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-
Imin
I was now endowed with the universal perception of the
Source and the sense of absolute identity. Mam had been able
to perfect my knowledge in the name of a race of visionaries
that was associated with universal unity. The Amašutum
possess the knowledge of the divine principle that holds the
universe and all the different worlds together, that joins the
infinitely great and the infinitely small. I was now subject to
the secrecy of the Kadištu (planners) and connected to the
Source. The sectarian mentality of the males of our species is a
great obstacle to spiritual development, for the vast majority of
them live only in terms of materialism. In the eyes of An and
Anšár, I was sacrificing my independence and free will for the
sake of an immaterial, abstract and, at best, entertaining
ideology.
I dressed quickly and blew out the candles, parting the
heavy curtains and letting the room fill with a golden, soothing
light. A slight breeze gently lifted the diaphanous curtains that
veiled our view of the rows of palm trees shading the park
below. I could see my Gigirlah (sparkling wheel) still parked
near the fountain.
Damkina was busy in front of her jade-incrusted
mirror, shading her eyes in deep green and underlining them
with kohl. Her appearance was completely different now that
she had shiny, light-colored skin. She had put on her sandals
made of braided plant fibers and kùsig (gold) thread, and was
wearing a long white linen dress that was open in the back and
held by ribbons and a belt at the waist—divine!
She paused briefly to let the make-up on her eyelids
dry, and took the opportunity to talk with me. Her voice
seemed different now, and she spoke in short and rapid
sentences. In the name of her official position as the great
Nammu, she sternly reprimanded me for my recent blunders.
The majority of the Nindiğir (priestesses) of Mulmul were
counting on my support; my erratic behavior had to stop. I
listened to her while leaning against a marble column near the
window. When Mam had finished with her reproaches, I
walked over to her, put my arms around her neck from behind
and breathed in her blue lotus perfume. I looked at her
reflection in the mirror and saw that she was wearing a royal
necklace made of translucent mint-colored glass beads
alternating with filigree balls of kùsig (gold). Her earrings
were also made of kùsig and had the shape of upside-down
corollas. On her forehead, Damkina placed a diadem with an
oval kùsig disk and jasper in the middle. Finally, she put on
the wig made of plant fibers dyed with bitumen that most of
the priestesses wore. Now she was ready.
Mamítu asked me to look in the large wooden chest
near the bed that contained her treasures, some of which
seemed to have come from Uraš (Earth). Inside, there were
many different colored crystals; the Amašutum are well
acquainted with the secrets of rocks and minerals. My
companion asked me to look for a cylindrical quartz crystal
with blue and green inclusions. I found it and stood up to
examine the different facets. It was amazingly pure. I heard the
noise of sandals approaching on the stone floor and felt Mam
stand behind me. She touched the object and told me how it
was used:
“This wonderful crystal is a Ğírkù[98]. It has many virtues
and works according to the same principle as the ME. The
entire history of the Amašutum is recorded in it, or at least
what I was able to put into it. It is also a frequential catalyzer
that can transport you to the three levels of the KIGAL[99] and
the fourth dimension of the Angal. The Kingú-Babbar, the
great albino Gina’abul and their children, whom we call
Imdugud, have a certain kind of spherical Ğírkù (sacred lights)
made of crystal or metal that are a combination of the normal
Gùrkur[100] and the crystalline stone that you are holding. This
crystal can vibrate according to certain frequencies with a
quality coefficient that is proportional to the impulse that was
given to it. What you do not know yet is that, in the past, our
ancient lineage was endowed with the mastery of the Níama
like the queen and the Ušumgal. The heat generated in this
crystal by the Níama can increase or decrease the vibrational
rate of a being and align him with the different planes of
existence[101]. In fact, the Ğírkù (sacred light) acts as a
Gùrkur, but with even greater power, for it is still in the rough!
This type of green quartz is very rare and one of the purest
stones that we know. It comes from the Gagsisá (Sirius)
system. Lastly, it is also a formidable weapon. Its blade can be
deployed through the Níama (vital force). This object once
belonged to our ancestors, the ancient lineage of the
Amašutum. Each of us on Nalulkára has one. Our misdeeds of
the past and our assimilation into the Confederation of the
Kadištu (planners) not only divested us of our venom, but also
of this ability that we once possessed naturally.
- You know that from now on you can also summon its
blade, I told her. All you have to do is make the
Kundalini energy rise and focus it at the level of the
Áhna-Šagra…
- However, I must reveal to you that some of us still
have mastery of Níama, at least partially. None of the
Ušumgal knows that, except Tiamata and my sister
Ninmah. I voluntarily gave up these powers after
terrible grief, so that my anger would not turn against
me. I was then offered to join the Kadištu.
- You gave up the control of Níama?
- I only once experienced the ritual of the stone bed,
the body programmed to receive my Ba (soul) was
then arranged to allow me to renounce my premium
obligations. From Tiamata’s assistant, I moved on to
planning …”
 “This crystal once belonged to Barbélú” I said to myself.
I became uneasy, gradually, I had the strange feeling of
knowing this holy object.
 69. Nammu puts his crystal back in Sa’am’s hands. This
is Ugur, the ancient crystal of Barbélú in which Nammu
recorded the story of the Mušidim and Gina’abul while she
was working with Tiamata under the name of Nuréa.
 I handed the Ğírkù to Mamítu. At that very moment, I felt
a wave of warmth fill the crystalline cylinder and saw a flash
of flame shoot out with a blast of heat[102]. Mamítu was so
astonished that she dropped it on the ground. The impact of
the activated crystal made a crack in the stone floor. I picked it
up and heard a melodious sound emanating from it, like a
chant of sorts.
The blade of flame had gone out when the crystal hit the
ground, but I could still make out an undulating motion at the
tip. “This accursed crystal has the production name of UGUR!
You can have it, Sa’am; it will be of more use to you than to
me,” she said, disgusted. Damkina’s eyes were sparkling, her
heart was beating fast, as if painful memories were rising to
the surface of her consciousness. In giving me this crystal,
Mam was making me the person with the sole responsibility
for her security. What could I say? I would have done anything
for her sake. The Queen of the Throne looked at me and
finally said:
“I have established contact with Tiamata. This wonder was
made possible by Ugur in spite of the time and space that
separate us. Our Ereš (queen) has been informed of the
conspiracy of the Ušumgal, and I have apprised her of the
progress of the situation here. Tiamata will arrive in Mulmul
(the Pleiades) in just a few Danna (hours). The Kadištu are
faced with a great crisis: our queen is not coming to negotiate,
but to subdue your Kuku (ancestors), their Anunna and the
horrible Mušgir. Her decision is final and has caused quite a
stir among the Kadištu. The latter know Anšár only too well
and are wary of how he will react. If war breaks out, Tiamata
will not get any support from the planners. I am very worried,
for this would surely mean our downfall and that of the
Gina’abul. The Kadištu will not intervene in our favor. We will
be alone, Sa’am. We will have to face our destiny alone, and
that will probably mean a war of unprecedented savagery.
- Maybe the war can still be avoided, there must be a
way. You already mentioned that some Amašutum had
also settled in Ğišda (the Hyades)[103]. Won’t these
Nindiğir be able to come and help us?
 - I don’t think so, my child: they are all under
Tiamata’s command. I have already tried to contact
them, but without success. As a matter of fact, if it
came to a war, they might even turn against us. The
Nindiğir are formidable warriors. I have even heard
rumors that some of them might still have the full use
of the Níama, but this has not been confirmed. Here is
Ugur, this noble crystal that has been of little use to me
for such a long time. It’s yours now. My efforts to
reason with our queen have failed. I asked her not to
interfere and to let the Kadištu negotiate directly, but
Tiamata is too proud and conscious of her dignity.
Take this crystal and use it wisely. You will not be able
to contact Tiamata now, for she is still traveling in the
atemporal vortex. I would suggest that you go to the
moon of the planet Éšárra now. You will find the
answer to many questions there. This journey is of the
utmost importance, now that you have become aware
of certain facts. Please follow my advice and, most of
all, avoid descending into KUR-BALA[104]. The rest
of us Abgal[105] have very little tolerance to being
there. You can use the Diranna (star gate) of Adhal,
because we were able to overpower the Mìmínu
(Greys) who were guarding it. We may be able to
contact each other since I have the possibility of using
the Níama again. But do not imagine that I will use
these powers as you can, I do not appreciate it which
can make the most honest of us a slave … Go quickly
now, my child, before our plan is discovered. Don’t
ask any questions and come back to me as soon as
possible.”
I did indeed have a lot of questions, but her advice was
too pressing. I took Ugur, left the apartment and immediately
went to the Gigirlah that I had acquired at such great expense.
I flew directly to the great Diranna (star gate) of Adhal and,
under the astonished gaze of a handful of Mìmínu kept in
check by the Amašutum, forced my way into it. In no time, I
was free of Dukù’s gravitational pull. This was another first
for me; the first time that I was flying alone through a star
gate. In my haste to take off I had forgotten to get the
coordinates of the Diranna of the moon of Éšárra. I would
have to take the same route that I had used with Mam and
Ninmah when we inspected the Anunna training under Maš’
command[106] my spacecraft still had the program for the route
stored in its memory.
It was a short haul. At the end of the tunnel I could
already see the sparkling oceans of Éšárra. Clouds were
climbing extremely high in the atmosphere and the heat was as
intense as on Dukù. I accentuated my trajectory and flew
briefly over the water to gain enough momentum to escape
Éšárra’s gravity and then fly to its satellite. Suddenly two
Mú’u appeared out of nowhere and flew in close pursuit in the
upper atmosphere. A radio message saturated my speakers, but
I had no difficulty recognizing the crisp voice of a Mìmínu.
They had probably been alerted by the unusual radio silence of
the guards of the Diranna at Adhal. They demanded my
immediate identification. I had no desire to let these ant-
headed creatures know my destination. I could easily have
accelerated to the hilt and shaken them off, but they would still
have been able to track me and find out where I was flying; all
they had to do was to measure the rate at which my
radioelectric waves were propagating. I changed course and
banked into a dizzying dive toward the cliffs on the seacoast.
The two Mú’u were still on my tail. Then I tried to escape by
slaloming between the reefs. These damned Mú’u stuck to my
heels like glue and even started firing at me. The chase was
becoming increasingly difficult and dangerous as well.
Suddenly I had an idea. I flew so low over the water that
my shock wave siphoned out an opaque cloud of water. I took
advantage of the cover to shift into hypersonic speed and keep
them from seeing where I was going. Gigirlah can withstand
extremely high accelerations and neutralize the dangerous
shock waves around it.
After a few seconds I decreased the acceleration. I was
dazed by the speed myself. My Gigirlah had achieved escape
velocity and was now flying on a course that would take it to
the reddish satellite. On my first approach I made a rapid
survey of the surface, but all I could see was an endless desert.
What was I supposed to look for and how would I find it? I
decided to pick a landing place at random. The thrust of the
Gigirlah threw a burning cloud of dust high up into the air. The
sensors told me that Éšárra’s moon had a life-sustaining
atmosphere, which meant that I could leave the craft without
any special gear. As often happens on small celestial bodies,
the horizon seemed deceptively near.
I looked around. Nothing in sight. There was absolutely
nothing to see on this ball of red sand oxidized by water
contained somewhere under the sand and in the rocks. My
instruments detected nothing out of the ordinary. I took a few
steps in the ocher desert. That was a bit reckless of me, for I
was completely out in the open. A Mìmínu craft could easily
spot me, if one happened by, and this time they would
probably shoot before asking any questions.
It was a strange little moon. I did not feel comfortable
here. I had the same sensations as when I had been in the Abzu
of Éšárra: a feeling of paralysis that made me unsure of my
balance and caused my heart to beat very fast. I quickly
returned to my spacecraft and decided to continue surveying
the area from above. Ever since our arrival in the solar system
of Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia) I had had practically no
occasion to use my Ušumgal powers; but now the time had
come. The Níama can be used not only to make miracles, but
also to see auras and perceive the Šagra; in other words, to
examine any organic or inorganic body. This moon seemed to
be afflicted with a strange malady, and I was determined to
find out what its symptoms were. I flew to a lower altitude to
get a better view of the ground. The reddish desert extended in
all directions, there was nothing but sand and rock as far as the
eye could see. I was slowly approaching the southern Šèka
(opening), which gave off a pale glow, a sign that something
abnormal was coming out of it.
 70. Sa’am, in his small Gigirlah, looking for explanations
about the origins of the Gina’abul.
 The downslope at the pole was clearly visible, and even
quite jagged, owing to the small size of the moon. I was
surprised to see that there was no sunlight emerging from the
Šèka at all. This meant that the underground sun was
extinguished[107]. All around, there was only darkness and not
even the three-dimensional screen of my Gigirlah could pierce
its depths. The only thing left to do was to turn on the craft’s
projectors. The many layers of rock gave off a diffuse light
because of the water that seeped out from underground wells. I
maneuvered away from the rock walls and tilted into a
downward course, putting my radar into operation. It detected
no signs of life, just irregular terrain and a deathly silence
disturbed only by its probing signals. As I neared the ground, I
turned up the luminosity of the projectors to size up the terrain
with my own eyes.
The little I could see of it was very uneven and seemed
to be giving off sparkling reflections in all directions. I was
non-plussed by this phenomenon and dropped another few Gi
(yards) until I was hovering approximately one Kùš[108] away
from the ground. From there I saw an amazing sight, the
strangest thing that I had ever seen! Instead of the desert of
rock that I had expected, I was looking at thousands of
skeletons still decked in armor made of solid Kùsig (gold).
This eerie necropolis literally covered the ground and
extended as far as the eye could see. What incredible force
could have annihilated such a tremendous host?
Once I had stabilized the Gigirlah on the ground, I left
the pilot’s cabin and opened the hatch. I jumped and quickly
found a footing on the inhospitable ground. The muted echo
of my landing momentarily parted the heavy curtain of silence
that sealed the depths of the lifeless Abzu. A glance sufficed to
tell me that the skeletons were all of about the same size as my
Kuku (ancestors). To keep from slipping, I had to pick my way
carefully through the piles of bones and metal armor. Each
false step ended with a clatter that reverberated far and wide
into the blind unknown. The golden breastplates were all of
the same type, and so this must have been a single army. I
stopped and looked around again, but all I could see were
bones in all directions. A once mighty army had suddenly been
stopped in its tracks here, and its remains lay all about me in
the midst of the cold subterranean night. There were millions
of bodies. This must have been not only an army, but an entire
people, and they had all been wiped out somehow. I was faced
with a puzzle without a clue to its solution.
Examining the dead of this vast natural grave more
closely, I was stupefied to discover that not a single head was
attached to the body; each and every one of these individuals
had been beheaded! Considering the grisly method that had
been used, I assumed that the people in question must have
belonged to a race that had been endowed with immortality. It
is well known in this part of the universe that the only way to
terminate an incarnated immortal is to sever the head from the
body. At this sight, even Eternity seemed to be a bitter cup to
drink, for none of these individuals had been able to avoid
death, no matter how numerous or well equipped. Yet another
detail caught my attention: the shape of the skulls
corresponded perfectly to that of my own species, the
Gina’abul[109].
 72/73. Examples of artificially elongated skulls (photos
taken at the museum in Ica, Peru). This type of cranial
deformation was often performed in the past to create a
resemblance to the “gods.”
 I felt that I was getting closer to my purpose. I knew that I
was on the right track when I saw that all the corpses were
girded with chain-mail skirts made of gold links. With that
observation came a foreboding: I was in the presence of a
sacred people. I knelt on the ground to try to confirm my
presentiment. I did not have to dig long before coming upon a
heavy oval shield decorated with finely chased ornaments. At
the center it was not difficult to make out the symbol of the
Amašutum with the two intertwined Muš (serpents). For the
first time since landing here, my hands began to shake. The
great mystery that had shrouded the extinction of the ancient
Gina’abul priestesses had been lifted in this most sinister of
places, far from the eyes of unwelcome witnesses.
Then the truth hit. Ever since I had been ritually opened to
the unifying energy by my companion, the Queen of the
Throne, I functioned on a higher plane of consciousness:
namely that of the spirit. It was as if Mamítu had partially
wiped out my creator’s programming. The facts were as clear
as day now: the Great War that had pitted the ancient line of
the Amašutum against the Mušgir (Dragons) had come to a
definitive end here in Mulmul (the Pleiades), or more exactly,
in the system of the Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia). The
unwholesome atmosphere that I had felt while watching the
Anunna troops on maneuvers in the Abzu of Éšárra was a
distant echo of the violent events that had taken place there;
the final battle that had ended with the extermination of the
ancient Amašutum. Anšár knew all of this, of course, and so
had had precise strategic reasons for using that planet to drill
his Anunna army into shape. The Gina’abul have the ability to
absorb the energy of places that are favorable to them. In the
same way, they can also absorb the energy of other beings to
the point of annihilating them.
Damkina had told me that there had been no real victor in
that insane war. Almost all of the Amašutum were killed and
the few male Gina’abul who survived the carnage left to settle
the twelve planets of the Ubšu’ukkinna that had traditionally
been under the control and authority of the ancient line of
priestesses.
 73. The fall of the cult of the female is depicted in this
detail of plate 24 of the Borgia Codex. Represented are the
three basic elements of Amerindian culture: the tree-
serpent, the woman (or androgynous being serving the
Source) and the jaguar. The latter embodies the “spirit of
night” and symbolizes secret knowledge preserved by the
priests and shaman-priestesses. The symbol of the fall from
a tree is ancient and widespread, for the cult of the Mother-
Goddess went through a very long decline through the ages.
 Among the male survivors were Abzu-Abba and his
children, Lahmu and Lahamu—the last representatives of the
royal lineage of Urbar’ra (the constellation of Lyra)—as well
as a number of Mìmínu (Greys) and Mušgir (Dragons). At the
end of the hostilities, the Kadištu, who had remained neutral
throughout, banned the last recalcitrant Mušgir from Mulmul.
The Sukkal planners were entrusted with this delicate mission,
for they were very well acquainted with the Gina’abul, with
whom they had cohabitated in the constellation of Urbar’ra
(Lyra). As members of the Kadištu (planners), they had also
stayed out of this absurd war between the Gina’abul. After this
“cleansing” campaign, only the Mìmínu were allowed to
remain in Mulmul (the Pleiades), on the condition that they
respect the new laws that had been passed. The Mìmínu may
not be particularly friendly, but they have always been on the
side of law and order.
This meant that the incredible number of 1,2 million
Mušgir in the Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia) system could only
be explained by the presence of Mušgir who had stayed hidden
there after the Great War; it would have been materially
impossible for An and Ninmah to clone so many Anunna and
dragons in so little time. It also meant that the clandestine
Mušgir were just as dangerous today as they had been at the
time of the Great War. I now had the key to the millennia-old
hiding place of the Mušgir: if the Kadištu had done their
cleaning up without expulsing all of the Gina’abul allies, then
they must have been able to hide from the planners in a place
that only they were able to access. The only place that is
completely impenetrable to the Kadištu is the KUR, which
corresponds to the first two levels of the lower astral realm.
The Kadištu can exist only as far down as the KI dimension,
which is the one in which we live for the most part[110]. Mam
had taught me that the Mušgir were the only Gina’abul species
able to pass between the KI and the KUR dimensions without
requiring any special measures. The Mušgir are invisible
stalkers; they observe their victims without being seen and
pounce treacherously on their prey without warning.
I suddenly had a strange feeling: the unmistakable
sensation of being watched. I raised my head and looked as far
as I could. Nobody. I wanted to make sure, and so I took out
Ugur, the crystal that Mamítu had given me. It is very easy to
use if you already have mastery of the Ušumgal powers. By
brushing Ugur with the palm of my hand, I caused the
powerful Kundaliní energy to rise to the Áhna Šagra. The
crystal immediately began to vibrate and propelled me into the
second dimension, which we call KUR-GAL. I fell some four
Gi (13 yards), landing on humid and spongy ground. There
were no corpses to be seen anywhere, since I was on another
plane of reality. All I could see was a frozen wasteland of
bluish rock. I stood up with some difficulty. Had I made an
error in calculation? It was still as dark as before, for the star
of this small moon had gone out long ago, imploding and
strewing debris everywhere. It was a miracle that this moon
was still viable at all.
My senses were on red alert. I made a rapid survey of the
surroundings. Not a single being was in sight, but I was finally
able to make out a small temple carved out of the
mountainside in the distance. The terrain seemed to be the
same as before. The KUR-GAL of this satellite must have
been used once by a subspecies of the Gina’abul.
In spite of Mam’s advice, I was tempted to descend to the
KUR-BALA, the hideout of souls of low frequency and beings
resonating to vibrations similar to those of the Mušgir. Forbid
something and transgression almost becomes an obligation. I
took the precaution of memorizing the exact position of my
feet, then brushed Ugur with the palm of my hand and
summoned the Níama.
My “fall” this time was as brutal as it was sudden. The
walls of my inner environment imploded, while my feeling for
external limits suddenly collapsed. I lost all sense of time and
space. The view was different now, and in spite of the lack of
sun, there was a uniform, greenish glow all around. In the
shadows, I could make out all sorts of hybrid creatures, frozen
chameleon-like where they were concealing themselves. These
were what we call intermediary creatures; we know that they
exist, but they are very hard to detect. If I could make them out
at all, it was thanks to my Ušumgal powers.
 My vision gradually adapted to the landscape, which
revealed views of the two higher dimensions, reflected mirror-
like on a 360° screen. I could clearly see the imbrications of
the KI and KUR-GAL dimensions, such that they formed a
single transparent, yet tangible reality. In the distance I
recognized the rock temple in the mountainside from before.
It was an awesome feeling to be able to see everything without
being seen! The visual materiality of the KI (3rd dimension)
made me slightly dizzy because I was in fact standing
underneath the graveyard of the Amašutum. How was I going
to return to the KI when I was standing four Gi (13 yards)
beneath its material reality?
I was not far from going into a panic. A rush of insect
wings brushed the cool air and swept past my face. I broke
into a run, but had no way of orienting myself properly in
these unfamiliar surroundings. I had to slow down and
advance as if I had a magnifying glass in front of my eyes.
Still, the visual stimuli rushed past me at high speed. My
emotions seemed to stimulate the inhabitants of this place,
who were moving wave-like in time to my own movements.
The bestiary of the lower astral realm soon became hostile to
the intruder that I was. They attacked me in groups of five or
six and tried to knock me down. They did not seem to be
overly affected by the Níama (vital force). The third wave of
assailants managed to send me reeling helplessly to the
ground. I was at their mercy. A final reflex made me take Ugur
out of my belt and activate its fiery blade. I began swinging it
around in circles above my head. The burning sword
illuminated the scene like a flame, repelling my assailants and
keeping them at bay. Getting back to my feet, I slashed my
flaming blade in the air to blaze a trail as far as the mountains
in the distance. I had to reach them and climb at least four GI
(13 yard) in order to return to the KI dimension while avoiding
being buried under the skeletal remains of the Amašutum. The
other problem was that the foothills of the mountain were a
good 30 Uš (6 miles) away. The intermediary creatures
seemed to be enjoying the game and their evasive movements
were becoming more and more precise. Soon they had formed
a menacing ballet that whirled all around me. I had had
enough of this. The best thing to do seemed to be to use the
Níama for a giant leap that would propel me back into the KI
dimension. Mustering my resolve, I rushed my tormentors
head-on and broke through their circle, then made a great leap
to return to the materiality of the KI. I knew that I had
succeeded when I heard myself landing amid the clatter of
metal and bones.
The jump had made me pass through two dimensions at
once and left me completely exhausted. In the distance, I saw a
powerful beam of light scouring the darkness and slowly
heading my way. I was so dazed and tired that all I could do
was fall on my butt. Just then I heard a voice that seemed to
come from the depths of my soul. “Use your crystal to realign
yourself, otherwise we will not be able to approach you.” I still
had Ugur in hand. I waved it several times from my head to
my pelvis and back. This enabled me to get up, still tottering.
The moment that I had been waiting for so long had finally
come. The blinding light subsided to reveal a Gigirlah of an
unfamiliar type. The Kadištu (planners) seem to have as many
kinds of aircraft as there are planning species in the universe
The Kadištu Gigirlah came to a stop and stayed aloft not
far from mine. A holographic image was projected in front of
the spaceship, permitting me to see two magnificent beings. I
recognized an Abgal from the Gagsisá (Sirius) System and an
Ameli from the blazing star of Bun[111] (Aldebaran). Mam had
told me that the fair-complexioned and semi-aetheric Ameli
and their allies had had trouble with my Kuku (ancestors)
because the latter had wanted to settle on their land after the
Great War. Anšár claimed the annexation of the Mìmínu
colonies to the main system of Bun that had been approved by
the Ameli well before the Great War. After the War, the
Mìmínu colonies of Bun were disbanded by the Ameli and
their allies. With the agreement of the Kadištu (planners), An
and Anšár established the Mìmínu colonies from Bun in
Mulmul (the Pleiades), forcing a good part of the new
Amašutum lineage to gradually abandon Mulmul and the
Ubšu’ukkinna solar system and settle in Ğišda (the Hyades).
After a while that seemed to last forever, the two Kadištu
materialized exactly on the same spot as their holographic
images. The appearance of the planners is tranquil and serene.
Their eyes shone with a welcome good will. The Ameli spoke
first, using Kinsağ (telepathy). His tone of voice was very
similar to that of our priestesses:
“Brother, you do not have very much time, and we will
have to be as brief and concise as possible. The conflicts and
disagreements among the Gina’abul is going to produce a
material transformation of the perceptions of our universe. The
administrative and executive organization of the Kadištu will
be temporarily blocked from a part of this universe because of
the insurrection being prepared by Tiamata. We have tried to
dissuade her, but your Ereš (queen) is so afraid of seeing the
ancient domination of the Mušgir (Dragons) spread once again
like a plague that she is unable to bring her wisdom to bear on
the situation. None of us can blame her, for we witnessed the
Great War and saw what the Mušgir were capable of.
Nevertheless, the rule of bestiality promoted by a large
majority of the Gina’abul will dominate this sacred region of
our universe, which is today under the executive control of
Tiamata. We cannot prevent this predestination in any way.
You have a crucial role to play in this chain of events and will
have to make many important decisions. We are not here to
guide your choices, but to remind you that most of the
Gina’abul are the victims of a distorted idea of the Source and
are suffering terribly because of it. While recognizing the fact
that there is no separation between you and the others, you
will have to help your brothers overcome their faults. This is
one of the great missions that you have chosen in letting
yourself be incarnated among the Gina’abul.”
The Ameli took a small step back to let the Abgal
move forward and continue:
“Son of An, you will be able to observe different forms of
thought and experience: the conditional and the unconditional.
Never forget that you are the master of your Zišàğál
(incarnation). The narrow way that you have chosen will help
you to integrate Zalag (Light) and Gissu (Shadow) instead of
dissociating yourself from them. The Amašutum themselves
incarnate this subtle association that is implicit in the process
of creation. They symbolize the close bond that links the
ANGAL (the Great Above) and the KIGAL (the Great Below).
Presently they are in great danger because too many of your
Kuku (ancestors) believe that hate and vengeance will remedy
all their ills…
- I am not about to make any excuses for my kind on
the pretext that they do not know what they are doing,
I replied. Constant forgiving brings constant
opportunities to forgive, those who make mistakes
repeat them tirelessly!
- Rancor and misunderstanding also contribute to the
absence of love, the Abgal went on. The darkness of
the ego is just another aspect of the Light, since it
creates emotions that determine all manner of
experiences that will ultimately lead to the Source of
Light. As long as bitterness takes root and grows, the
initiate will never be able to liberate himself. The
initiate never loses hope for his ego and his struggle
against bitterness. Only when he has exhausted all the
other possibilities will he finally take the path that
leads to the Light. The initiate must undergo trial after
trial, but has faith in the Light, for he is light himself.
The unfortunate life forms that you encountered in
KUR-BALA were nothing but the reflection of past
events that took place here in KIGAL. They were
troubled and lost souls, waiting only for liberation[112].
Look how they threw themselves at you to try to steal
some of your light. All lost beings need light in order
to find the way. It will be the same with the Anunna
and their associates, they will never cease making
demands on you, even at the risk of snuffing out your
flame. Will you brandish your weapon to protect and
save yourself, or will you try to surpass your fears and
go deeper into the unfathomable? You will have to go
beyond good and evil, beyond your fears. That is
where true Wisdom lies.”
The Ameli again moved forward to speak:
“The apprentices of life and of the animal kingdom, the
ones we call Gílimanna (the Celestial Bestiary), with which
my ally here and you are related[113], and more exactly this
sub-race called Anunna, might try to establish a colonial rule
based on servitude and domination. These beings are
completely incapable of recognizing the fundamental facts of
social and karmic evolution, for they consider themselves to
be gods, which they are not—or not yet, anyway. An Ud (day)
will come when they will surely achieve eternity, but not
before they have recognized the sacred within themselves.
- Yes, that’s right, I concurred, the Anunna think they
are immortal, but they aren’t. Tiamata deemed it too
dangerous to endow soldiers with immortality.
Because of this, and in order to reach a general
agreement, our queen decided that the Anunna and the
Nungal would not be physically immortal, but only
have a great longevity.
- Yes, we know that, my son, the Ameli added. The
laws presently in force in this universe—and Tiamata
knows this perfectly well—stipulate that physical
immortality cannot made a genetic trait, but can only
be acquired through the evolution of the soul. The
Gina’abul Alağní’s (clones) quest for immortality is
going to complicate your mission quite a lot. The
Anunna must never find out what you have learned
through your initiations, for they would deviate the
sexual energy and use it as a means of domination and
repression, as the Mušgir (Dragons) once did. Look
around you, look at all this kùsig (gold)! There is
enough of it to quench an entire regiment’s thirst for
immortality for a long time…
- All it would take would be a few obliging
Amašutum, I concluded.”
At that very moment we heard the dull roar of an explosion
on the surface of the moon. The Kadištu looked at me. The
Abgal spoke for the last time:
“Your Ereš (queen) has found some allies among a
minority of us, our heart is torn. Do not underestimate her plan
of action, for her allies are formidable and will not trouble
themselves with any distinctions in the heat of battle. The
fighting is going to begin soon, my brother! It will lead you far
away from here, to a place where you will experience
emotions that will force you to explore the depths of your
identity. You have agreed to bear a heavy responsibility in
caring for the evils of your lineage. This task will oblige you
to make difficult choices from now on. These choices may
entail further kinds of suffering. You will be able to count only
on yourself. By incarnating among the Gina’abul at this
precise moment in their history, you projected yourself into a
universe in which the mental is stifling the spiritual, and the
ego neutralizing wisdom. Do not choose the wrong battle. It
will be up to you to protect the Sacred in all its forms. I also
want to warn you about an important subject on which
Nammu and the Kadištu no longer agree. Barbélú’s dream, the
one revealed to you by Nammu, cannot entirely undo your
creator’s project. Even further leaps in this dream will not
solve what lies ahead in any way. You have to make Nammu
understand this at the risk of losing yourself and straying from
the Source.
- Doesn’t she already know? I asked in amazement.
- The stubbornness of Nammu and his maid is great,
said the Abgal. I know them very well, we belong to
the same family. My name is Wa.
- Her maid? What is the point about her?
- Both know the secret of time drift and quantum
jumps. If they program new jumps in space-time, they
risk waking up Ía’aldabaut, the son of Barbélú.
- Who is he ? I only know his name.
- Nammu will have to tell you about him…”
New muffled noises were heard in the distance. The
Abgal ends the discussion with these words: “Get out of this
place as soon as possible, time is running out.” The Kadištu
suddenly vanished. Their spacecraft rose without a sound and
glided away, leaving me alone with these fantastic revelations.
I did not have much time left. Not long from now, the airspace
of the Ubšu’ukkinna would probably be turned into a
battlefield. I slipped into my Gigirlah and promptly left this
desolate place to plunge back into the depths of the polar Šèka
(opening).
 74. Wooden statuette of the African Dogon
representing a Nommo. This sculpture is identical with the
depiction of the Sumerian Abgal or Akkadian Apkallû,
both of which involve “wise” beings. The Nommo of Mali
are said to be amphibian “gods” who came from the
heavens to become the initiators of human beings. The
Dogon claim that the Nommo originally came from Sirius.
Decomposed into the womb language, Nommo becomes
NUM-MÚ: “the elevated one who causes growth and
restores” (the particle NUM, which also exists in Assyro-
Babylonian, is the same as the Sumerian NIM, which
refers to the fact of “being on high” or “elevated”). Note
the homophonic NUM-MU, which means “the elevated one
who speaks.” According to Dogon tradition, the Nommo
are best known for having brought language to humanity.
 Disorder and Dissent in the
Divine Assembly
“[Marduk] was suckled only by divine breasts. The nurse
who raised him filled him with amazing energy. His was an
overpowering nature, his gaze was striking; he was a born
man, full of power from the beginning… And so, Anu [An]
created and bore four winds which he gave to Marduk. Thus
Marduk created the dust and made the storm carry it. Having
thus produced the swell, he disturbed Tiamat. Being disturbed
in this way, Tiamat was agitated night and day, and the gods
were tired of the constant gusts of wind… And so the gods
went to her [Tiamat] and conceived the evil against the gods,
their offsprings [the Anunna of An]. They came in a circle
around Tiamat, irritated, plotting constantly, night and day,
they brought conflict, eager, furious, they held counsel to
organize the war. The Mother of the abyss who created all
forms made the proud armies. She bore the giant Dragons with
pointed teeth, with terrifying jaws… “
Enûma Eliš, Babylonian Creation Epos, tablet 1,
excerpt from lines 85 to 135(2)
“Between the one who has conquered thousands of foes in
battle and the one who has conquered himself, the latter is the
greater victor. “
“The true victor,” Gautama Buddha(23)

₪
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-Ussu
My Gigirlah left the small moon of Éšárra and plunged
into the depths of space around the Ubšu’ukkinna (the star
Maia). I ran across a reconnaissance drone who led me toward
the Diranna (star gate) of Éšárra. The small remote-controlled
craft, which patrolled strategically important sectors of space,
was joined by another. Soon, a craft of the Mú’u type escorted
by two Gigirlah appeared on the horizon and began firing at
the drones. The destruction of one of these unarmed drones is
probably what made the planners suddenly decide to part
company just before. I flew at a fast clip and had just spied a
third drone in the vicinity of the Diranna when I initialized the
return program still stored in the computer’s memory.
However, the warning system announced that no echoes were
being received from the city of Adhal on Dukù. The Mìmínu
(Greys) must have succeeded in regaining control of the star
gate. I performed a rapid calculation to locate another star gate
on Dukù, but the results were negative. More and more drones
were arriving, and I guessed that Tiamata’s troops would not
be far behind. The only other possibility for me was to
approach Dukù using conventional methods, like any other
spacecraft, and so I shifted into cruise speed.
Along the way, my thoughts turned around what I had just
heard. What great mission had I chosen for myself? Why did I
have to stop Mam from dragging us into a quantum drift?
However, the words of the Kadištu confirmed those of my
partner: “You are the august that I have so often seen in
dreams … You alone have the power to rebalance a dreadful
past engendered by the son of unreason … the Amašutum will
be eternally grateful to you…” Tha”s what she told me after
our first planning session. That was a long time ago, when we
were beginning to create the Nungal. As it was, my thoughts
had often turned to the Nungal in the last few days, and I felt
very close to them somehow. They would certainly be part of
the journey.
The summary destruction of the reconnaissance drones
was a foretaste of far more ruthless combats to come. War
seemed inevitable. Who had given the order for these
inoffensive drones to be shot down by the forces hidden in the
Abzu of Éšárra? Maš, the Alağní (clone) created by Enlíl and
Ninmah, still stood under my orders and the Anunna troops
could not make a move without my prior permission. Only the
Mìmínu (Greys) and the Mušgir (Dragons) were under
Anšár’s direct command.
I had been traveling for some 8 Danna (16 Earth
hours) in the Mulmul system of many suns (the Pleiades).
Suddenly I heard Mamítu’s voice mentally. It was the first
time that she had communicated with me using Kinsağ
(telepathy). The quality of the transmission was not
particularly good, but I caught enough of it to understand that
she was concerned about my prolonged absence. It seems that
Enlíl had managed to rally a number of priestesses to his
cause, which was the same as that of my Kuku. An
extraordinary session of the Divine Assembly of the
Ubšu’ukkinna had been called a few Danna before and my
untoward absence had incited my Kuku to give Enlíl complete
power. Mamítu objected and claimed to have a right to my
position by virtue of the bond that united us, which meant
revealing the fact that I was now the Barag (king) of the
People of Serpent and the “reflection of the Mistress of Life“.
This information was greeted with consternation by the
Assembly—and great irritation by Ninmah. All the same,
Mamítu failed to get the approval of the Assembly. Enlíl was
appointed commander-in-chief of the four Anunna armies
hidden in the various Abzu of the Ubšu’ukkinna system.
Another session was scheduled to be held in Adhal in 3
Danna: with a little bit of luck, I would be able to attend it.
◆◆◆

Fortunately, my return on Dukù went unnoticed. My

approach over the high ground enabled me to see that the
outskirts of Adhal were teeming with activity. There were
several hundred Gigirlah and three Mága’an cargo ships
standing at the ready. A dense and nervous crowd milled
around in the main artery of the city. I landed my vehicle in
the middle of the fields.
Anarchy seemed to have gotten the upper hand in
Adhal and the surrounding countryside: I surprised some
Anunna of dual polarity making off with the little Ka’áúè
(corn) that they had been able to find. When they saw me
coming out of my craft, An and Ninmah’s Alağní (clones)
immediately recognized me and gave me a ceremonious
salute… then went back to their marauding as if I were not
there. I let them do as they wished, for if anyone was
responsible for this situation, it was me.
 I picked my way through the fields and soon
encountered a group of Nungal. I was startled to see that they
wore clothing made of green feathers with an iridescent sheen.
This exotic attire made me think of the Kadištu line that we
call Sukkal and that Mam had often talked to me about. Most
of all, however, it reminded me of the nightmare that I had had
and that had not stopped haunting me.
The turbulence in the city became louder and louder.
All at once I was encircled by a dozen or so Nungal who
insisted on picking me up and carrying me aloft. I was unable
to get a word in edgewise because of the clamor. Swept away
by the jubilant crowd, I was treated to a haphazard tour of the
city. The festive atmosphere, full of music and jovial pushing
and shoving, provided a stark contrast to the ominous mood
that had hung over our heads for the last couple of days.
In the distance, I was surprised to see Nungal
unloading food supplies from the Mága’an cargoes and
distributing them to the famished Anunna. They were only
fulfilling their function as planners, and I admit to being proud
of my children, even if they were sabotaging my plan to
weaken An’s troops. After the procession had snaked through
a maze of side streets and alleys, we finally reached the main
artery, which was littered with all kinds refuse of. I was swept
up by the euphoria of these wonderful moments. For a short
while, the affection of my children and the warm wind
caressing my face made me forget all my cares. A half a
Danna later, we were in front of the buildings of the Assembly
of the Ubšu’ukkinna.
After being lowered to the ground, I walked briskly into
the entrance hall and closed the door on the tumultuous crowd
behind me. My unexpected arrival in the midst of the
Assembly was met with a flurry of startled whispers. The
amphitheater had been turned into a banquet hall in the middle
of which Enlíl sat like a stone statue, looking as stunned as all
the others. The clatter of plates and silverware had stopped
immediately. My gaze was drawn to the lower section of the
Assembly, where Ninmah sat among my Kuku and several
Mìmínu, busily cooling herself with a large fan made of exotic
plumes. The heat had not kept her from draping herself in a
wide piece of fabric that was held knotted at the breasts and
that covered her entire body. The only sound to be heard in the
hall was the tinkling of her bracelets. I made a quick sign with
my head and the metallic clatter of the banqueters gradually
filled the hall again.
It was a merry spectacle, and not devoid of grotesque
comedy, considering the circumstances. The table was laid out
with royal silverware and piled high with all kinds of fruit,
dates, figs, lemons, grapefruit and melons from my Abzu, not
to mention spice and butter cakes. The participants were
simply stuffing themselves without gusto. I felt like laughing
out loud, but did my best to hold it back. Enlíl, who was
wearing a blue cape that covered his torso, resumed his
incendiary speech: “Famine has ravaged the countryside and
now reached our cities. The soldiers on Dukù are weak and
have become the shadows of themselves, and all because of the
blind trust that we had in a being who has not been able to
respect his commitments… here is the eternally absent one,
here is the guilty party!” Enlíl pointed at me without making
any effort to conceal his animosity. I looked for Damkina in
the upper rows of the Assembly and saw her looking rather
fatigued in the middle of two rows of Amašutum. The Nindiğir
(priestesses) all wore ample drapery of dark silk chiffon with a
dull sheen. None of them were participating in the festive
banquet of the males. I climbed the steps slowly, avoiding
stepping on the food and silverware that littered the floor. All
eyes were turned to my new light-complexion and to the
crystal that now hung from my belt. I greeted the Queen of the
Throne in passing with a kiss. After having exchanged
fraternal gestures of greeting with the Nindiğir, I took my
accustomed place in the top row. I was intrigued by the
insistence with which the others were staring at me.
A Mìmínu came up to me and offered me something to
eat. I gave him a quick look, then swept the food from the tray
and sent it flying down to Enlíl. My Alağní had just enough
time to dodge the projectile, which landed with a resounding
crash on the stone floor.
“You have just seen the inevitable trajectory that will be
ours if we do not stick together, I shouted at the audience. You
are stuffing your faces while your Alağní children are dying of
hunger! Rest assured, I am on your side, but I am against the
idea of going to war against our own sisters.”
Anšár emptied his cup in a single draught and almost
choked. He stood up and turned toward me:
“Has Nudímmud placed himself above the law? The noble
Am (lord) thinks that he is superior because he is sitting so
high up, but would he do us the honor of coming down and
telling the Assembly why he has been away for so long and
without justification?
- That’s easy enough, eminent Ušumgal. I have just
taken care of certain formalities involved in becoming
“the reflection of the Mistress of Life” and the Barag
(king) of the Uğa-Muš (People of the Serpent).”
Enlíl spoke up in a sarcastic tone of voice:
“Does the noble Sa’am wish to recover rights of his that
have been scorned and flouted? Damkina and you have
prepared your answers very well. Hers did not convince us in
the least at the last session of the Assembly, which you happen
to have missed. And yet you dare to persist. With all due
respect, how can you become the reflection of Nammu when
you don’t even have a Ğèš (penis).The fact that you have no
sexual organ is a secret to no one in the Assembly.”
Our eyes met and locked. Enlíl’s impertinence forced
me to put him back in his place and add some information of
my own:
“My son, my dear Niğziğál (creature), let me remind the
Assembly that we would surely have been able to negotiate
with our Ereš (queen) if you had not taken the inopportune
decision of destroying her drones. Conflict breeds conflict, my
son. However, let me convince the Assembly of my good will
once and for all. You can be the first of the Ušumgal to verify
what I am saying, since the powers you have recently been
granted permit you to do so. I call my Kuku as witnesses. I
will unlock my Šagra for a few seconds and openly reveal
myself to you. You will be able to see that you are wrong
when you doubt the sacred words of Ninsir (the Serpent
priestess), the Immortal Virgin.”
With that I opened myself to all who possessed the
power of Níama (life force). This moment may have lasted
only a few seconds for the others, but for me it felt like
forever. I could feel all the Ušumgal invisibly lunge and
pounce on me, like wild animals devoid of all moral scruples
—especially when it came to incriminating someone who did
not share their all-important opinions. After this necessary
torment, Enlíl cynically condemned my gesture as scandalous,
and the hall was filled with cries of protest: “What you have
unveiled to us is very telling, Nudímmud, Enlíl thundered.
Nonetheless, I, for one, remain unconvinced. You haven’t
fooled a soul. You have many secret powers and you could
easily have projected false information. But your great powers
and smooth words are not going to get you off the hook this
time.”
The greater part of those assembled seemed to approve
of my Alağní’s remarks. There was only one thing left for me
to do. Without thinking twice, I started to disrobe and expose
the pertinent changes in my physique. Ninmah suddenly stood
up and broke her silence: “You can spare yourself this
inconvenience, my son. Nammu has performed miracles with
your body. I can see that you are very powerful and that you
have learned many mysteries. Not only that, but no male
would be able to carry the great crystal without first having
received the sacred blessings of the Nindiğir (priestesses) and
the investiture of the Mistress of Life. I can confirm to the
Assembly that Nudímmud is indeed the Barag (king) of the
Uğa-Muš (People of the Serpent). By virtue of his functions he
is the only intermediary recognized by the laws of the Nindiğir
between the Ušumgal and the Eternal Feminine. Each one of
us owes him respect and loyalty. To break this engagement
would be to deny the ancient system of the Amašutum and call
it into question. May the Nindiğir who are present here, the
new ones who have been recently trained, never forget this. Yet
I must say that…”
An suddenly stood up and immediately ordered
Ninmah to hold her peace. My creator then moved over to
Enlíl in the center of the hall and pretended to affect a cheerful
mood. Ninmah remained standing in the tiers. We could hear
her bracelets tinkle, as if she were trembling: “Very well! May
all hear what I have to say, An announced. Let me ask my sons
Nudímmud and Enlíl to agree on the nature of these facts.” An
then turned to look at Ninmah, his face suddenly darkening:
“Nudímmud is right. We should not take any unnecessary risks
and we should remain united.”
Ninmah began shaking her head. Since I sat behind
her, I could not see her face, but I was fairly certain that her
eyes were throwing knives. Some people started whispering.
At the bottom of the amphitheater, where she had her place
among the Ušumgal, Ninmah sat down suddenly, unable to
voice what was troubling her. I had a strange feeling of
kindness toward this priestess, whose unpredictable moods
and impertinence sometimes touched me. Somehow, time
seemed to stand still.
An was just finishing his moralizing speech on the
cohesion of the Gina’abul when I snapped out of my thoughts.
Anšár stood up with a mocking face and walked up to the
podium. My creator left the center of the assembly, but Enlíl
seemed unwilling to follow suit. Anšár had to cast a stern look
to dislodge him. An’s creator now addressed the Assembly:
“My son An is very conciliating! However, I must add a few
facts concerning the dealings of Sa’am-Nudímmud. Please let
the Santana[114] enter the Divine Assembly of the
Ubšu’ukkinna. May the Kiulutim-Diğir-re’ene[115] be witness
to the treason of one of its own!”
The uproar in the audience suddenly ceased. One of the
side doors was opened and a Santana walked into the hall. She
had quite an impressive presence and wore a different costume
than the other priestesses. Our plantation experts usually wear
long bright-red wigs made of plant fibers that fall down to the
shoulders in thick curls. They dye their mouths with red
henna, also shade their eyes with red and underline them with
a thick streak of kohl that runs to the temples. Their costume
consists of a corsage and a white skirt that is tied at the waist
with a thin belt of kùsig (gold). Their feet are protected by
shoes that separate the big toe while keeping its shape. The
soles of these shoes are thick, permitting them to walk in all
different kinds of terrain. The Santana carried a long silver
trident in her right hand.
 75. Archaic Sumerian symbol that was used to refer to
the Santana or Šandan (plantation director, herbalist,
horticulturist, etc.). This sign corresponds to the suffix
GAL, which was used to refer to high dignitaries and
create the expression “chief of…”
 Anšár addressed the Santana in a self-assured tone of
voice: “Nindiğir (priestess) Se’et, would you please repeat to
the Assembly the words that were told to Enlíl, a few Ud (days)
ago.”
The Santana radiated calm and self-control, yet she raised
her head and seemed to search the room for Damkina. She was
too far away for me to see her features clearly: “I am bound by
my oath of secrecy and cannot slight my Ereš (queen), whose
humble subject I am.” Anšár suddenly lost patience and raised
his voice: “Munus (female) Se’et, it is your duty to respect this
Assembly and tell the truth. Tell us what Sa’am-Nudímmud
ordered all of the Santana (plantation directors) to do!”.
The priestess raised an accusing finger and pointed at
Enlíl: “Lugal (master) Enlíl has lost our trust, she said. What
he was told inadvertently by one of our own concerns his
discretion alone. I accuse Enlíl of high treason toward the
Nindiğir, I accuse him of having used the Amašutum for his
profit. Lugal Enlíl approached us in order to gain our trust. I
accuse him of having created discord among the Gina’abul in
order to foment internal disunity, because it is a fact that only
a war will permit him to come to power!”.
Enlíl stood up, deeply offended. Anšár’s reaction stunned
the entire assembly and created an unprecedented uproar: “You
blundering fool! Wretched little Erum (female slave), your
slanderous claims are as barren as your land. I will teach you
the lesson that you deserve and that your kind will remember
as long as they live.”
His words inflamed the atmosphere even the more,
raising it to a fever pitch. Without a moment’s hesitation,
Anšár unleashed the power of his Níama on the unfortunate
Se’et, dashing her to the floor with a deadly discharge. I was
paralyzed with terror. Mamítu’s nerves were strained to the
breaking point. She jumped out of her seat and declared: “The
Mardukù applies also to Anšár. By virtue of ME 43, Anšár is
bound to the Mardukù and the charter that Mamítu-Nammu-
Damkina and Sa’am-Nudímmud dictated in the name of the
Mardukù, which accumulates the knowledge and infinite
reason of the Amašutum. Any Anunna or leader of the Anunna
who violates the directives of the Mardukù and who scorns the
Ancient Serpent or one of its Nindiğir will be dealt with
according to the 32nd decree. The 32nd decree stipulates that
the Amašutum and their leaders have unlimited jurisdiction to
handle any problem that might arise among the male
Gina’abul or between them and other foreign nations!”
Anšár stepped back, leaving the body of the Santana
slumped motionless on the floor. He raised his head and glared
toward the upper tiers of the Assembly. Mamítu went on:
“Anšár is in conflict with the Ancient Serpent. ME 43 further
stipulates that the punishments to be incurred by the Anunna
and their leaders include imprisonment and death.”Anšár
raised his arms in a dramatic gesture and said provocatively:
“Then so be it! Go ahead and punish me…”
Šetir, the head priestess in charge of agricultural
planning, now jumped up from her seat and shouted: “You
stand accused!” All of the other Nindiğir (priestesses) in
attendance stood up and began to demand punishment with a
single voice. Anšár, taken aback, defied them by replying,
“Over my dead body!”. At this, the other Ušumgal stood up
and the din in the Assembly became deafening. It was a
chaotic and terribly dangerous situation.
An raised his arm to be heard. The Assembly gradually
quieted down: “What does the Ancient Serpent have to do with
all this and what is he basing himself on? His royalty has no
more basis in reality. His unquestionable incarnation, Tigeme
(Tiamata), and his divine executive Mamítu-Nammu no longer
even live in the same solar system. The Amašutum ideal of
Nalulkára and their dubious moral conscience and
unwholesome rituals no longer exist. Nothing more exists of
the ancient beliefs of the Nindiğir. The Amašutum have never
gotten around to understanding that their cult has always
stood in the way of social progress. Today, even the Kadištu
(planners) are against the ideology of the Ancient Serpent
embodied by Mamítu-Nammu and Ninmah. Do the Celestial
Cows present here today—the divine repositories of the royalty
of the Ancient Serpent—really feel themselves to be captives
among the male Gina’abul? No, because we will be able to
protect what is precious in the ancient beliefs of the
Amašutum. And so it is not Anšár who has a problem with the
Ancient Serpent, but rather the latter who no longer
recognizes himself in the decadent ideology of Nalulkára!”
I could not help staring at the lifeless body of the young
Santana (plantation director). For some strange reason, my
whole body was gripped by tension. I was against the idea of
going to war against the priestesses—our own race, our own
flesh and blood—but not to the point of just sitting there and
waiting for all of us to be massacred. A rain of fire was about
to fall upon us and I did not want to take the risk of seeing my
Kuku underestimate Tiamata’s determination. My creator’s
manipulative ideology was not in keeping with my own
philosophy, but I had to speak up to warn the others of the
sword that was hanging over our heads: “Tiamata has been
able to enlist the support of a minority of Kadištu (planners).
Her goal is to clean up this planet and definitively eliminate
the Ušumgal, the Anunna and especially the Mušgir
(Dragons), whom she considers to be a constant menace. Let
none of our Nindiğir (priestesses) fool themselves, Tiamata
and her allies are not going to bother making distinctions. No
one is going to get preferential treatment. As Barag (king) of
the Uğa-Muš (People of the Serpent), I recommend that the
Nindiğir cooperate with the male Gina’abul. As I have already
said, the only way for us to come out of this alive is to stay
united.”
Anšár took the opportunity to speak up again. He was
prepared to do anything to make his cause prevail: “Well! That
should explain Nudímmud’s strange disappearances, as well
as the taking of Mìmínu hostages at our Diranna (star gates).
We will be lenient with our son and trust his judgment in this
matter, for he has just given us some very valuable
information, and this speaks well for him. We are ready to do
everything for your sake, Nudímmud. We have accepted your
improbable creation of the Nungal, which already caused
conflict in this Assembly: we thought they were coming to spy
on us. Nevertheless, Nammu was able to persuade us
otherwise and plead for the cause of your planners. Your
companion is of the opinion that Tiamata’s gesture means a
break between the systems of Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia)
and Anduruna (the star Dubeh). Son of An, to demonstrate our
unbending loyalty and to confirm your superiority over us as
royal descendant of the Ušumgal lineage, as well as to fulfill
your role as king of the Uğa-Muš (People of the Serpent), we
beseech you to assume your responsibilities and lead your
troops into battle. Nudímmud, you will take position in the
vicinity of the northern Šèka of Dukù, where Tiamata’s troops
are known to be massing for the attack. Our child will be
assisted by his feathered Nungal. The planners can
demonstrate their loyalty to us by marching against the
invaders on our side. Tiamata wants to take the Ubšu’ukkinna
over by winning the battle of Dukù. We know her strategy: to
strike fast and hard from the air and then pursue the battle on
the ground. It is imperative for us to control the air space over
Dukù. While our son blocks the skies, and once the battle has
begun, only then will we reveal and deploy our troops
concealed throughout the Ubšu’ukkinna. In this way we will
rout the forces of our Ereš (queen). Now may the noble Sa’am-
Nudímmud, who can change lamentation into jubilation, do
his work.”
There was a sigh of relief in the Assembly. While my
Kuku’s decision enabled me to reposition myself politically
among the Gina’abul, it was clear that he was putting me on
the spot, not to say in an extremely dangerous position. He
was sending me and the Nungal to the slaughter! How ironic,
all my children were about to be destroyed by the very person
who ordered their creation. Tiamata did not know the exact
troop strength of the army that was waiting for her in the
Ubšu’ukkinna, which probably explains why she sent us the
Nungal with their provisions. She wanted them to be
distributed to the Anunna who would march against her. Our
queen had a sense of fairness; although she was determined to
win, she did not want to spoil her victory with a complete
military disaster for her opponent.
Crushed by the oppressive atmosphere, we all stood up,
full of mixed feelings. I saw Ninmah’s slender silhouette as
she made her way through the crowd of Ušumgal in the
direction of the exit. Before leaving the hall, she stopped in
front of the body of the priestess on the ground, hesitated for a
brief instant and then walked out. I would have liked to shout
and say that the Nungal were not prepared for this kind of a
mission, that they would all be sacrificed for nothing, but I
kept silent. Our rules concerning the rights and duties of
descent are implacable: I could not act against a decision taken
on my behalf by one of my Kuku (ancestors) at a session of
the Divine Assembly. I had no choice but to accept Anšár’s
forced allegiance. In other words, the Nungal and I were the
price of victory.
The Nindiğir (priestesses) bowed to me one after the
other, as if paying their last respects. The Ušumgal were
content to just stare at me. An came up to me and said: “Don’t
disappoint us, my son.” then gave me a hug—for the first time
in my existence. He was no doubt worried that my defeat
would become reality, because if I failed, my creator would be
the next in line at the front.
I walked slowly to the bottom of the amphitheater and
joined Mam in the middle of the hall. The priestesses were
gathered in a group around the paralyzed body of Se’et, the
unfortunate victim of Anšár’s murderous insanity. She seemed
to be staring into infinity, but her eyes were still moist, and
they were green… I recognized them immediately! These
were the eyes of the priestess who had given me the holy
Únamtila (plant of life) during the initiation of the fire of the
Aš. She had also been one of the three priestesses who had
officiated at the sacred ceremony of my enthronement. HER
again! I had never been aware before that this priestess was
Nammu’s official attendant. My companion had obviously
selected for her following the best priestesses initiated in the
great principles of life. The meaning of the name Se’et
transposed into the Emešà syllabary confirmed her role as
Santana: “the omen of the plowed earth“. Mamí seemed
heartbroken. She shook her and called her name, using the
special pronunciation Sé’et, which means “omen of life” or
“force of life” in Emešà. Nammu asked me to do something:
“Revive her, otherwise we will all die! You can do it!” she
called out coldly.
It was not too late to try to reactivate her energy centers;
the Muladhara and Anahata-Šagra were still spinning, though
rather weakly. I had never tried this technique before, but I
knew that it could work thanks to the Níama (life force).
Without a second thought, I placed my right hand on the
priestess’ forehead, and her chest suddenly contracted. A deep
groan emerged from her mouth and her eyes blinked back to
life.
I stood up and saw the awe in the faces around me.
Everyone looked at me as if I had just done something
unbelievable. Anšár, Enlíl and a handful of Mìmínu still on the
premises had witnessed the scene from a distance. The
expression on Anšár’s face did not bode anything good, but
the enthusiasm of the Amašutum forced him to keep his peace.
He could not resist the opportunity to quip that Nudímmud
“really did know how to turn lamentations into jubilation“.
Damkina gently kissed the young Sé’et on the forehead, then
took my hand and pulled me forcefully to the door. She
continued pulling me through the crowd outside until we came
to a flower garden steeped in heady fragrances. Although no
one could keep her composure as well as she did, now she
began babbling away and kept repeating, “My son, my son, my
son…” I had never seen her in such a state.
Ninmah sat quietly on a stone bench not far away,
watching us in the shade of an obliging cedar. Her piercing
gaze penetrated us like a bolt of lightning. She had not lost an
ounce of her mystery. Ninmah seemed to be thinking
something over. After a brief moment of hesitation, she stood
up and walked over to us with nimble steps. “I wanted to
thank you for having let me teach Enlíl.” she said. “I entertain
myself with him. He is brilliant, you can be proud of him.
Nevertheless, your Alağní is very stubborn. He wants to take
your place and is very tenacious. We have our differences, and
I am not sure that I will be able to hold him back forever… By
way of thanking you for your gesture on my behalf, I owe it to
myself to reveal the secret that I had promised to tell you.” I
told her that we had made no such agreement, but she insisted:
“I am a Nindiğir and I have taken an oath on Nalulkára… this
whole thing has gone much too far! I may be overheard, but
that doesn’t matter anymore. This secret is known by all of the
Ušumgal and I don’t see why it should be kept from you
forever, especially since it concerns you directly. There is no
doubt about your kinship with the Abgal from Gagsisá (Sirius),
it is apparent both physically and spiritually. Your weaknesses
and awkwardness are merely the expression of a developing
being. You have innate faculties that belong to the Kadištu
(planners) and that fascinate your Kuku. These are the same
skills as the ones that made the Abgal the best emissaries in
our galaxy and that enabled you to revive my… the…
Mamítu’s attendant just a few moments ago. As you can see, I
know everything! Now is not the time to tell you the story of
the beings from Gagsisá; that will be Nammu’s task soon. An
Abgal like you can only be the product of the genetic traits of a
famous Abgal. Your creator indeed assembled you with his
genetic material, and this gave you the appearance of your
Kuku and their abilities, but he also equipped you with 65%
genetic material from your mother. I know this person, and you
know her, too.” Ninmah looked at Nammu. “Your creator was
able to obtain the genes of this female on Nalulkára to create a
being who would completely suit his taste. Mamítu-Nammu-
Damkina is not only your Ereš (queen) and your Dam (wife),
but also your Ama (mother). That is why you both look so
much alike and also why your biological rhythm is
synchronized with hers. That is what I wanted to reveal to you.
Oh, I almost forgot! If you want to escape Anšár’s trap alive, I
advise you to keep this in mind when you are face to face with
Tiamata up there: be true to yourself. Now I must leave you.”
I was almost surprised not to be getting angry. Angry at
whom? at what? my creator? fate? Mamítu had told me often
enough that my destiny was none other than the one that I had
chosen for myself, and the Kadištu (planners) had recently
confirmed this. As for An, I could suddenly see him in a
“pleasant” light for once. Having heard these revelations about
my origin, I could no longer comprehend my creator’s deep-
seated misogyny. As a matter of fact, how could he have
decided to assemble me by using the genetic material of one of
the most famous priestesses without somehow having some
admiration for the doctrine of the Amašutum? Ninmah’s
revelation forced me once again to look beyond appearances.
Mam took me gently in her arms. She was as moved as I was.
Her large eyes suddenly became moist. This strange reflex was
beginning to take on meaning for me. There was no time to
lose. It was my duty to fulfill the mission that had been
imposed on me. I gave Mam a hug and left her without further
delay. I also wanted to keep her from seeing my own turmoil.
 The Fall in the Dream of Eternal
Time
“I am the child of Yesterday, and here I am Today creating
Tomorrow… Yesterday I crossed the threshold into death and
today I have come to the end of my journey, for the mighty
goddess opens the door for me that protects the entrance to the
way… Verily, I have traveled the ways of the Duat without
hardship… I am the Lord of Metamorphoses, for in me I
possess, virtually, the form and essence of all the Gods.”
The Egyptian Book of the Dead, chap. 229(24)
“And Elohim said: ‘Let the waters swarm with swarms of
living creatures, and let fowl fly above the earth in the open
firmament of heaven.’ And Elohim created the great sea-
monsters, and every living creature that creepeth, wherewith
the waters swarmed, after its kind, and every winged fowl
after its kind… And Elohim made the beast of the earth after
its kind, and the cattle after their kind, and every thing that
creepeth upon the ground after its kind; and Elohim saw that it
was good. And Elohim said: ‘Let us make man in our image,
after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of
the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and
over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth
upon the earth.’ And Elohim created man in His own image, in
the image of Elohim created He him; male and female created
He them.”
Book of Genesis, 1: 20-27, Massoretic Bible(25)

▼
Ğírkù-Tìla Nudímmud / Eš-ME-
Ilimmu
I went to the outskirts of the city where our aircraft were
parked. Crews consisting of Anunna and Mìmínu (Greys) were
busying themselves around the Gigirlah of the Nungal, but had
their hands full trying to contain the turbulent crowd. My
children came up to me and asked for the reason of this sudden
excitement. I told them that we had been given the order to
take up position around the northern Šèka (opening) of Dukù
where Tiamata was assembling her forces. This news was
greeted by a wave of fear, and shouts of protest filled the air. I
tried to calm my children as well as I could and told them to
trust me. The Nungal then formed groups around the aircraft to
board them in orderly fashion. Within instants the mood had
switched from euphoria to despair. None of my Kuku
(ancestors) or the priestesses bothered to show up and
demonstrate their support. Once again, I had this bizarre
feeling as if my sense of time were dilating; it was like hearing
the foliage of thousands of trees rustling in my ears. I boarded
my own craft and threw a last glance over the crowd to see if I
could spot Damkina, but in vain.
I did see Enlíl making his way toward my craft through the
tumult. When he had joined me in my cabin, he stared at me as
if he wanted to scrutinize every fiber of my being. My Alağní
(clone) never missed a chance to use his Níama to probe into
the inner life of others, which had become another of his
unpleasant habits. Enlíl seemed to have a complete disregard
for civility. He had probably been hoping for a brief lapse of
attention on my part to catch a piece of information. I
reminded him that there was no point in scanning me like this.
It was useless in the case of a being who had the powers of the
Ušumgal, not to mention someone who had just bared himself
in front of the Assembly, as I had done. Enlíl replied in a tone
of voice combining affection and irritation, saying that he had
come simply to express his support at this difficult moment,
nothing more. With a wave of the hand, I gave the Nungal the
signal for immediate take-off. In my opinion, Enlíl had come
to make sure that I was indeed going to the Šèka of Dukù, and
possibly even to savor my departure and imminent downfall. I
reassured my Alağní and told him not too worry about me: I
had every intention of coming back from this battle alive.
Enlíl’s reply to my irony was drowned out by the deafening
roar of hundreds of Gigirlah simultaneously preparing for
take-off. I made a farewell gesture of the head and took my
seat inside the cabin. At that particular moment, and in spite of
what I had been told by the Kadištu (planners), I still had no
clear idea about where this insane chain of events was going to
lead.
As the vessel gently rose into the air, I cast another glance
outside to see if I could make out Damkina’s face amid the
crowd. Although I did not see her, I knew that the Queen of
the Throne could not be far away. She was out there
somewhere, witnessing her son’s departure for battle, full of
pride and terribly concerned at the same time.
My Gigirlah was in the last squadron to leave the city of
Adhal, and must have looked like a dust mote being swept
away by the wind. We circumnavigated the globe in record
time, and I was surprised not to have seen my creator’s Uanna
anywhere. He must have decided to look for a good hiding
place in one of my Abzu (subterranean world). It was
upsetting for me to realize that he had once again failed to
contact me at a critical moment. But for now, I had to take
position at the head of my fleet in stationary orbit near the
northern Šèka (opening) of our sovereign planet. It was an
impressive sight. Not too far ahead of us, starkly silhouetted at
the green-fringed rim of the planet, thousands of enemy
spacecrafts were hovering silently in the atmosphere. A glance
was enough to see that we were vastly outnumbered. To keep
my units from falling prey to rampant terror, I took the
precaution of broadcasting a message of exhortation and
reiterating my order not to break rank. An agonizing waiting
game began. The fear was palpable as we scoured the sky for
the slightest sign of hostile activity. Drenched in sweat, I tried
to establish contact with the enemy. All the radio receivers on
my ship were on the alert to detect and intercept any
communication, but not a sound relieved the nerve-wracking
silence. For all the vastness of space, I realized that there was
no room here for any feelings either of love or sadness.
The suspense was becoming intolerable. I decided to leave
the formation and attempt to fly alone through the enemy
lines. Tiamata’s ships maintained their positions and let my
Gigirlah weave its way through their silent ranks unhindered. I
could not imagine what it would take to defeat such a huge
armada. Here and there I could make out huge ships of
unknown provenance. I tried once more to establish contact
with the queen’s fleet, but again there was no reply. What was
the purpose of all this stillness and silence? The more I
became accustomed to the vast array of vessels, the better I
could see that there were ships of every conceivable size and
type. There were even some long-distance Iníuma, looking no
less daunting in their immobility than in devastating action. I
approached one cautiously and glided past its sinister fuselage,
which bore the eagle-shaped insignia of the royal line of Ušu
(the constellation Draco). These were the famous Kingú[116],
whom shared the kingship of Urbar’ra (constellation Lyra)
with the Ušumgals who survived the mines of Turnam. The
Kingú left the Gina’abul of Urbar’ra at the time when the
Mušgir mistreated the Amašutum, which is why the royal line
Gina’abul split in two[117]. They were related by blood to the
royal lineage of Urbar’ra (the constellation Lyra), of which my
Kuku (ancestors) were the last survivors. The Kingú had left
the Gina’abul of Urbar’ra at a time when the Amašutum were
victimized by the Mušgir (Dragons), causing the royal lineage
of the Gina’abul to split into two camps. Our queen had been
very thorough indeed and managed to rally many different
colonies to her cause.
My progress at the heart of the enemy lines was becoming
increasingly difficult because of the great density of
spaceships. The constant movements of the Kadištu ships far
above us reassured me somewhat, but their obstinate silence
was no less unnerving. My craft made an easy target, yet was
able keep weaving through the unknown without encountering
any hostile response. All at once I spotted Tiamata’s
impressive Gigirlah flagship in the middle of the fleet. I knew
that I was not mistaken when I saw the emblem of the two
intertwined Muš (serpents).
There were too many other ships protecting it for me to
approach. Since the situation was critical in the extreme, I sent
a telepathic message to the queen’s ship with an offer to
negotiate. The queen’s response arrived post haste. I heard her
voice say: “My son, the time has come for the Amašutum to
regain control of Mulmul by force and to put an end to the
tyrannical madness of your Kuku.” I objected that there was
still a chance for peace, but she answered that it was too late:
“We have already tried to negotiate, but your Kuku shot down
our robot emissaries. It is my duty to avenge this outrage with
their blood. Look at the great armada around you, there is no
turning back… I advise you, Nammu and all you Nindiğir and
Nungal to seek shelter. It is not your fate to die in this place.”
Two Kingú (royal) Gigirlah had just appeared to block any
further advance, but I tried to maneuver between them. An
unknown voice resonated in my cockpit: “We have no wish to
exterminate an Abgal of royal lineage and his planner
offsprings. We only want to fight against the treacherous
mixed-blood who ordered the destruction of nearly 400 of our
peaceful drones.”. After that, more Kingú ships converged on
me to force me to turn back. There was nothing to do but
retreat. This move was also supposed to intimidate our fleet
and force it to break ranks.
Seeing that my troops were determined to hold their
positions, the Kingú (royal) unit loosed a well-aimed salvo
without prior warning. Force can often suffice to earn the
privilege of respect. Within seconds, all hell had broken loose
in the upper atmosphere of Dukù and the Nungal were
hopelessly dispersed.
Our hasty retreat back to Dukù heralded a disaster. We had
failed our mission. There was no way that I could ignore the
gravity of the situation and the fact that it would be my
creator’s turn to face Tiamata’s military might. My heart was
beating so hard that it ached. I felt completely alone with my
inability to deal with the situation as I had been ordered. I
already imagined my name being erased from all the official
monuments. We landed at the esplanade outside of Adhal.
That was where our expedition had started, and it was from
there that panic now spread in all directions. The Mušgir
(Dragons), who had finally come out of hiding, seemed to
have taken control of the city.
The first thing I wanted to do was to return to the
Assembly, where a dense crowd had already gathered. Four
mean-looking Mušgir were enough to keep the curious at bay
with their Ğidruğíri (lightning spear). I was permitted to enter
the hall without difficulty. Neither my creator nor my divine
mother were on the premises. The only ones there were Anšár,
Kišár and a few Mìmínu (Greys). A loathsome Mušgir with
viscous skin was busy talking with Anšár. I did my best to
smile when I informed my two Kuku (ancestors) that the
enemy did not want to fight against any planners. I also
reported on the great number of ships in the enemy fleet and
the presence of Kingú (royals) among our queen’s already
over-equipped forces. Anšár had a fit of rage and loudly
insulted both Tiamata and the Kingú, calling them traitors. The
unsightly Mušgir (Dragon) gave me a defiant look and
provoked me by accusing us of having retreated out of
cowardice. I did not respond to his attack. Anšár tersely
informed me that An had announced his willingness to go into
combat as soon as he had heard of my rout on the radio. My
Kuku had ordered An to fly to the Abzu (underground world)
and organize some of the Anunna warriors into elite units to
counterattack the queen’s air force.
My ancestral oath of obedience and submission to my
Kuku prevented me from giving my assessment of the
situation—which I had failed to improve when I had the
chance. I preferred to let them keep wondering about me and
not mention what Tiamata had said about wanting to fight
against my Alağní (clone), Enlíl. I left the Gina’abul of the
Assembly with two things on my mind: to talk with Enlíl and
find Mam as soon as possible. As far as the first was
concerned, I knew exactly where I would find him.
Walking into the foyer of the Assembly, I spotted my
Alağní in the shadows of the colonnade. I had had the feeling
that he was there from the start. He seemed to be embarrassed
about having been caught spying on us. Before me stood the
single decisive factor in this sudden downward turn of fate:
ENLÍL—the “mixed-blood”! All the fury of the Gina’abul
seemed to be concentrated on this being created by no one but
myself with the genetic material of our race. I made no bones
about predicting the certain failure of An’s mission: namely, to
confront the enemy head-on, defeat Tiamata and save the
Gina’abul of Mulmul (the Pleiades). I was sure that Enlíl
would immediately see his advantage in this state of affairs. A
situation like this could only further his ambitions… and, after
having witnessed the terrifying spectacle in the skies of Dukù
with my own eyes, mine as well. Indeed, what chance did he
have of being able to carry the day? I was taking a great risk in
siding with our enemy, and so giving Enlíl the opportunity to
triumph where I had failed in everyone else’s eyes. At that
moment, I glimpsed for the first time the possibility of seeing
my Alağní (clone) be eliminated for the sake of the Nindiğir,
whom I had sworn to serve and protect. His impertinent ways
and constant troublemaking was a growing threat to the fragile
universe of the People of the Serpent.
I advised my creature to go immediately to Anšár in the
Assembly Hall: “Keep him entertained, as you always have,
make him relax. Anšár has a great deal of esteem for you,
because you symbolize and concentrate all the knowledge of
the Gina’abul. When you have gained his confidence, then tell
him of your wish to participate in the air battle, in case An’s
mission were to fail.” Enlíl flashed a smile. Now, he probably
felt respected and important in my consideration. My Alağní
thanked me warmly and strode briskly into the Assembly Hall.
Back outside, I could see that the entire city had fallen into
chaos. Some Anunna of dual polarity rushed over to me,
visibly frightened, and pressed me to tell them what the future
held in store for them. I had no way of given them a clear
answer, but advised them to find shelter as fast as possible.
Not far away, I saw Nimah accompanied by two Anunna each
carrying a heavy chest. They probably contained the genetic
archives of our race that she was trying to hide in a safe place.
She made a discreet gesture in my direction and continued
proudly on her way.
The Mušgir (Dragons), who had probably been ordered by
Anšár to keep the situation under control, were typically brutal
in containing the agitation of the crowds. I joined my Nungal
outside of the city. Scores of Anunna and Mìmínu (Greys) had
gathered around the planners and our spacecraft, such that I
had a lot of trouble making my way through the multitude.
Damkina, who had also joined the group of Nungal, threw her
arms around me as soon as she saw me and hugged me. Her
presence did me a lot of good, but I could see that all was not
well with her.
 We were distracted suddenly by a strong flash of light in
the sky: this had to be my creator’s air force emerging from
the Abzu and jumping into the fray. Their mission was to
engage Tiamata’s forces and secure the air space over Dukù to
keep her from reaching the ground. Terror-stricken by this
sight, the crowd dispersed in all directions. I climbed into a
Gigirlah and tried to calm the planners, then ordered them to
jump into their vessels and head for the Abzu of Dukù without
delay. Mamítu was against this as long as the Nindiğir
(priestesses) were not part of the force: we had to make them
assemble immediately! For some reason, I had completely
forgotten that aspect; this meant that we would lose precious
time in finding and gathering them. We were going to land
smack in the middle of a battle. All things considered, the best
thing to do was to dispatch a third of the Nungal to the Abzu
now, deploy another third to watch over our spacecraft, and let
the last third do the work of looking for our priestesses. Our
queen’s strategy would give us a respite of one or two Danna
(hours) at most. There was no time to lose.
We had been in the city for a quarter of a Danna when we
saw An’s fleet of Gigirlah return in haste and land in the
middle of the fields. Our group had found over twenty
priestesses and dispatched them to the launching area. Unlike
a short while before, the city now seemed practically deserted;
the streets were patrolled by units consisting of Anunna
infantry, Mušgir (Dragons) and Mìmínu (Greys). They gave us
scornful looks as we hurried past them: in their eyes we were
no better than cowards who had been unable to hold our own
against the enemy.
One Mìmínu informed me that I was invited to attend a
banquet organized by Anšár with the intention of sealing the
fate of Lugal (master) Enlíl. I replied that I was not about to
attend a banquet while we were still in the midst of war.
Hearing this, two of the Mušgir burst out laughing. I had to
raise my voice to put them back in their place. Their cynicism
disgusted me; they seemed to have no respect for authority.
One of them even jostled me so hard that I fell on the ground.
Another took advantage of the situation to try to strike me with
his Ğidruğíri (lightning spear), but I managed to roll over just
in time and dodge the blow. The Nungal were paralyzed with
fear. I did not feel particularly proud of myself just then. My
mother reacted more swiftly, taking a step back and using her
Níama to neutralize the Mušgir who had knocked me down.
This unexpectedly violent reaction spurred my impulsivity and
made me lose control.
I grabbed Ugur and unsheathed the incandescent blade,
which began to emit a strange howling sound. I swung the
blade at my aggressor to make him back off, but the howling
Ugur cut the Mušgir in two in a single stroke. We were
shocked and horrified. The Ğírkù happened to have a feature
that I had not known about until then: when the bearer of the
Ğírkù is upset or angry, there is an interaction between the
Níama (life force) and the crystal that makes the deadly blade
instantly appear and go into action. For her part, Mam was
getting exhausted from the mental effort that she had been
exerting to keep the other Mušgir in check. She had to release
him to keep from fainting on the spot. This only increased the
terror of our aggressors and made them flee for their lives
without looking back. My mother started crying and laughing
nervously at the same time. The Nungal, stunned by the
incident, bowed in respect. I helped Mam back to her feet and
held her as we continued our way in silence. Looking down a
side street, we could see spaceships in the distance hovering
above a group of low hills. Oddly enough, Nammu kept her
eyes riveted to the ground, as if trying to keep the sight from
reaching her awareness. It was clear that An’s troops had just
been subjected to the same humiliation as we had and were
retreating back to the ground. We had to speed up our search
before the disillusioned troops of my creator decided to attack
the city.
Within a half a Danna, disgrace had become a reality: Enlíl
had requisitioned An’s fleet and flown off with an army
comprised only of Anunna and Mìmínu (Greys). The latter had
left the fields and crops in a desolate condition. Meanwhile,
An’s troops had disembarked and begun to occupy the city of
Adhal.
We had been able to find about 190 of the 350 Nindiğir
that were involved in the application of the Mardukù. That was
not much, but Mamítu seemed to know where the rest of the
planners might be found. She mentioned a network of caverns
with fossil light underneath the city that we could use in order
to reach the sacred mountain. She called this place the Duat, a
name that I had never heard before and that must have been
another of the secrets of the priestesses. Mam explained that
the Duat was a realm in which the powers of the higher and
the lower regions became one, a sort of inverse mirror in
which the most sacred and secret mysteries became visible.
The body of a great Kadištu (planner) had been inhumed there
so that his soul could detach itself from the material world and
ascend to the Light[118]. Before his body had been lain to rest,
the defunct Kadištu had been submitted to the ritual of the
Gates of Life that enabled him to return to the place of his
celestial origin. The hermetic ideology of the priestesses was a
never-ending puzzle to me.
We were about to leave for this place when we were
overtaken by a sudden change of circumstances. While my
Kuku were happily getting drunk within the protective
precincts of the Assembly, our soldiers were busy looting the
city, foraging through depots that had been empty of supplies
for a long time. In no time, they had managed to annihilate our
efforts to apply the Mardukù.
The crowds were out of control and sacked the houses one
after the other: silverware, mirrors, colored fabrics, cedar
wood chairs, lemonwood stools, ebony caskets were strewn in
wild array like so much junk. The civilian population of
Adhal, composed primarily of Anunna of dual polarity and
Mìmínu (Greys) in the service of the city, was running amok.
Not even the royal apartments were spared. I thought about
Mam’s many crystals, but she told me it wasn’t important:
“You own the most precious of all!”, she added.
Our planners seemed nervous, which was perfectly
understandable under the circumstances. We were the helpless
witnesses of a wanton display of collective madness. The
Mušgir (Dragons) kept aloof and did nothing to stop the
mayhem; as a matter of fact, they seemed to be amused by it.
We were stuck in the middle of this suffocating atmosphere
and were not making much headway to get to our ships outside
of the city. I held my mother firmly by the hand. Our soldiers
no longer seemed to care about the fate that was awaiting
them. Why should they, when their leaders had nothing better
to do than to make merry inside the sheltering walls of their
sanctuary?
I climbed on a wooden chest to make myself heard by the
soldiers and civilians. I warned them that the battle that was
about to descend on Dukù and throughout the Ubšu’ukkinna
would blacken our race and the heavens forever. I reminded
them that I had been called upon to rule them and that they
could trust me. All of them recognized me as the son of An,
the holy repository of the divine commandments. I heard the
echo of my words resounding through the city. Fear spread
like wildfire and filled the streets of Adhal with a frightful
clamor. I advised the civilians to flee to the great mountain to
the east of the city by going through the forest. They would
find shelter there and be able to board Gigirlah that would take
them to my father’s Uanna.
An himself suddenly appeared in the midst of the tumult
and made his way toward me. A solemn hush fell over the
crowd. My creator confirmed what I had just said and
promised that he would station his Uanna in orbit above the
southern hemisphere of Dukù. With a wave of the hand, he
gave the command to get underway. The civilian population
lost no time in abandoning the city, leaving behind them a
deserted and devastated labyrinth of dark and filthy streets.
Our soldiers, disheartened, covered their retreat. As I watched
them, I could not help thinking that the worst would come, in
spite of the fact that we still had many troops hidden in
different parts of our solar system.
My father asked me to accompany him to the Abzu
(subterranean world). I felt compelled to turn him down
because I did not want to be separated from Nammu anymore
and it was my duty to stay with the Nungal. An stopped and
looked over the planner of Uraš and the motley group of
Nungal that escorted us. I saw from his eyes that he knew that
I had found out the secret of my creation: “Be careful, my son,
see that your mother and children do not distract you too much
from your duty to your forefathers and the Anunna,” he said
without a hint of emotion. He wished us good luck all the
same and arranged to rendezvous at the Šèka (opening) of the
southern hemisphere of Dukù in 20 Danna (40 hours). That
would be more than enough time to find out how the battle had
turned out. We saluted each other formally just as a squadron
of Gigirlah sped at low altitude over our heads. An left us in
great haste and seemed to be headed for the Assembly
complex.
As if the situation were not difficult enough, the sky was
soon filled with innumerable enemy aircraft. This could only
mean that Tiamata’s ground forces were about to land. Enlíl’s
contribution to the battle did not seem to have been any more
successful than mine or An’s. We stuck to our plan and took
advantage of the empty streets to make rapid progress, but
when we reached the outskirts of the city, I noticed that a
strange stillness had fallen. Not even the birds were singing.
The fields beyond were no different from a desert now. A
distance of only about 30 Nindan[119] lay between us and the
Nungal and the waiting Gigirlah. Our advance was brought to
a standstill by an odd phenomenon: it was as if the sun were
setting for the first time on Dukù. Looking up, we saw an
awesome sight: a vast fleet of enemy aircraft was preparing to
land. I gave the Nungal a signal to make them take off without
waiting for us, but the dust and sand stirred up by the blast of
the aircraft overhead kept them from hearing me. Fortunately,
I was still able to use Kinsağ (telepathy) to send them a
message. The billowing clouds of sand were getting thicker
and thicker all the time, but the take-off of the Nungal’s
Gigirlah released a comforting flash of light in the darkness.
The impact of so many aircraft landing all at once made the
earth tremble and heave. A few of the enemy Gigirlah peeled
off in pursuit of the Nungal. All the cities on Dukù were about
to succumb to a holocaust from above. Adhal was a primary
target for the enemy because all of my Kuku happened to be
there at the time. The vanity of Tiamata’s children was
boundless and would probably exact a very high price.
Our escape route was cut off now, so we had to return to
the city as quickly as possible. There, in the streets, the enemy
would not be able to maneuver as easily. Tiamata’s army was
already disembarking and forming ranks to march into battle.
The ground literally shook from the tread of so many warriors
and the distance came alive with their banners and pennants
waving in the wind. The sign of the intertwined Muš
(serpents) was making its re-appearance on Dukù. The sight of
this formidable army convinced me that this would be a fight
to the finish, without quarter or mercy. Several hundred of our
own soldiers had been deployed from their hidden positions to
engage the first wave of enemy infantry in battle. The
headlong clash between the two fronts could be described only
as cataclysmic. Our hasty retreat into Adhal was accompanied
by the dull sound of metal clashing against metal thousands of
times over. Behind the city walls, the rear guard of the Anunna
army was waiting for its turn in deathly stillness, each soldier
holding his Rìg’ğíri (lightning spear) at the ready. We saw
some Mušgir among the ranks suddenly dematerialize to slip
into the KUR dimension (lower dimensions). Soon, all we
could hear was the frenzied war cries of the enemy marching
on the city; they had made short shrift of our brave defenders.
In the throes of growing anxiety, we picked our way
through the ransacked streets of Adhal. By chance, we ran into
a party of fifty Nungal who had been sent to find us. This
helped restore a sense of security, however fragile. By the time
we reached the main artery, the enemy forces had already
broken through the barricades that protected the city. From all
directions came cries of despair. Civilians who had been
unwise enough not to flee were running every which way in a
desperate attempt to escape the inevitable. The cries and din of
crackling weapons were coming closer and closer, like an
inexorable flood tide. The invading army had penetrated the
city from all sides. The enemy’s rapid advance could only
mean that Tiamata wanted to capture my Kuku as soon as
possible. Indeed, this was why our queen had concentrated her
military effort on Adhal in the first place. It was also a major
strategic target because of its huge Diranna, which the queen
wanted to prevent us from using for our escape.
Many buildings had been set on fire. Suddenly, we were in
the midst of the fray, completely unarmed except for my
crystal. I took it in hand and activated the incandescent blade,
which shot out with the same impetuous howl as before. We
were now face to face with our foes and could see them from
close up. The Ğírkù (sacred lights) of Tiamata’s Amašutum
mowed down everything in their path. The howling of the
Ğírkù made for an uncanny concert of bloodcurdling
dissonances. The priestesses wore chain-mail armor made of
solid kùsig (gold). Mam shouted to say that these were the
Nindiğir from Ğišda (the Hyades) and Sipazianna (Orion). The
Annuna were so overwhelmed with fear themselves that they
fired their Rìg’ğíri (lightning spears) into the enemy ranks
without even bothering to take aim. The priestess’ weapons
unleashed fiery blasts of unspeakable effectiveness,
decimating their hapless foe. We dropped to the ground in a
desperate attempt to take cover. Now we were left to
ourselves, with no hope of mercy from the enemy. The
terrified Nungal hastily gathered some weapons that were
lying around.
An enemy unit spotted us and immediately charged. This
was it! I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with air, then
lashed out at the enemy with the desperate force of instinct.
Ugur sliced through my attackers with ruthless precision. That
was the price of survival. Within seconds, we were in the
midst of the fighting, beset by the enemy on all sides. We
formed a tight group with Mam in the middle and plunged into
a struggle for our lives. A number of Nungal were cut down by
the unrelenting fire and the crystal blades wielded by the
priestesses. The stench of slaughter and death filled the street,
while the wild melee raised a cloud of dust so thick that we
could no longer see the strength of the enemy force. The air
was ablaze with the flashing blades of the Ğírkù. But for all
our determination and ardor, we were steadily losing ground.
 76. The heroic and age-old struggle between the sexes is
depicted in this bas-relief of an “Amazonomachy” (frieze
535, British Museum).
 Suddenly a flight of Mušgir (Dragons) appeared above
us and dispersed throughout the city. They were flying to our
rescue from the KI (3rd dimension), taking the enemy by
surprise with their notorious Agazugal (“crushing from
behind“) tactic. They overpowered the priestesses from
behind; if they did not die of a broken neck on the spot, they
were torn to pieces by the cruel Mušgir. Now it was Tiamata’s
Amašutum who were being slaughtered. The flying dragons
were so drunk with killing that they devoured the entrails of
their victims and bit their heads off with their monstrous jaws.
The Mušgir had not forgotten that the best way to finish off the
Amašutum was to cut off their heads! We watched this
horrible spectacle with trembling limbs while the street
disappeared under pools of blood. The ensuing confusion and
stupefaction allowed us to slip away from the fighting and
hide in a side street. We were down to twenty and some of us
were wounded. Still in shock, we tried to catch our breath and
come back to our senses. My confusion must have emitted a
certain vibration, for Mamítu had to shake me and implore me
to go over to a small shrine at the corner of the street that we
lived on, about 5 Nindan (ca. 100 yards) away. If I stared at
her without recognizing her immediately, it was because her
clothes and face were covered with the blood of our brothers
and sisters. The rest of us were in no better condition, to say
nothing of the heat and our nervous fatigue.
The counterattack of the Mušgir (Dragons) had
successfully stopped the advance of Tiamata’s army. A
provisional calm settled over Adhal. Nonetheless, the enemy
had encircled the city and we were sure that the Kingú (royals)
were going to be sent into battle in short order. The streets
were filled with cries of pain and lamentation. We had to
stumble over piles of bodies to get away. My clothes and even
my skin seemed to be soaked in the rank smell of blood. I felt
soiled and sick, my stomach tied up in knots. When we finally
reached the shrine, I ran to a nearby well and threw up. My
mother tried to keep me from doing so, but I was quicker.
Then she told me that we would have to go down this well to
reach the mountains.
 It was slow going down the well because many of us were
wounded. When we reached the bottom, we were faced with a
drop of about 1 Gi (3 yards) into the underground river. There
was nothing to do but jump into the dark one after the other.
The effect of the water was immediate and surprising: I felt
completely refreshed and invigorated. That was something that
I had experienced when washing, but it felt even better this
time. It was as if I were already familiar with this feeling of
fullness. My mother also seemed to be savoring the effects of
this fortuitous bath. The water seemed not only to have
washed away the filth and stench of battle but also cleansed
my entire being. The Nungal did not appreciate their forced
contact with this element and lost no time in wading to the
other side, where they patiently waited for us.
 77. Sa’am’s group rushes into the underground passages
of the city besieged by Tiamata’s forces. In the foreground,
Nammu, followed by several priestesses, Sa’am and Nungal.
 We resumed our march, listening anxiously to the echoes
of our own footsteps to see if it was not the enemy in pursuit.
The path followed the sparkling underground river that would
lead us all the way to the mountains. The rocks at the bottom
of the water were glowing with a gentle, diffuse light that was
strong enough to illuminate the cavern. Signs and marks were
carved here and there on the ground. Who would have
thought that there were so many tunnels and caves beneath the
city? Mam explained that the Duat contained the two paths of
life. I realized that she meant the path of the sparkling water
and the earthen path that we were walking on[120]. The
watercourse represented the Milky Way and led north to the
entrance to the mountains. This was the place where rites of
passage and initiations into the knowledge of the soul were
held. These caves represented the Primordial Chaos, the sacred
reference of the divine midwives that Mam called the Gir[121].
This underground realm had once been the site of pilgrimages
and secret rites of regeneration. Mam pointed to an inscription
carved on the rock wall:
Hail to thee, son of the stars, You are our beloved.
We, the Gíg (the Dark) and Gir, welcome you.
We are the ones who surround your Secret.
The Holy Duat is the place of your birth as much as
your grave.
Here, we bring you to life in the morning and bury
you in the evening.
In the Morning, your choices lead you here, to the
place of the Mysteries.
When your Zišàğál (incarnation) takes place in our
wombs, our hearts rejoice.
You, who are hidden under our veil and knows all our
secrets,
We reassemble your limbs and flesh in the name of
the Source, the one who is unique.
 We give birth to you as the image of the Sons of the
Water.
Our uterus are your house and our hips your garden.
We kiss your image when you enter us,
We honor you when you emerge from our thighs.
We are the nurses who offer milk without ever
weaning you.
When you suckle our breasts, we kiss and lick your
body.
We hold you up in our arms and we are addressing to
you in words of glorification.
You, who knows the richness of the Ba (soul), you are
the benevolent light that illuminates the ones who have
gone astray.
At night, we wash you and purify your body. We, the
Ğiš (Dark Stars), grant you the funerary offering.
We, the midwives and the mourners, relieve your soul
and beseech you to leave this lifeless body.
The Mistresses of the Horizon accompany you
upstream to the hall of light and will guide you to the
Celestial Land.
At the break of Ud (day), you endure the funeral
praise and prayers.
Take your flight as a bird tonight.
May the sky embrace you with its arms,
May you find your divine family again.
The way there cannot be revealed.
We sanctify the place where your body rests,
Its location illuminates the celestial and the terrestrial
Duat.
Tomorrow morning, you will awaken among the
living.
 Glory be to you, Son of the Water.
I understood that the Gir of the Duat bore by natural
childbirth “chosen” beings whose names and deeds would
spread beyond the region of Ubšu’ukkinna. Why do our
priestesses bury the dead, when it is our custom to burn
corpses? My mother turned to face south and pointed out with
a trembling hand that, in that direction, lay the tomb of a great
Kadištu (planner) with the peculiar name of Ašme (“sparkle“),
no doubt one of the Sons of the Water mentioned in the
inscription. “These places are so ancient that they are filled
with truth. Each stone of fossil light at the bottom of the river
was brought there by a Gir. Each Gir is a Nindiğir who is able
to bear a child Kirišti[122] but few of them have been able to
bring such an event about in the past.” she explained in a low
voice. The Nungal seemed to understand what she was talking
about, which gave me the opportunity to ask them why the
Sukkal had been chosen to complete their initiation as Kadištu
(planners). They answered that when Tiamata found out what
the Ušumgal were up to, she entrusted the Nungal to the
Kadištu. The latter in turn entrusted my children to the Sukkal,
who completed their initiation as planners. At the end, it was
the caste of the Kadištu who took the decision of sending the
Nungal to Mulmul (the Pleiades) in order to place them under
the guardianship of their creators.
I listened to what my children were telling me with a
heavy heart, dipping my feet into the water with the glowing
stones. The intention of the Kadištu was clear: they wanted the
fate of the Nungal to be placed in the hands of Mam and
myself. Embarrassed at having had to show my offsprings my
ignorance about this, I asked Mam about the role of the
famous Sons of the Water, the Kirišti. My mother answered
that I would get the explanation from Ugur, the crystal that she
had given me. I pressed her by asking why the inscription said
that the Gir made a show of grief and mourning when they
escorted the body of the deceased. One of my Nungal who had
overheard our conversation took the liberty of telling me that
the lamentations of the Gir were supposed to liberate the soul
from the body. They enabled the soul of the deceased to relax
the tension that he had accumulated throughout his existence
and to manifest what he would not have had the time to
express during his life or at the time of his death. The Nungal
ended his comments by giving me a definition of a Kirišti:
“The Kirišti are Sons of the Stars, Kadištu emissaries who
work for the Source. They never dissociate Gissu [the Shadow]
from Zalag [the Light] and work in territories where these two
energies have become dissociated. Theirs is not an easy task,
they are often directly involved with beings who separate
Gissu from Zalag and worship only darkness.”
The surfaces of this underground space had been
carved not by nature but by human hands. The high vaults
were made of rough stone blocks from which hung the roots of
the trees growing in the forest above us. We soon came to a
vast cavern in which the river expanded into a gigantic pool.
Water from the mountains also flowed into it before the river
resumed its course at the other end. The water of this great
pool was strangely calm. On the edges of this expanse of water
stood a number of chapels carved out of the bedrock in distinct
geometric shapes. The basic form was that of a tall stepped
pyramid. Candles could be seen burning inside them. Nammu
announced that the rest of our priestesses had taken shelter
here.
My mother then began to make our presence known by
chanting in a strange tone of voice. Her incantations echoed in
the depths of the tunnels and galleries, and soon the sound of
other voices could be heard. Priestesses who had hidden
themselves behind huge blocks of stone began to come into
the open and approach us without fear. Sé’et, my mother’s
maid, was in the lead. She appears behind large blocks of
stones and gazed at me intently, and her gaze once again sent a
chill up my spine. There were some 150 priestesses and they
all seemed quite intimidated. Mam took her by the hand. She
reassured the others and offered that they come with us to the
ships awaiting in the mountains.
78. Sé’et appears, hidden behind large blocks of stones.
 We resumed our trek through the excavated rock. Our
priestesses walked at a fast and solemn pace, creating a
particular rhythm that filled the space. I could not help being
concerned. Mam led the procession with Sé’et. We came to
another inscription where the paths of water and earth crossed:
“My sister, if you have fulfilled your obligations, you can enter
the house of Seke’ér[123] at the break of Ud.”
Now we parted company with the underground river
and began walking through a narrow shaft hewn out of the
rock. The shaft sloped upwards and became so narrow that we
could no longer walk upright. I was upset by this and asked
Mam if there was not another way out, but she did not even
bother answering. Soon the shaft widened and we were able to
stand again. When we came to another shaft leading off to the
right, Nammu told us to continue that way. I kept staring at the
end of the shaft that we were leaving. There must have been a
cavern there, probably the hall of light that was mentioned in
the first carved inscription in the Duat. “This is the path that
will lead us to the break of Ud” my mother told me. I made the
group speed up the pace.
My suspicions were confirmed when I heard noises at
the end of the shaft. I signaled a halt to silence the slapping
sounds made by the sandals of our Nindiğir (priestesses) on
the stone floor. We could hear the dull clash of fighting
coming precisely from the “break of Ud [day].” The group was
suddenly struck with terror, but there was no other choice but
to go on; this was the only way that would bring us to the
landing platforms at the top of the mountain and the waiting
spaceships. We had almost no weapons, so I told the
priestesses to gather stones. This obliged us to return to the
Duat to find enough stones of the right size and then to climb
back up the narrow shaft. I then asked all of our Nindiğir to
take off their sandals, for the fighting that was awaiting us
would probably be very agitated and deadly.
My stomach was a knot of fear again as I led the group,
together with the Nungal who still had weapons. The end of
the shaft was blocked by a huge rock that fit exactly into the
opening. We could hear the din of combat coming from the
other side. Exasperated by stress and fatigue, I ordered Mam
to go ahead and open the door as quickly as possible. Nammu
made her way to the head of the column. Her tone of voice
was as curt as mine had been. When she pointed out that the
door was closed from the outside, her lips hardly moved. She
suggested that I use my crystal as a Gúrkur in order to go
through the door via the second dimension and gain access to
the opening mechanism from the outside. I did not like the
idea, but we had no other choice. I was also concerned about
the hazards of this maneuver, but Mam reassured me that the
passages of the Duat and Seke’ér also existed in the second
dimension…
I brushed Ugur with my hand and made the universal
energy rise to my Áhna-Šagra. The crystal began to vibrate at
a high frequency and instantly propelled me into the bluish
decor of the KUR-GAL. Without hesitating, I walked through
the stone door. The realities of the KUR-GAL and the KI were
visually superimposed for a brief instant. That did not make
sense! I was fascinated and horrified by what I suddenly saw:
Mušgir (Dragons) were hiding in the KUR-GAL, completely
oblivious to the fighting that was raging nearby. They
considered me as an intruder, of course, and immediately
sprung at me. I was faster and made it back to the KI
dimension in time to activate the opening mechanism… only
to be set upon by other assailants. I instinctively activated
Ugur’s blade and increased my strength exponentially.
Memory fails me at this point in the story. I have no
images or sensations left from that particular moment. I must
have been knocked out by the shock of the attack. In any case,
I think that the door failed to open, for I dimly recall sensing
that the mechanism was stuck. Had I had enough time to force
it to open with Ugur? I think I must have. When my memory
clears up again, I find myself caught between my group and
the enemy.
The Nungal and priestesses shoved me roughly into the
midst of the melee, knocking me down on the ground, Ugur
still in hand. A group of civilians had been ambushed by a
detachment of Kingú (royals). I was finally able to see what
the arch-enemies of the Ušumgal looked like: they were
smaller than my Kuku (ancestors), or midway between myself
and the Ušumgal. Their skin was lighter than ours and they
were extremely agile. There were albinos and red-skinned
individuals who were particularly aggressive. Some had a
strange third eye on their foreheads. They moved with great
swiftness in spite of their heavy chain-mail armor of solid
kùsig (gold). The Kingú liked to cry out to terrify the enemy
and liven up the carnage. We were in a large space that looked
like a hangar, and I could see several Gigirlah on fire. The
cries of the wounded were drowned out by the clash of
weapons and the crossfire of the Rìg’ğíri (lightning weapons).
The Nungal threw themselves into the fight under cover of a
hail of rocks. Mam and Sé’et were protected by our
priestesses.
Dislocated and torn bodies lay all around, and again
the stench of blood rose and stung my nostrils, making my
head throb. What more to say? A raving madness had taken
possession of everyone, a murderous rage motivated only by
the desire to stay alive. At the extremes of existence, the
instinct for survival is so overpowering that you can surpass
all other fears and override what is left of moral scruples.
I was too slow for my opponents and sometimes lashed
out at empty space. My desire to get it over with drained me so
dangerously that I had to resort to using my Níama (life force).
I immediately became more alert and could wield Ugur with
much more precision against those unfortunate enough to
come within range of the blade. The combination of my Ğírkù
(sacred light) and Níama filled me with an unprecedented
feeling of euphoric combativity. This turned into rage when I
thought of the Mušgir who were holed up in the KUR-GAL.
The way to the spaceships literally became an uphill battle,
costing us many losses. I will never forget the sight of the
fatally wounded priestess lying on the blood-soaked ground
with the right half of her body shorn away, begging me to
finish her off. I watched, horrorstruck, as Ugur plunged into
her body and put an end to her suffering.
 79. Last fights in the ship hangar at the top of the
mountain in the city of Adhal. The survivors painfully
approach the ships that will allow them to leave the war on
the Dukù.
 Although we outnumbered the enemy, it was our rage to
live that finally prevailed, driving the Kingú into a disordered
retreat. Some were able to run for their lives, others were not
so lucky. At the end we managed to save a few of the Gigirlah.
We were all dazed by the sudden fury that had lashed
out. Our clothes were tattered beyond recognition. The
stillness that descended on the scene of the skirmish, broken
only by fits of uncontrollable weeping and the sound of our
passing, was no less uncanny. We were in no condition to
count our losses, which must have been considerable. The
survivors filed without a word into the few Gigirlah that had
remained intact. It was tight fit; there were not many flying
disks left and we had to fill them to capacity. Fearing another
Kingú (royals) ambush, I urged the priestesses and Nungal to
hurry and board.
Our preparations for departure were proceeding well
and in absolute silence. It was then that the absurd instinct for
survival of some of our species turned against us. The Mušgir
(Dragons) that I had seen hiding in the KUR-GAL suddenly
appeared and surrounded us with their usual brutality. I feared
the worst, but it turned out that they only wanted to embark
with us for the flight. I objected that there was hardly enough
room for us, let alone anyone else. They were probably
waiting in the second dimension for us to be killed, so that
they could take our place in the Gigirlah. The Mušgir
apparently did not want to take any unnecessary chances. If
the Ubšu’ukkinna were to fall, the Mušgir would be left to
deal with the priestesses of Ğišda (the Hyades) and
Sipazianna (the constellation of Orion), who were all equipped
with Ğírkù that permitted them to track the Mušgir down into
the KUR-GAL and KUR-BALA dimensions.
The dragons had encircled us. Some were enjoying our
fright and played at appearing and disappearing out of our
three-dimensional field. My mother contacted me
telepathically and urged me to use Ugur. I promptly followed
her advice, let the crystal blade flash into action and wielded it
at our would-be aggressors. Just as suddenly as they had
appeared, the Mušgir disappeared. I was in no mood to
speculate on what had just happened and what might happen
next, and hopped into the nearest Gigirlah. I lost no time in
ordering all the ships to prepare for take-off and shift into
phase speed four.
About forty Gigirlah took off one after the other from
the platform of the natural Unir (pyramid) that had just been
turned into an open graveyard. Mam and I were in the last ship
to leave, and so we had to wait for the right moment. This type
of Gigirlah had only four seats, but some of the ships carried
five passengers. My mother and I were accompanied by Sé’et
and a Nungal.
From above we could see that the battle for Adhal was
still raging. The forest between the city and the mountain was
burning in a number of places. The greatest chaos and the
most fighting were still in the beleaguered city. Our soldiers
were hopelessly outnumbered by an enemy that, from our high
vantage point, looked like a horde of insects. Tiamata’s forces
had little trouble subduing the Adhal and the surrounding
province. The survivors who had endured a thousand perils
and managed to escape from the inferno, but who were slowed
down by exhaustion in their flight, were cut down by the
ruthless troops of the queen of Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia).
The enemy was taking no prisoners and giving no quarter to
the last survivors.
80. An’s ship sets off in pursuit of Tiamata.
 Soon we were above the vast plain, where the fighting
seemed to be drawing to a close. We could see the movements
of the troops in action. Tiamata’s armament struck terror into
the hearts of the defenders with its power and efficiency. The
relentless thrust of the assaults kept the Anunna from
recovering and mustering their courage anew. The enemy
troops advanced in tight formations that were impenetrable to
the charges of the units that were still in a condition to fight.
The last Anunna split into several corps, but were no match for
the endless waves of assailants. Their war machines had been
put out of commission and reduced to plumes of smoke and
fire. The plain was being overrun with the flags bearing the
symbol of the intertwined Muš (serpents).
Triumphantly mowing down whoever crossed their
path with their Ğírkù, the victors had to pick their way among
the piles of dead bodies, slipping in the blood of friend and foe
alike. I had never seen anything like this. At the same time, I
could not help thinking that, in spite of all our differences of
opinion and genetic variations, we were still one and the same
people[124]! It was only the vanity and egotism of a few that
was responsible for this tragically absurd situation.
 81. Impression of a Babylonian cylinder seal depicting
the flight of Tiamat (Tiamata), symbolized by a great dragon
chased by the god “Marduk”; i.e. the administrator of the
Mardukù, who is none other than Nudímmud’s son.
 Messages kept coming in on the cockpit radio. A report
came that Tiamata’s flagship had been forced to flee, and it
was gradually confirmed. Our military effort had apparently
been concentrated in the skies; Enlíl and his son Maš’ aircraft
had forced the queen to abandon the field. On the other hand,
we had lost the battle on Dukù and, according to the
information that kept arriving, it seemed that the entire
Ubšu’ukkinna (the star Maia) System had fallen into the hands
of the enemy. An’s Uanna and a fleet of Iníuma had been
forced to leave the Abzu and join the chase after the queen.
We had little choice ourselves but to leave the planet and
rendezvous as soon as possible with our forces for the battle in
space. This news sent a chill up my spine because it fit
perfectly with the revelations that I had been given by the
Kadištu (planners). Over the radio we received sporadic
broadcasts of coordinates intended to guide the survivors of
Kiulutim-Diğir-re’ene[125].
It was impossible to use the Diranna (star gate) at
Adhal, which was still closed. Where would we find an open
gate? My mother sent a message in Emešà to the Nindiğir
(priestesses) who had left in pursuit of Tiamata. The little that
I knew of their language did not allow me to understand her
message, not to mention the fact that our priestesses often used
codes that I had not learned yet. Still, I guessed that the answer
that came back must be giving us coordinates. Nammu
confirmed this by ordering me telepathically to set course for
Zagdu, one of the major cities in the South of Dukù. My
mother edged her way to the front of the cockpit and typed the
flight plan into the system.
All along our way, we could see a swath of destruction
and carnage below. In some areas, the light of the sun was
hidden by dense columns of smoke and dust. The arid
countryside was dotted with corpses, many of which had been
stacked together like so many broken branches. The
determination of the invaders had prevailed on Dukù. Patrols
had been dispatched everywhere to hunt for survivors. Nor far
out of Zagdu, we sighted a group of what must have been a
hundred Anunna wandering aimlessly across the valley floor,
crying and frantically motioning to us with their arms. They
would have to be sacrificed. Where were all of our ships?
What had happened to our army? There had to be a conspiracy
behind this swift defeat of our sacred planet and of the
Ubšu’ukkinna as a whole. I was only beginning to get an
inkling of what it might involve.
As we approached Zagdu, the enemy detected our
presence and launched an Uru[126]. Our Gigirlah’s defense
system automatically went on alert. Nammu took over the
controls and headed straight for an enemy column that was
marching into the city. Our vessel flew low over the city wall
and escaped the Uru as it smashed into the ramparts and
exploded. We took advantage of the surprise to turn around
and strafe the Kingú (royals) positions in the vicinity of the
Diranna (star gate). There was no time to lose: Nammu
accelerated and forced her way into the star gate. The blast
reverberated on its walls, producing such a shock wave that I
thought that we had been hit and were exploding in flight.
The cabin automatically filled with the diaphanous
cushioning fluid and the flashes of light that I had observed in
my last trips through a star gate. We floated in the shimmering
fluid and relaxed as our ship was sucked into the crimson
tunnel of the atemporal vortex. The four of us were overjoyed
at having made it.
We left Ubšu’ukkinna (Maia) and the countless stars of
Mulmul (the Pleiades) behind at a dizzying speed. I turned
around in my seat to look at the other passengers and spied a
familiar silhouette at the rear of the Gigirlah. A Mušgir
(Dragon) had stowed away and was writhing around in the
liquid as it started to gel. We were in the midst of the
propulsion phase. I twisted in my seat to reach for Ugur, but it
slipped out of my hands as the liquid finished congealing.
Time suddenly seemed to have become suspended as well.
When we reached maximum velocity, the deep golden-
brown colors changed to rainbow hues and the fluid began to
liquefy again. I frantically struggled to get my hands on Ugur.
My traveling companions did not understand the reason for my
sudden agitation until the Mušgir lunged at me. The battle that
we thought we had left behind had caught up with us—and the
dread that came with it. I fought the Mušgir with a mixture of
fear and loathing. His body had been rendered even more
viscous by its immersion in the fluid, so that he kept slipping
out of my grasp. The dragon had the advantage of using my
tattered clothing to get a hold of me and fought for his life.
Sé’et was able to get hold of Ugur, but seemed paralyzed by
the sight of the crystal. She was unable to intervene, being as
horrified by our assailant as she was hypnotized by the green
quartz crystal. Mam and the Nungal crouched in their seats,
still completely paralyzed by the unexpected attack. The
Mušgir tried to tear off my arm with his monstrous jaws., then
he tried to strangle me, while the claws on his wings lacerated
my sides. It took a great effort to free myself from his
powerful claws and fend him off. Then I mentally released an
Ugmu, the formidable cry that kills on the spot and that I had
used against our king.
The Mušgir’s body took the full brunt of the blow and
collapsed internally, swelling at the same time. The liquid that
still filled the cabin spared us a more gruesome sight. The
hideous dragon was dead, his distorted corpse suspended like a
broken puppet.
Sé’et handed me Ugur, still trembling, then threw her arms
around me. She looked at me and I knew that her eyes were
trying to express her gratitude. Was this her thanks for having
revived her at the Assembly or because I had defeated the
Mušgir? Sé’et seemed to be as unfathomable as her mistress.
Mamítu replied telepathically to say that she was not only
Sé’et’s mistress but also her genetic mother. Without betraying
any particular emotion, she added: “In a way, you are brother
and sister…”
We lay back in our seats and tried to relax as well as
we could under the circumstances. I was exhausted from the
stress of the past few Danna (hours). It was going to be a long
trip, and traveling through atemporal vortices was trying
enough due to the extreme pressure exerted on the cabin. Not
only that, but we were using a Gigirlah, a type of vessel that
was not intended for long-distance travel, as were the Iníuma.
We had to be very careful not to push our spaceship beyond its
limits.
 I wondered how many of us were using the atemporal
vortex at the same time to fly to an unknown destination?
Mamí was hunched over the flight console to figure out the
directions that we had received. It must have been a difficult
calculation because she had to work it out twice. She seemed
to be preoccupied with something, so I moved closer and tried
to communicate with her telepathically. She did not answer.
Her eyes were aglow with emotion and anger. With my Kinsağ
(telepathy) I heard her repeating to herself: “She can’t do
that!”. The coordinates on the screen were undecipherable, but
the last numerals were followed by the words: System of Ti-
ama-te (Solar System)!
This meant that we were pursuing a course that would
take us to the center of our universe, the main region of
planning, where life existed in the greatest variety of forms.
This was where the holy Namlú’u (the tall human beings)
dwelled. Tiamata was withdrawing to Uraš (Earth) in an
obvious attempt to involve the Kadištu (planners) in the war.
Once again, I saw that the course of events was completely in
keeping with what the Kadištu had foreseen. It was time to tell
my mother what those predictions had been. I told her that the
Kadištu were not going to intervene and that this conflict
would “produce a material transformation of the perceptions
of our universe. The administrative and executive organization
of the Kadištu will be temporarily blocked from a part of this
universe because of Tiamata’s insurrection”. As I repeated the
planners’ words, I wondered why I had not made this
connection before?
Mamítu-Nammu had worked for many Muanna (years)
on Uraš (Earth) in the name of our people and queen. At this
particular moment she feared the worst and turned down our
offers of consolation. Sé’et nevertheless approached her and
took a breathtaking tone: “We no longer have a choice! We
need to create a time leap.”.
Terror seized me. Once again, I remembered the
Abgal’s words and his warning. I try to warn theme and
protect us from additional danger: “No, we can’t do that, I
shouted. This will wake up Ía’aldabaut!”. Sé’et hissed
annoyingly.
 “Who told you such a thing? Nammu asked in panic.
- One of the Abgal present in the moon of Éšárra. A
certain Wa, he seemed to know you both.
- Wa? Sé’et sighed… Yes, we know him well.
- Then you have to listen to him! He told me that
further jumps in space-time might wake him up. Who
is this Ía’aldabaut anyway? I understood he would be
Barbélú’s son.
- Never say his name, answered Sé’et coldly. We don’t
have time to explain this to you. He is the creator of
the Kingú and possesses monstrous powers. Our
temporal drifts also allow us to hide from his keen
sight.”
Sé’et looked sternly at her mother, ordering her to take
out her crystal. Nammu spontaneously nodded and laid his
daughter down in a corner of the ship. The Nungal who was
with us approached the scene, as if intrigued:
“Don’t be alarmed, Sa’am,” Nammu said. Sé’et has a thought
which can act on portions of the Universe. It creates a very
real simulation which determines the laws of these portions of
worlds.
- But does she have a sufficient knowledge about the
laws of the Universe? I asked.
- I know the laws of the Universe from having
experienced them, Sé’et replied dryly. You have to
trust me!
- How can you claim such a thing, you, a simple
maid?
- My blood has been flowing in your veins since your
first initiation, it should allow you to synchronize with
my state of consciousness. You know I say the truth.
Now let us work for peace!
- Answer my question before, what would happen if
your knowledge of the laws of nature was incomplete?
 Nungal’s reflection amazed us:
“Fragments would appear in the simulations, he added.
Defects would arise in the Universe and its new realities.
- Indeed,Nammu said. She dreams every Ud (day) to
avoid this accumulation of errors, as any organic body
usually does in nature, but also our many computing
stations and our machines.
- I’m asking for twenty Udàr (minutes), demanded
Sé’et. That no one wakes me up before!
- It’s too long, Nammu replied, totally panicked.
- We don’t have the choice. We will not allow the
Ušumgals to appropriate Ti-ama-te (the Solar System)
like vulgar Mušgir. This drift needs more attention and
I need your support. Let’s go!”
Mam took a little blue crystal from her pocket, which she
sparkled before the eyes of her strange maid. With his gaze
riveted on the small quartz, Sé’et launched into his
cosmological simulation. His eyes gradually grew heavy to
flutter and finally close. My mother took a serious tone and
asked us to count the Udtar (seconds) to get twenty Udàr
(minutes): “She has to wake up before that time, otherwise the
quantum leap will cause us to drift into a space-time with
unforeseeable consequences.”
The Nungal began his mental calculations as I
programmed the alarm clock on the dashboard of our device.
Nammu held her daughter by the arm. They seemed to be
melted in one being, unit in their meditation. A thousand
questions rushed through my head. Who was this Sé’et to
pretend to defy the natural laws of the Universe and thus
create simulated realities? Producing spaces in which we could
interfere seemed to me beyond my cognitive faculties.
How to distinguish the real world from hybrid worlds?
The wait seemed endless to me. Sé’et’s time drift required
extreme concentration, I couldn’t distract Nammu. Sé’et
looked like an apprentice trying to copy the Source! How
could we participate in such a necessarily failing nature
simulation?
 The fateful limit came to an end and Sé’et was still not
awake. The Nungal marked the end of the timing under
Nammu’s attempts to wake her comatose maid and daughter.
The slaps in the face had no effect. In a terrible terror, Mam
exclaimed: “She has never been this far, she must be
awakened!”. Desperate, she ordered me to shoot Ugur out and
cut off his arm. A panic took hold of me:
“You have to create a shock, it will wake her up. Don’t
worry, his member will grow back.
- I can’t do such a thing!
- You have to do it. You are the only one who can lay
a hand on her!
- Me?
- My daughter is Barbélú, I put her body in the stone
bed. She is the only one who can get us out of the
temporal paradox. As long as she is asleep, we will
remain locked in this singularity.”
Stunned, without even thinking, I threw out Ugur’s blade
and sharply severed Sé’et’s left arm. Her awakening was
accompanied by a shout of terror that propelled me violently
against the wall. We faced each other, our eyes colliding like
wild animals: “This time, will my alarm clock synchronize
with yours?” she said to me as desperate.
I did not understand until then the meaning of the word
“Primordial Matrix”, the one so sought after by An and his
fathers. The pact made between the Mother of Origins and
Nammu finally revealed itself to me. In order to thwart the
Ušumgals and their dark plans, Barbélú mingled within the
world of Gina’abul in the body of a simple Amašutum. Hidden
under the protective wing of Nammu, it then only had to
abandon her daily to time drift in order to consolidate its
multiple worlds in which we are all confined without our
knowledge. I took Sé’et in my arms and placed her delicately
in her seat. A sharp pain paralyzed her. We were all struggling
and needed rest. Did the time jump go well?
 Overcome by fatigue, I closed my eyes and promptly fell
asleep, basking in the rainbow-colored light that shimmered
along the walls of the cabin. The others were just as tired as I
was and let themselves drift off into restful sleep—except for
Mamítu, who remained disconsolate. What were we going to
find out? Only a sleep separated us from our next reality …
[127]
Part IV - Archives and
Decoding
 The Mythological Significance
of the Tree (augmented version)
The mythological correspondences that I will discuss in
this annex should give you some elements to understand the
secret of immortality. I am referring to the immortality that
involves the Dark Stars, that is, the “trees” of Sumerian
mythology as well as traditions from all parts of the world. I
will have occasion to develop this topic further in Ádam
Genisiš (Volume 2 of the Chronicles) and in my essay Eden :
The Sumerian version of Genesis, when we will learn more
about the “fault” in Eden (the garden of Ninmah) or in Edin
(the Mesopotamian plain). This material is as complex as it is
universal, and so it deserves our full attention.
According to the Bible, there were two trees in Eden:
the trees of the knowledge of good and evil and that of
immortality. In my essay Eden, I comment extensively on the
meaning of the first tree, basing my analysis on translations of
many Sumerian tablets. In The Secret of the Dark Stars
(Volume 1 of the Chronicles) and this part, we will investigate
the significance of the tree of immortality. We will take stock
of this second tree and what it contains exactly.
Some deities of our traditions knew its secret since
they were, according to the texts, perfectly immortal. If
mankind had fully possessed this secret in the days of Biblical
Eden, it would no doubt have known the supreme knowledge,
that of transformation and of traveling beyond the usual
perceptions of the ego world.
The secret of the tree of immortality is none other than
self-liberation and transcendence outside the self. We have
seen in this work that it is obtained by tangible (sexual) or
mystical (meditative) way. The Gnostics also knew him and
mentioned him many times in their texts.
Regarding bodily fluids exchanged during sexual
intercourse, we will note the various notes of the Christian
theologian bishop (315-403) Epiphanes of Salamis, who
denounces these practices in his Panarion (treatise on
heresies), particularly in his notice 26 devoted to the Gnostic
sects he claims to have frequented. Its goal being to record all
human perversions from Adam to his time:
“She (Noréa / Nuréa) made it clear that the remains torn
from the Mother above
by the Archon who made the world and by the other gods,
angels and demons who accompany her,
must be gathered from the power
which is found in the bodies that flow during intercourse.
[128]”
Epiphanes of Salamis Pan., 26,1-9
In this volume we saw that the Sumerian word for tree,
ĞIŠ, could be deciphered into the Sumerian and Akkadian
syllables ĞI6 (dark, night, dark being) and IŠ (mountain,
mountain in the sense of star, burning, ardent), which together
make ĞI6-IŠ, the “Dark Star(s)” or the “Dark and Ardent
One(s).”
In numerous folk traditions throughout the world, the
secret of immortality is related to a divine woman. In the
Indian texts of the Râmâyana and Mahâbhârata there is the
story of the churning of the ocean that permits the extraction
of the beverage that gives the gods their immortality, wich is
called Soma or Amrita. One important, but often ignored detail
about this topic is that it was only from the sap of sacrificed
“trees” flowing into the ocean that the gods could find the
ingredient that turned the water into an elixir for immortality.
The Vedic myth of the goddess Suparnî, drawn from the
Brâhmana texts, gives additional information on the hidden
significance of the elixir. In this legend, the goddess Suparnî is
subject to the patriarchal laws of Indra and the gods. In order
to redeem her soul (like the Gnostic Sophia), Suparnî is forced
to provide the gods with Soma. In Sanskrit, the name Suparnî
means both “beautiful bird” and the “well-winged one.” I have
often had occasion to mention that birds, and especially doves,
symbolize both the Mother-Goddess and the Holy Spirit.
Transposed into Sumerian particles, the name of the goddess
makes the phrase SÚ-PÀR-NÍ, which literally means “the
knowledge (or wisdom) that spreads to man.”
“Do not communicate them [these Mysteries] either to
those who serve the eight powers of the great Archon, they are
those who eat the menstrual blood of their uncleanness, and
the semen of men saying, ‘We have known true Gnosis and we
pray to the true God ‘.[129]”
Codex of Bruce, Gnostic Book of Iéou, B17
In the same way, the ancient Germanic Saxons had a
special name for the World Tree: Irminsul. This word can be
transposed into Sumerian syllables to make IR7-MÌN-ŠUL, lit.
“the dove, companion of man.” These two examples bring us
back to the myth of the Garden of Eden, where man was
secretly initiated into the secrets of the “trees,” or the “Dark
Stars.”
The Sumerian word that referred to a menstruating woman
is UZUG2, or Ú-SUG4. These similar terms can mean several
things: “menstruating woman,” “something dirty” (menses) or
“a person excluded from society.” Ú-SUG4 can also be written
Ú-ZUG4, which means “impure or forbidden food.” Now, how
did the idea of food suddenly come into the picture? As you
may already have realized, what is being alluded to is the food
(or drink) that is forbidden to humans; the one that permits a
certain kind of understanding and, depending on how it is
used, longevity. The ancient Sumerians had many words for
prostitute - although many of these terms are not related with
prostitution and their assimilation probably results from our
current misunderstanding of the subject - and Ú-ZUG happens
to be one of them:
“When a woman has a discharge of blood and blood is
flowing from her body,
she will remain unclean from her period for seven days.
Whoever touches her will be unclean until evening. […]
If a man lies down to sleep with her, the filth of his period
will overtake him.
 He will be unclean for seven days. Any bed he sleeps on
will be unclean. “
The Jerusalem Bible, Leviticus, 15:19 and 15:24
The tantric rituals of India often required sexual
intercourse during menstruation, which is the time when
feminine energy is at its acme. The members of certain Hindu
religious sects, like the Vamachari Saktas, drank menstrual
blood during their rituals in order to obtain the divine energy
of the goddess Shakti (the Mother-Goddess, primordial
energy). In the same way, many depictions of this Hindu
goddess showed her standing or recumbent, her legs spread,
letting her precious menstrual blood flow out of her vagina.
This “nurturing blood” was drunk directly at the source by
worshippers and gods alike. For the Hindus, women are the
bearers of sacred energy, and they are as knowledgeable about
the virtues of menstrual blood as they are about the
transformative power of sexual activity.
With Bishop Epiphanes of Salamis, the discourse is
reversed and is rather slanderous in order to shock his readers
and his audience:
“After having mated for the pleasure of fornicating, they
raise their own blasphemy to heaven: the good wife and the
husband collect in their hands the flow which flows from the
virile member and stand upright, eyes to heaven, with their
filth in their hands.
This is how the so-called Stratiotics and Gnostics pray.
By presenting to the ‘Father of All’ what they have in their
hands, they say:
‘We are ‘give this gift, the body of Christ.’…
They do the same with what comes out of a woman when
she has her period.
They collect the menstrual blood that comes from her
defilement
and take it in common and say in the same way, eating it:
‘Here is the blood of Christ’. [130]”
Epiphanes of Salamis Pan., 26,4,5-8
 Previously in this book I also mentioned that the
Sumerian word PÈŠ (fig or fig tree) is undoubtedly related to
its homophone PEŠ5 (spider), another of the great world
symbols of the Mother-Goddess. The homophone PEŠ means
“uterus,” “entrails,” “precious,” and so lends itself readily to
sexual metaphors. In ancient times, the forbidden fruit of the
tree—of the “Dark Stars”—happened to be a fig. The
Egyptian word for fig was Dabu, which can be transposed into
Sumerian as DA-BU4 “the powerful light,” that is, “the
powerful energy.” Given this, it should come as no surprise
that in Ancient Egypt the fruit of the fig sycamore (ficus
sicomorus) was known as “the flesh and sap of the goddess.”
This tree has the particularity of producing a reddish fruit that
grows in bunches, like grapes. In Egyptian, the fruit of the
sycamore was referred to as Kau, which in Sumerian
transposition becomes KA-Ú, “the revelation-plant” or “the
powerful testimony.” The fig tree was a symbol of fertility in
Egypt, while the fig sycamore concentrated the creative power
and primordial energy with which the pharaoh could ritually
unite. This tree stood for the goddess Hathor, who was also
known as the Lady of the Sycamore, the Heavenly Cow, the
Lady of Life, or the Lady of the Serpent. Eating the fruit of the
fig sycamore was tantamount to ingesting the flesh of the
goddess and drinking her blood; i.e. consuming her fruit.
There is a similar idea in the Kabbala, in which it is said that
the Tree of Life stems from the “heavenly dew” that is the
source of resurrection and regeneration. According to Roman
tradition, the fig tree was considered to be impure and evil
because, when it was opened, its fruit resembled a vulva (also
called fica in Latin).
“On the other hand, the power which is in the rules of the
woman and in the genitals
would be a soul which it would be appropriate to gather
and to eat.[131]”
Epiphanes of Salamis Pan., 26,9-4
The symbolism of fig trees in connection with the
Mother-Goddess is to be found in many other traditions,
including in India. It was under a sacred fig tree (the pippala,
or ficus religiosa) that Buddha had the revelation of the true
nature of human suffering and the way to cease this suffering.
The tree-goddess in the form of a fig tree also played an
important role in the foundational legends of Italy. It was at
the foot of a fig tree, near the cave of Lupercal, that the
goddess stumbled upon the future founders of Rome, Romulus
and Remus. It was also under the sheltering branches of this
tree that a she-wolf nursed the infant twins and saved their
lives. The symbolic meaning of this legend becomes clear
when we know that the Latin word for she-wolf, luma, also
meant prostitute. In Antiquity, priestesses often played the role
of sacred prostitutes because they transmitted the sacred power
and royalty of the Mother-Goddess to princes and future kings.
The she-wolf was a prostitute, or more exactly a human
priestess who worshipped the Mother-Goddess (in the form of
a fig tree). Thus Romulus and Remus were not nursed by a
she-wolf, but by a woman who observed the cult of the Great
Goddess.
In the Book of Genesis (3:7), after Adam and Eve had
eaten the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, they could not help
but hide behind the leaves of the tree in the garden that in fact
symbolized a fig tree: “And the eyes of them both were
opened, and they knew that they were naked, and they sewed
the fig leaves together, and they made themselves aprons.”.
The Rabba Genesis (15:7) provides more information about
the identity of the fig tree: “What kind of fig tree was it?— It
was the ‘daughter of the seven’ type, said Rabbi Avin, so
called because it brought the seven days of sorrow into the
world.” The number seven has a sacred meaning throughout
the world, and especially in Mesopotamia. It is linked with the
constellation of the Pleiades, which the Hopi called the “Seven
Sisters” and worshipped as the dwelling-place of the gods of
Creation.
In India, again, the fig tree was associated with sacred
nutritional vitality and called Udumbara. Transposed into
Sumerian, this becomes UD-UM-BAR-A, which literally
means the “shining midwife who distributes water.” Wood
from the sycamore tree was used to make the cups that held
the sacred unction for the Mahâvrata ceremony. Interestingly
enough it was also used to make the throne on which Vrâtya
sat during the ceremony. If we transpose Udumbara into its
homonym UD-UM-BARA2, its meaning becomes the “shining
midwife who distributes the throne.” Indeed, one of the
functions of the goddess was to initiate the king and put him
on the throne, for she possessed the sovereignty of Heaven on
Earth. As you can see, the Sumerian-Gina’abul language
could be very versatile thanks to its many homophones and
plays on words. The Sumerian “translation” of the word
Udumbara refers to a woman who holds royal authority that
she can endow at will, an idea also to be found in an Irish
folktale in which a young woman embodying royal power
gives her hero the cup of immortality.
The Egyptian goddess Hathor, a perfect model of the
feminine principle, embodied the radiant energy of perpetually
renewed life. Many frescoes (as in the tomb of Sennedjem)
represent the goddess of the sycamore as a Tree of Life. She
pours the water of life from a jug and gives her sacred fruit to
the dead so that they can obtain eternal life. The goddess
Hathor represents the Mother, the universal womb, and as such
is the Mother of all the other gods and the provider of
humanity. She is the central pillar, the Tree of Life, the bearer
of Kundalinî (the energy that rises through the seven chakras
and leads to Enlightenment). She is therefore the cosmic tree
that connects Heaven and Earth, humanity and the Source. In
China, the cosmic tree is called Kien-Mu, lit. the “goddess
wood.” Transposed into the sacred language, it becomes KI-
EN-MU4, “the place that clothes the lords.” As you can see, it
all fits!
The Greek word for sycamore is Sukomoros, which
becomes SUKU5-MÚR-ÚŠ when transposed into Sumerian:
lit. “the hips that distribute blood.” The particle MÚR is
identical to MURUB4, which was represented by the same
cuneiform sign in classic Sumerian and had the same meaning:
“hips, center, middle.” MURUB4 in turn has a homophone,
MURUB, which means “vulva, woman, sexual attraction.”
The Gina’abul and Sumerian were very fond of puns, such that
the hidden meaning of the Greek Sukomoros can be rendered
as “the woman (or vulva) that distributes blood.” Similarly, the
Latin sicomorus can be transposed as SI-KÚ-MÚR-ÚŠ, lit.
“the sacred slit that clads itself in blood.”
“Thomas said: ‘We have heard that there are men on the
Earth who,
taking the semen of a man and the menstrual blood of a
woman,
make them into pellets to eat them, saying:
‘We trust in Esau and Jacob’.”
Extr. Pistis Sophia (book IV 351)
An amazing number of figurines representing the
Mother-Goddess have been discovered throughout the world.
They are often depicted in a squatting or crouching position,
which, according to the standard interpretation, alludes to
childbirth. This fits in with the Mother-Goddess’ function as
the bearer of fertility and motherhood. But now that you have
gotten a clue as to the hidden power of the goddess, can we
really assume that all of these statuettes represent women in
the act of giving birth?
A further indication can be found in the Borgia Codex,
which was the work of a Mesoamerican culture. At the top of
plate 74 we can see a goddess in frontal view crouching on an
altar with a vessel between her legs (see Ádam Genisiš).
Specialists consider this to be a representation of Tlazoltéotl,
the goddess of the Earth and the Moon, who was also called
“the Mother of all the Gods.” The moon has an influence on
the flow of blood, and so clearly symbolizes the monthly
female cycle and the hidden knowledge of the Dark Stars. The
Greek goddess Artemis, who was often represented as a tree,
also happened to be the goddess of the moon! The sacred
beverage of the Aryan gods of India called Soma evokes,
precisely, both the mythical plant from which the nectar of
immortality and the moon are obtained. As we have seen
above, the nectar of immortality comes from divine tree sap
mixed with the ocean. Maybe the ocean water?
“On the other hand, if someone happened to be in this
knowledge
 and had gathered himself through the menses and the flow
of desire,
he would no longer be retained here on earth,
but would pass through the Archons[132]…[133]”
Epiphanes of Salamis Pan., 26,10-9
All these traditions seems related. In plate 66 of the
Borgia Codex we can see a tree with an opening that can easily
be identified as a vulva expulsing blood. The roots of the tree
have the shape of a serpent’s head. Germanic and
Scandinavian mythology also have the symbol of a sacred tree
called Yggdrasil, which is the axis of the world, the cosmic
tree. Transposed into Sumerian, this name becomes ÍG-RÁ-
SIL5, “that which waters and brings bliss (or enlightenment).”
At the foot of Yggdrasil dwell three ancient goddesses called
the Norns, who represent the three temporal aspects of life and
human destiny: the past, the present and the future. The three
Norns also represent the three phases of the moon: waxing,
full and waning. The Norns tend the tree with water from a
fountain of youth called the source of the Urd, of which they
are the guardians. There is no end to the symbolism, especially
when we transpose the name of the divine trio into Sumerian,
NU-ÚR-NÈ, lit. “the representatives of the powerful thighs.”
As in the Borgia Codex, the Scandinavian legend says that
there were serpents at the foot of the tree, gnawing at its roots.
 The goddess Freia, a Scandinavian goddess of Fertility
associated with plant life (Arthur Rackham, 1867-1939).
 The same idea can be found in the Iranian World Tree
called Hoama, which grew on Mount Araiti and was chewed
on by a serpent-lizard. Transposed into Gina’abul-Sumerian,
Hoama becomes HU-AMA: the “bird-mother,” the supreme
symbol of the Mother-Goddess and the Holy Spirit. As for
Mount Araiti, it can be transposed into ARA4-ITI, which
means “marked or lit by the moon.” The fact that we can find
the image of serpents feeding on the roots of a sacred tree in
the Aztec, Scandinavian and Avestic cultures proves beyond
the shadow of a doubt that the priestesses of the Mother-
Goddess, who were necessarily subject to lunar cycles, were
somehow prey to a caste of serpents on Earth. This is true and
coincides with Gnostic ideas according to which many female
entities were said to be held captive. Sophia (Tiamata), her
daughter Zoe (Nammu) and her own daughter, who was also
called Zoe—“Eva of Life” (Sé’et-Isis)—were the prisoners of
evil angels called Archontes. Many traditions share the
symbolism of a Serpent that is responsible for the menstrual
cycle. More will be said about this Serpent and women’s
menstrual cycles in the course of this series and my essay
Eden, but it is obvious that this fits in with the Judeo-Christian
idea of a Serpent that incited Eve to reveal the secrets of the
gods in heaven to humanity. In the second century of our era,
the great bishop of Lyon, Irenaeus of Lyon, formulated about
this secret partially revealed by the biblical Serpent:
“Some say that it is Wisdom herself who was the Serpent:
it is for this reason that this one stood up against the author
of Adam and gave men Gnosis;
it is also why it is said that the Serpent is the most cunning
of creatures. “
Irénée de Lyon, Against heresies, 1,30,15
In the Mayan and Hahuatl languages, the goddess of
Creation is called Teol. The syllable TE means “tree” and OL
means “spirit.” This implies that the goddess who created
Heaven and Earth was no less than a tree-spirit in the eyes of
Central American cultures. The important thing to note in this
example is that it contains the Judeo-Christian idea of a
creative deity symbolized by a Holy Spirit and a divine tree
that grants access to Wisdom. We have already seen that the
Holy Spirit and Wisdom (of the tree) are attributes of the
Mother-Goddess. Significantly enough, the Gina’abul-
Sumerian syllable TÈ means “a light,” while TE4 means “to
burn” or “burning,” and UL means “flower,” “star,” “to shine”
and “ancient.” Given this, the Mesoamerican term Teol (tree-
spirit = divinity, god) transposed into the language of the
“gods” means something like “the light that shines” or “the
light of the star,” “the burning flower,” etc. I would add that
the Egyptian word for tree is Šen, a term that also exists in
Sumerian as ŠEN, which simply means “clear, pure, shiny.”
Once again, all of these examples point in the same direction.
 Mother Mayahuel, the goddess of pulque (a fermented
beverage), nurses a human figure. She is also associated
with the introduction of physical love into the world.
Feyervary Mayer Codex, plate 18.
 Female entities associated with stars are to be found not
only in the Sumerian, Hebraic and Amerindian traditions but
also in Africa. There is, for example, the legend of women
stars descending to Earth at night to steal gourds, as
transmitted by the Bat and Bèju tribes of Mbaï-Moïssala.
According to Jesuit missionary Joseph Fortier’s book Le
Mythe et les Contes de Sou en Pays de Mbaï-Moïssala
(éditions Classiques Africaines, 1967), there was an abduction
a long time ago in the village of Koji-ndô (today Sà-têi-ia):
“Famine spread throughout the heavens. The people in the
heavens came down to Earth. The women came too: some
were light, others heavy, because they were expecting. They
came with their husbands… They were all gathering gourds
when the owner of the field suddenly appeared in front of
them; the lighter women were able to climb back into the sky,
but one of them who was pregnant could not ascend. She was
taken back to the village with the child that she carried in her
womb. She had many other children who were called sons of
the stars.”.
 Myrrha, changed into a tree, gives birth to Adonis. She
was also known by the name of Smyrna, which can be
transposed into Sumerian as SUMUR-NA: “non-violence.”
Ovid, The Metamorphoses, engraving by Michel Faulte,
1619.
 First interview with the author
for the website Karmapolis.be and
Nexus Magazine France, n°43, 44
& 45 (2006)
When Anton Parks’ first book came into my hands shortly
after its publication in 2005, I have to admit that I was more
than a little skeptical and biased. In order to retrace the
presumed history of extraterrestrial beings involved in the
genesis of humanity, Anton Parks based himself on bizarre
states of consciousness that had given him access to an
amazingly strange and remote world. These were personal,
and so necessarily subjective experiences. Because part of me
is basically conservative, or—to put it more elegantly and
disingenuously—due to my professional conscience as a
journalist, I have always been wary of stories about
channeling, remote viewing and astral travel. Unless… unless
the author happens to have his feet on the ground and can
establish a solid connection between his personal experiences
and the facts of Science, whether “hard” or “soft.” In reading
his first and second volumes, I saw that this was the case with
Anton Parks.
I had already read several books on “Gods” from outer
space and their intervention in the creation of our planet and
humanity. There were, for example, the books of Zecharia
Sitchin on the Anunnaki, and those of Erich von Daniken and
Robert Charroux on “ancient gods” of extraterrestrial origin,
but they seemed too abstract, unreal and disembodied. I was
also familiar with David Icke’s—in my opinion, somewhat
crazy—idea that a race of extraterrestrial reptilians played an
important part in past and present events on our planet. I had
also read R.A. Boulay’s remarkable book on the abundant
traces left by reptilian beings among most ancient
civilizations. And so I was very curious to see how Anton
Parks would deal with the topic of a reptilian presence in the
history of the human race. What I discovered in the course of
my reading was fascinating. All the more so as the author had
undertaken a parallel task of linguistic decoding that
emphasized the importance of Sumerian and of an even more
ancient source language in the etymology of words and
concepts among ancient or so-called primitive peoples, like the
Hopi or the Dogon of Mali. I learned that the source language
from which Sumerian was derived had also been the basis for
words describing major phenomena and divinities in these
traditional cultures. Moreover, Parks describes these ancient
Sumerian “Gods” in a much richer and more realistic way than
Zecharia Stichin. Indeed, where Stichin presents the Anunnaki
as a thoroughly centralized and hierarchic society, Anton Parks
reveals an infinitely more complex reality. In fact, the
Anunnaki were just one caste of warrior-colonists of the
reptilian type among a host of reptilian “races” of diverse
origins: races with a male, female or double polarity, races of
extraterrestrial planners and creators of life—and therefore
consciousness… When I finally put the book down, my mind
was abuzz with thoughts and questions, and I knew that I
would have to reconsider and reorganize my personal
cosmogony more critically. This book had unleashed a minor
earthquake inside me, and I wanted to contact the author
immediately. I called him the next day and was quite relieved
to find myself talking to a reasonable, calm and introverted
person who was willing to deal with my barrage of questions.
This discussion provided the content for the interview below.
Later, I conducted more interviews and had many occasions to
meet him personally. These encounters strengthened my
impression that I was dealing with a fully sane, somewhat
withdrawn young man with moments of brilliance and
weakness. In other words, a well-balanced person who was
striving—passionately and dispassionately—to understand
how this crazy world works and what makes it turn. In this
respect, Anton Parks differs from the rest of us. It is important
to know this, I think, because it helped me to understand his
intentions better and to see if we had a common frame of
references; that is, if we shared our way of seeing others and
the world around us.
At the time, I was very interested in issues of mental
conditioning and control exercised by religions and sects in the
history of civilizations. In his books, Anton Parks shows quite
clearly how a caste of reptilian extraterrestrials and warlords
of male polarity was able to play a key role in the genesis of
the Judeo-Christian religions, which are predominantly
patriarchal, messianic and apocalyptic. Parks shows that the
figure of an angry male God punishing a disobedient humanity
and saving the righteous was no innocent occurrence in the
history of our world.
The other highly fascinating and atypical aspect of his
book was precisely its subjective side. I mean the way the
author relates events from a past so remote that it constantly
eludes our understanding, and he does so according to a
twofold point of view that we can clearly sense. There is the
“human” point of view of Anton Parks, the writer, with the
emotions that he probably could not ignore when he went into
the details of his characters, the countless races of extra-
terrestrial gods, the extraordinary places they inhabit, the
planets and hearts of planets in distant solar systems, etc. Then
there is the point of view of his non-human, and even inhuman
“hero,” who is both familiar and alien to our understanding,
and whose complex motivations and personality we discover
as the story unfolds. Similarly, we gradually discover the
leading position that he will occupy in the pantheon of the
“Gods” of Homo sapiens sapiens. His avatars include the
Sumerian Enki of many names, the Egyptian Osiris and his
son Horus, Lucifer, the bearer of light damned by the
scriptural religions, and Prometheus, who defied the power of
the patriarchal gods in order to bring knowledge to that
amazing creature known as Man. In the eyes of some of the
“Gods,” Man is a pitiful wretch of limited intelligence, and a
dangerous scoundrel and knave as well. Meanwhile, there are
other “Gods” who know full well that the human project was
deviated and that it held the seeds of a miraculous program for
life and consciousness. This is the mystery that we are invited
to discover in human terms that describe extraterrestrial
realities and perspectives, something that our present cognitive
faculties are very hard pressed to grasp.
The most astonishing thing of all is that the existence of
the Anunnaki was confirmed by witnesses interrogated in the
“Whistleblower” investigations, which involved military and
scientific eyewitnesses of extraterrestrials and UFOs. I was
stunned to find out, for example, that an officer like Bob Dean
could conclude, after 40 years’ experience with military
personnel who had had such contacts, that the Anunnaki
mentioned in Sumerian documents “existed, were involved in
our genesis… and are surely still present among us today.”
These eyewitness reports (still relatively ignored by the French
media and UFO experts) are interesting because they show
that some members of the military-industrial complex are
striving to shed light on what this very complex is trying to
conceal from the public. Some people believe that there is a
campaign of disinformation, and if that is true, then it is a
widespread, premeditated, concerted and highly organized
manipulation (for there are a great many witnesses). It means
that this disinformation effort hides an even more unspeakable
or bizarre reality than the one that is being suppressed. One
way or the other, these shadow witnesses cannot be ignored. It
is entirely possible that Anton Parks’ contribution will
ultimately be confirmed by UFO-logical events.
The following interview is the first one that I conducted
with the author and it met with a very positive—often highly
emotional—reaction from the readers of the Karmapolis
website. I suggest that you read it twice: once before and again
after reading the book. Reading the interview beforehand may
be cheating, but it will prepare you for your leap into the
unknown. You will be more attentive to the thousand-and-one
details of how these “advanced beings” live and act—for
better or worse—and also of the source language. Most of all,
you will better appreciate how thoroughly this past has
impregnated and conditioned our own world, starting with
practically all the primitive peoples from which we descend,
some of which still exist in one form or another (the Dogon of
Mali, some Zulu tribes in South Africa, and the Amerindians).
After reading it, you will surely have a different perspective on
the many issues discussed in this book.
Of course, you may object that there is always be the
problem of proof with this kind of experience. My reply would
be that the only acceptable proof will have to be an
extraterrestrial vessel landing on the White House lawn, on the
Place de La Concorde in Paris, or at NATO Headquarters in
Brussels. Alien beings will have to emerge and confirm that
extraterrestrials did indeed massively intervene in the genesis
of life on Earth, that our planet is a vast zoo of sorts, a sublime
natural park, a great ecological reserve of which we are only a
part—and which we are now in a position to destroy. The
history of the Sumerians, along with that of other civilizations,
contains the distant echoes of these interventions. But does it
really have to come to that? If aliens did land, I think it would
be a very bad sign, and Anton Parks’ books would be moot.
You will surely prefer reading the story that Anton has to tell,
and hope that he will be able to continue it in many more
volumes. I hope the same and am eager to find out more about
our Genesis.
Alain Gossens (Karmaone), October 2007
Karmapolis / Nexus magazine, French ed.
Alain Gossens: Please tell us about where you come
from. Your first book, “The Secret of the Dark Stars”
(Editions Nenki in 2004, reprinted by Editions Nouvelle
Terre in 2007), provides a great deal of new information
about the Sumerian civilization, as well as the Anunnaki
reptilians and other interdimensional beings. You describe
a very dense and detailed universe. Where did you get such
precise information?
Anton Parks: As far as I can remember, I was a rather
quiet child. I have always been sensitive, and this made it
difficult for me to relate to the outside world, especially as a
child. I was raised in a Christian family, learned my catechism
and made my communion.
It all began in 1981, when I was fourteen. In May of that
year, for whatever reason, I started getting “flashes.” How to
explain in simple words…? For one thing, they always came
spontaneously, at any hour of the day. I was never able to
control this phenomenon, and so I don’t consider it a form of
channeling. As far as I know, a channeler can decide when to
receive; he can even choose the moment when he will be
receptive and make contact. That never happened in my case. I
can imagine that it isn’t easy to rely blindly on channeling. I
have my own problems with this practice, because there are as
many amazing people in this area as there are charlatans. But
there are also sincere people who sometimes misinterpret what
they receive.
At the beginning, the flashes appeared tentatively, and in
the weeks that followed the “visions” functioned wonderfully
without my having to do a thing. After about five or six
months, the frequency increased to between one and three
times a day… I would add that the process seemed to be
triggered by light. Every time I had a flash, it was always in
tuned with the ambient light. This means that when a “vision”
appeared, it always had the same quality as the light where I
happened to be. There was a subtle connection between the
two that I still don’t completely understand. These flashes
were like beams of light that came from “above,” penetrating
the top of my head, at the level of the seventh chakra. This
phenomenon immediately disconnected me from ordinary
reality and filled me with a vivid sound and light show.
Complete scenes would appear, often with familiar figures
around the “being” in which I happened to find myself. Like I
said, this could happen at any time, however much light there
happened to be. The phenomenon often came when I was with
friends or co-workers. Time seemed to stand still and I felt like
I was experiencing scenes two, five or even ten minutes long!
No one ever noticed…! For my friends, it must have seemed
like I was absent for a just few seconds.
Alain Gossens: How did you react at the time?
Anton Parks: The first year was very difficult. I thought I
was going insane. The images I was receiving were like pure
science fiction. Was I sending this to myself? Where could all
this knowledge have come from? I usually read very little, and
no science fiction at all. The characters spoke a completely
unknown language; I could make it out, but it had nothing to
do with French… It was only much later, in the late 90s, and
after quite a few adventures, that I finally realized that it was
Sumerian, or a language from which Sumerian was derived…
It took a few months for me to tell my mother about it.
Getting images like this at the age of fourteen can lead to
serious personality disorders, you know. Fortunately, my
mother was very understanding and supportive, and that was
probably no coincidence… you’re never born into a family by
chance. No doubt there are people who don’t like to hear that,
but it’s a fact. I’m a great believer in reincarnation. Before
going back to Earth, and depending on what we still need to
experience, we pack our “bags” and choose the broad outlines
of our fates. No one else does it for us; so don’t bother looking
for responsible parties hiding in the astral realm! Our guides
may urge us to go one way rather than another, but we’ve
always got a choice—unless there’s an exception. When we’re
“up there,” in between lives, our guides advise us and don’t
mind pointing out if we’ve been too “greedy” in our choices.
The problem is that we’re terribly stubborn and very energetic
before going back down… We often tell ourselves: no
problem, it’ll work out, something important will happen to
me, I’ll meet some famous person (whom we sometimes
already know). In other words, everything’s possible and—at
that moment, in between lives—we’re in contact with our
deepest selves. The veil is partly lifted; material life and death
are one and inspire no fear. Sounds idyllic, doesn’t it? Yet the
way back down and life on Earth are trying, and that’s
something we often forget…
In my case, I feel I’ve kept in touch with someone or
something, and that’s another thing that helped me go through
it all. Those who were kind enough to read my first book will
have noticed that there is some really rough stuff. The life I
describe is quite ruthless. I don’t know if I have a direct
connection with this story and if I actually was the Sa’am
whose story I tell. Anyway, every time I had these flashes, I
found myself inside his body!
This is the story that I have to tell. It is a transcription of
some of the annals contained in the crystal (Gírkù) that was in
Sa’am’s possession. Did I have direct contact to the contents
of the crystal? Since Sa’am was often in contact with this
crystal and since he consigned most of the chronicles in it,
what should I conclude? I asked myself a lot of questions at
the time, and it almost drove me crazy. My egotistical side
would like to answer, YES, I was this being, but my more
modest side would say that I was just in contact with the
beings who owned the crystal. But these two possibilities are
not mutually exclusive.
Anyway, it doesn’t much matter if I was this character with
webbed hands called Sa’am or not. The whole thing disrupted
my life enough for me to think that it was not just mere
“chance.” When I finally decided to put this story into writing
in 2001-2002, my social and emotional life fell apart! I was
like some “accident victim” on the roadside… I was lucky
enough to have the support of some of my family and some
really good friends, and now a publisher who really believes in
this project. You know, when you set out on this kind of path,
you’re very much alone, but you just have to go through with
it.
I am obviously the bearer of a message. I do it both for
those who will read it and of course for myself, because it
relieves me of a tremendous burden. I probably chose to
receive this information and transmit it to whomever would be
receptive to it. Without wanting to influence anyone unduly, it
is my sincere conviction that the whole story is true. I have my
conscience and I know what it can cost to mystify others:
there’s no harsher judge than one’s higher self! The story set
down in this series is the exact transcription of what I received
for ten long years.
Alain Gossens: Why don’t these “flashes” come to you
today anymore? What happened?
Anton Parks: Simply because this phenomenon took up
too much of my life. I lived for nearly eighteen years with a
wonderful woman… She was rather Cartesian, and living my
everyday life with these flashes was a really acrobatic. Ten
years after the first visions, I felt I couldn’t live a “normal” life
if I let these flashes keep upsetting it. It was time for me to
enjoy life. Like I said, I had no control over this phenomenon,
I was its prisoner. Finally, I’d had enough. I forced myself not
to receive anymore and did all I could to block the process.
But the mechanism was so well established that it didn’t go
away overnight. It faded over the course of weeks and months,
the images becoming less and less clear, but the sounds were a
lot more difficult to tune out. It was like a radio when you turn
the dial around looking a station. After about four or five
months, the phenomenon was completely gone. That was in
early 1991, right in the middle of the First Gulf War.
After that I tried to lead a normal life, taking the time to
digest all this information, but without really knowing what to
do with it. Little by little, I ran across books that dealt with
similar subjects. This brought me ultimately to the Sumerian
clay tablets. It came as a real shock to me, and to the people
around me, to discover these documents and realize that they
told practically the same story as the one I’d received. That’s
why I became interested in Sumerian and how I finally
discovered the linguistic code of the “gods.” Without these
flashes, I would never have found or deciphered it so
quickly…
Alain Gossens: Have you been able to check the quality
of your information against the research that has been
done on the huge corpus of Sumerian texts? What were the
most amazing correspondences between your flashes, your
discoveries in the texts and the work of other authors (like
Sitchin)? Have you found authors who were more helpful
than others?
Anton Parks: Yes and no. Of course, as soon as I was able
to detect the affinities between what I had received and the
Sumerian tablets, I tried to get my hands on as many reference
books as I could. I was able to study the translations of
scholars like Samuel Kramer, Jean Bottéro, Marie-Joseph
Seux, Thorkild Jacobsen, René Labat and André Caquot… I
immediately noticed that there were differences in the
transcriptions. Since the basic subject stayed the same, my
close friends and I couldn’t help seeing the incredible
similarity between my “flashes” and the history written on
these clay tablets, some of which were five to six thousand
years old! On the other hand, I tried not to lose myself in these
translations so as to keep the story that I’d received intact, for
it had many new elements that did not come up in the tablets at
all.
 One of the most startling similarities were the frequent
references to cloning, which are rather detailed on the tablets,
as has been noted by contemporary writers like Zecharia
Sitchin, R. Boulay and David Icke. But most of all there is
everything around the main figure, whose name is Sa’am in
the first volume, but who will have other names on Earth. I
can’t say any more about this because I don’t want to reveal
certain important details in the second volume, which has not
yet been published.
Alain Gossens: In the book, you work a great deal on
language, on the decomposition of Sumerian words, in
order to analyze the deeper meanings and the relationships
with words in modern languages. Did you use your
intuition and documentary research for this, or are certain
elements of this language deeply “imprinted” in your
mind?
Anton Parks: As I said, when I received the information, I
knew that the language used had nothing to do with French,
even if I understood it then as if it had been my own native
tongue. The issue of the coding of language was very present
and had to do with the castes among the Gina’abul (“lizard/s”
in Sumerian). For a number of years, I though that it had to do
with Hebrew, but my “heroic” forays into this language didn’t
put me on the track of a coding with its syllabary [NOTE: a
syllabary is a set of signs or symbols that represent sounds: a
writing system, or even a reading manual, that represents
words separated into syllables. The division of “words” into
“syllables” makes it possible to work on the meaning of
concepts by looking at combinations of smaller semantic
units]. It was only much later, around the late 90s, that I finally
came on the Sumerian track. So I had come full circle. I had
managed to give a beginning and an end to all the “archives”
that I had received in random order over the years. But the
“mother tongue” was still missing, and so there were things
that I didn’t understand. When I finally got my hands on a
Sumerian syllabary, I immediately decomposed some biblical
terms, and it worked. To make a successful decomposition,
you have to know the context that led to the composition of
such and such a term. Take the Sumerian word Gina’abul
 (lizard/s), for example; it can be decomposed into
GINA-AB-UL, which means “true ancestor of splendor.” If
you know the huge vanity of the beings I describe, then this
name comes as no surprise. The name “Adam” is another
simple example. Contrary to what some would have us
believe, it has nothing whatsoever to do with the Hebrew
words “adama” (clump of earth) or “adôm” (red)… Still today
I’m surprised that no author has pointed out that the word Á-
DAM exists in Sumerian and means “beasts, animals, herds”
or “taking, establishing, installing or colonizing.” The verb
form means “to inflict”! If Á-DAM was used to designate
beings, then it meant just that: “the beasts, the animals, the
taken, the established, the settled, or the colonized, the
inflicted…” The idea of a slave who is completely subject to
the “gods” is reinforced by the Akkadian equivalent,
Nammaššû, which can be transliterated into Sumerian as nam-
maš-šû, which literally means “the half-portion in tow…” I
doubt that matters could be more clearly put!
Alain Gossens: Paul Von Ward, an American writer
specialized in the study of ancient civilizations and the
hypothesis of extraterrestrial influence, thinks that ancient
languages like Sanskrit, Akkadian and Sumerian were the
remains or developments of languages that were taught to
us by these visitors and “colonists” from Outer Space.
These languages are supposed to have had a great power:
creative power, magical power, power of evocation. But all
of this has been lost. What do you think?
Anton Parks: The real power that I can identify is
primarily a coding power, as I explain exhaustively in my first
book. The Sumerian and Akkadian syllables permit the main
words of ancestral languages like Chinese, Hebrew, Ancient
Greek, Latin, Germanic and Amerindian languages to be
decomposed. This will probably make linguists holler, but I
think I was precise enough in the first volume. As a matter of
fact, my publisher and I decided to include all of the numbers
and accents of the syllables that I decompose, so that anyone
can double-check.
I would point out to those who have not read “The Secret
of the Dark Stars” that the Sumerian syllabary (Emenita=male
language) was used only by the male Gina’abul, while the
females, who created the Gina’abul syllabary, were past
masters at juggling the particles used in Sumerian and
Akkadian. The whole formed a complete version that was
called Emešà (the womb language). Of course none of this is
written on the tablets; the Gina’abul were very attached to
their coding! As for the question why the Akkadian language
(and syllabary)—which appeared fully formed overnight—
seems at first glance to be later than Sumerian, you will find
the answer in a forthcoming book.
Alain Gossens: Zecharia Sitchin presented the
“Anunnaki” as a single race, a monolithic group composed
of several warring clans of the same family: Enki vs. Enlíl,
etc. But when we read your book, we see that the story is
much more complex and that these beings who came to
Earth, or were interested in it, in fact belonged to different
races, some of which even came from other dimensions.
There was the reptilian race grouped under the name of
Gina’abul, the race of the Sutum, the Amašutum, the
Kingu, the Mušgir, etc.
Could you describe these clans and races, and briefly
explain whether these beings had different physical
characteristics and originated in different dimensions?
What is the exact status of the Anunnaki? Why did these
Sumerian tablets mention this name and these creatures in
particular?
Anton Parks: I have some respect for Zecharia Sitchin,
who was a forerunner in this field. Thanks to him, many
people became acquainted with the Mesopotamian world. His
deductive talent and his interpretations often resulted in some
very interesting conclusions. But did they look into the origins
of the Nungal [NOTE: race of male reptilian planners], of the
Enki [“Igigi” in Akkadian]? Did they ask themselves about the
Kingú, Imdugud (Anzu) and Mušgir lines? Had they done so,
they would have understood very quickly that these were
separate elements belonging to the same lineage as the
Anunna, although usually in conflict with them. Other terms
like Amašutum, Mìmínu, etc., have not been found on the
tablets, but I give a clear definition of them in my book.
 Yes, all of these lines related to the Gina’abul often had
different physical characteristics. The Mušgir (lit. “furious
reptile”), for example, were winged dragons. They also
appear under the Assyrian name “Pazuzu.” They can easily
pass from the first to the third dimension. The Mìmínu are
extraterrestrials known by the name of “Greys,” a term that
means “ant” and that can be found among the Dogon of Mali.
The Kingú, which have been identified with the Akkadian
Quingu, are the royal lineage of the Gina’abul, as their name
indicates. In Sumerian, it decomposes to KIN-GÚ, “bring
order to the land (or regions).” The Kingú are at war with the
creators of the Anunna, the Ušumgal (lit. “Great Dragons,” a
term later taken up by the Sumerians for their gods and kings).
There are three different types of Kingú: white (the great
royals), the reds (warrior-cleaners) and the green (the people;
also warriors). The Akkadians tablets, by the way, mention a
certain Quingu as having been an accomplice of Queen
Tiamat(a), who was also at war with the Anunna.
It was the various wars comprising the world of the
Gina’abul that separated all of these lines from each other. War
is what brought the Annuna to Earth. This is why these forced
exiles were later called Anunnaki (“the Anunna of the Earth”).
Most of the Sumerian tablets tell the adventures of the Annuna
on the blue planet. It is a sort of long-winded ode to the
Anunna warriors. These are more or less detailed chronicles
that tell about their establishment and their domination of
humanity, which they genetically transformed into beasts of
burden for their own purposes, since the Anunnaki are quite
lazy! And this is why they are regarded as “gods” (if not God
himself) by humans. But the real “God” is elsewhere, and his
“angelic emissaries” are not far off.
People interested in angels and higher frequencies
shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that oppositions in the universe
always merge to recreate unity. In a divided world such as
ours, believing only in angels is like sticking one’s head in the
sand, and believing only in secret societies and reptilians just
gives them that much more power…
Alain Gossens: Exactly, in your book you mention the
existence of a sort of “planner” caste, the Kadištu. Did it
become a race over time or is it a community of
extraterrestrial races of various origins? In what way are
they close to the original source? What is their function?
For that matter, when you talk about “original source,”
are you talking about the ultimate and primeval source of all
the dimensions of all the universes?
Anton Parks: The Kadištu are the emissaries of the
Original Source (“God”), from which we all come. This term
can be found again in the Akkadian “Qadištu,” which refers to
a high-ranking priestess equivalent to the Sumerian NU-GIG,
the “unsick,” but also “the image of evil.” In the eyes of the
Mesopotamians, the Qadištu was a sacred prostitute. I insisted
enough on the role of sexuality and its relationship to the
divine in my first book, so I won’t take it up here again. On
the other hand, I would remind you that females among the
Gina’abul (the priestesses of Amašutum) are emissaries of the
Source and associated with the Kadištu. And so it is not
surprising to see these priestesses being referred to as “the
image of evil” (like Eve, who represents the sin of the Flesh
because she was initiated into the principle of “good and evil”)
and as the “unsick” because they knew the power of sacred
sexuality to overcome illness… Decomposed in Emešà (the
womb language), the Akkadian term Qadištu becomes KAD4-
IŠ7-TU, which literally means “ancient assembler/s of life.”
This word is comparable to the Latin “caduceus” [NOTE:
image of two intertwined serpents, today a symbol of the
healing arts in the medical professions and pharmaceutics].
Both the high Qadištu priestesses of the Akkadian tradition
and the Kadištu (planners) possess the secret of the chakras
symbolized by the caduceus. The mastery of all the chakras
permits consciousness to be raised, which is precisely what the
male Gina’abul who have been manipulating this world behind
the scenes for millennia do not want!
The Kadištu clan is quite present in the story I tell because
it is in conflict with most of the Gina’abul. It is like a
community of different extraterrestrial races. Its role is to
unify the species of our universe in the name of the Source of
all things which, on Earth, is associated with God. To be sure,
the Kadištu are very powerful, but they have a basic principle
that involves not overly interfering with the affairs of lower-
frequency beings who are still in the process of evolving.
Terrestrial humanity today belongs to this type of being
because of the millennia-long manipulations of the Anunna.
Unfortunately for those who are secretly directing human
affairs, humanity is mutating and will soon be making the leap
into another dimension. It’s a historic moment for humanity
and has been awaited for a long time. The Kadištu are
observing us more than ever and transmitting messages
through people they contact directly (by abduction) or
indirectly (via telepathic contact). But we have to be vigilant,
because while most of the people who have been contacted in
this way are in good faith, they can misinterpret what they
have received. As far as abductions are concerned, the “Greys”
also practice them, although they are usually in the service of
the Gina’abul.
The Kadištu are like the Elohim of the Bible, that is to say
the Angels of “God” (of the Original Source). They live in the
higher dimensions and very few of them can act in the third
dimension, which hampers direct contact and explains why
they use indirect means to approach us. In Sumerian, the word
“Angal” refers to all of these higher dimensions, and it means
“Great Heavens”; note the similarity between this term and the
English word “angel”!
Alain Gossens: You mention the existence of many
dimensions, not the three dimensions that characterize our
space, but dimensions belonging to universes
superimposed on our own, like a layer cake. Could you tell
us how this vision of the world works, from which levels
these reptilian races come and where we stand in relation
to them?
Anton Parks: Yes, to answer your question, let me
reproduce an illustration from the second volume of the series,
Ádam Genisiš. It describes the KUR together with its two
intermediate dimensions.
 Anton Parks: This is a diagram of the KIGAL (“the
Great Earth”), which is composed of the KI (third dimension)
and the KUR, which encompasses the lowest dimensions. The
KI corresponds to the kind of dimension in which humanity is
living on Earth today. The KUR is invisible to the beings living
in the KI because it is beyond three-dimensional perception. The
KUR represents the nucleus of a whole system derived directly
from the secret ideology of the Gina’abul. The confirmation and
hidden meaning of this term appear when you decompose the
word KUR into KU-ÙR, which means “the girdled foundation,”
or into KU-ÚR, “the base of the foundation.”
To understand the KUR, we’ll start at the top. There’s a
median dimension called KUR-GI-A (“the KUR of the firm
source”). A close translation of this term tells us that it is a
transitional dimension in which souls abide before returning to
the Source (“firm”) or the ANGAL (which is above the KI and
the KUR).
Then comes the KUR-GAL (the second dimension), or “the
great KUR,” a parallel world in which some Gina’abul
established their home on the planet Earth.
Just below that is another intermediary dimension, the KUR-
NU-GI4 (“the KUR of no return”). Decomposing this word tells
us beyond the shadow of a doubt that this is a state of frequency
in which souls have lost themselves. It’s the place for beings
that have stayed blocked and that we call ghosts today. The
Sumerians considered the KUR-GI-A and KUR-NU-GI as two
representations of hell.
Lastly comes the KUR-BALA (the first and lowest
dimension). The Sumerians and the experts on the tablets
associate this place with the “Beyond,” but its exact meaning is
“the KUR of the reign or dynasty.” On Earth, the KUR-BALA
dimension led to much conflict among the Gina’abul, for
whoever holds the KUR-BALA necessarily becomes the master
of the other dimensions, the KUR-GAL and the KI. The master
of the KUR-BALA is literally called “the eye who sees
everything, atop the [inverted] pyramid,” for he has a direct
view of the KUR-GAL and the KI! This is why KUR (or KUR-
BALLA) on the tablets is often translated as “in the enemy
world,” the place where chaos seems perpetually to prevail. The
first three dimensions form a sort of inverted pyramid in which
the KI dimension symbolizes the base and the KUR-BALA the
summit. From this vantage point you can look at the higher
dimensions—all the way up to the KI—as if through a
telescope.
As far as the higher dimensions (the ANGAL) are
concerned, they work in somewhat the same way, but opposite.
The higher you go, the more you have a detailed (global) view
of all the dimensions. This is where we get the idea that God
(the Source) knows and sees all.
Alain Gossens: You use the Sumerian language to
explain and give meaning to many events, objects and beings
in your book, all of which are related to the history of
human civilization. Are you the only author making these
interpretations, or have you been able to verify them in the
works of other writers and Sumerian specialists?
Anton Parks: I don’t use the Sumerian language to validate
my statements, but I do note and closely check each translatable
term in relation to my story. Too bad if the translations work out
every time! There’s no end to them. In the first volume, I can
count on the fingers of one hand the words that I wasn’t able to
decompose with the help of the Sumerian-Akkadian syllabary.
I’m not inventing anything. The code is there and was only
waiting to be discovered! As far as I know, I’m the first to have
decoded these more or less ancient terms using the Sumerian-
Akkadian syllabary. So I haven’t been able to compare, much
less verify, my decompositions in the work of other authors.
Alain Gossens: In your book, you mention the “Tree of
Life” and at the same time refer to the tree in the Garden of
Eden and to the serpent, or so-called “seducer.” What is the
real meaning of this strange story that is presented so
enigmatically in Genesis?
Anton Parks: I can’t give you a full answer now because it
will be dealt with clearly in the second volume, Ádam Genisiš.
But I can make a few revelations about the serpent and his
colleague Satan, which are often mistakenly confused!
After all sorts of adventures, the High Council of the
Anunna sees itself obliged to genetically manufacture a human
being to do the everyday chores for the “gods.” These humans
are not directly referred to as Á-DAM (animals), but as Lùlù,
which means “mixed” beings. Enki, the son of An and Mamitu-
Nammu, who was forced into managing the operations of the
ruling caste, the Anunna, hates seeing his genetic creation being
used as common Á-DAM (animals). He began modifying his
slave specimens to make them more independent. Since the first
prototype specially designed for labor was originally
androgynous, Enki “cut” it in two to create a man and a woman.
This scene is approximately depicted on the following clay
tablet:
 Anton Parks: What do we see? Enki stands on the left.
Around him we see serpents (symbols of fertility and creation)
depicted in rhythmic motion. We are obliged to conclude
beyond the shadow of a doubt that the serpent of the Bible was
none other than the geneticist Enki, also known as Nudimmud
the cloner. Then, in front of him we see a star connected to an
arrow pointing downward. The star is a symbol for the word
DINGIR (god/s) and the arrow for “below,” “the abyss,”
which confirms the identity of Enki as a “god,” since he is the
divinity of the Abzu, the underworld.
In the middle “awakens” a woman who seems to come out
not from Adam’s side but from a sort of kettle that could easily
be called an artificial womb. Strangely enough, this kettle is
very similar to the old Sumerian sign that stands for the female
demon Lilû (Lilith), who represents sickness and evil, as I
said… Remember the old rabbinical legends that say that
Adam’s first companion was Lilith? Next to her, a male figure
holds out a branch at the end of which is a female pubis… the
symbolism is obvious. But the most savory part is on the right,
where we see a rather irritated king holding two forks. For the
Sumerians, the fork represented a “chief” in relation to the
earth (soil). This figure is easily identifiable as a Šàtam; that
is, a “territorial administrator” or “district chief.” And who
was the great Šàtam of the Anunna? Enki’s adversary, Enlíl!
The Slavic manuscript of Adam and Eve (National Library
of Sofia, No. 433) states that Satan claimed from Adam the
possession of the Earth: “Mine is the earth, divine are Heaven
and Paradise. If you become a man who is mine, you will
labor the earth…” Other passages in the Bible, like Matt. 4:8
or Luke 4:6, mention the same thing. The funny thing is that,
in the Bible, it is “God” who catches the Serpent “teaching”
Adam and Eve in his garden, and not Satan! The Sumerians
were very fond of symbols, and so next to the Šàtam we see a
Gullum (cat). Cats have often been considered baleful animals.
This idea was reinforced by the Sumerians, for if we
decompose the word Gullum we get GUL (destroy, annihilate)
and LUM (fertility, abundance, bear fruit), which means that
the Šàtam (Enlíl) had only one intention: to “destroy the
fertility” of his labor force, which had become too abundant
and emancipated to his taste! What better animal to represent
this idea than a cat? Besides, this episode is confirmed at the
end of the Babylonian tables of Atrahasîs, in which we see
Enlíl ordering Enki to shorten the lifespan of humanity and to
make certain women infertile…
You will also note that Enki’s hands and feet are shackled.
This alludes to the fact that Enki was not as free as he wished
to be, for he was under Enlíl’s command.
Don’t ask me why no other writers have noted the
similarity between the Sumerian Šàtam, Ádam and their
virtual homophones in the Bible, or realized that the Sumerian
“god” Enlíl clearly played the role of Šàtam (“territorial
administrator” or “district chief”) on the clay tablets. The
nebulous Enlíl who symbolizes the “God” of the Bible (or the
leader of the Anunna) is none other than Satan! Besides which,
his name, EN-LíL (“the lord of the breath,” or speech) can also
be translated as “the lord of infection”! This is no coincidence
either. Enlíl, the supreme ruler of the terrestrial Gina’abul next
to An, was not liked by the Sumerians, who had not forgotten
that he was a bloodthirsty despot. This is in keeping with the
Gnostic view, which compares the great Archonte to Satan.
 The word SATA exists in Egyptian and can be translated
as “serpent genius” and “child (or son) of the earth” (left).
When the word Satan is written in Egyptian syllables, the
word means both “carry the earth” and “carry evil.” This is
interesting because the verbal form occurs in the second
position, as in the Gina’abul and Sumerian languages. The
imagery that results fits in well with the Mesopotamian and
Christian ideologies, which represent Šàtam (territorial
administrator) and Satan (territorial chief) in similar
ways… or do you think that this is only a coincidence?
On the right (bottom), we see SATA-AN “the handsome
demon serpent,” which alludes to the seductive serpent of
Eden. In volume 2 (Ádam Genisiš) we will see that this could
refer to the Šandan priestesses (herbalists, horticulturists) or
Santana (heads of plantations) who worked in Edin (the
Mesopotamian plain). In “Ádam Genisiš,” we will see how
the Egyptian language was as important as Mesopotamian
in the formation of certain biblical terms.
 Alain Gossens: You mention the terms “Santana” or
“Šandan” in connection with an extraterrestrial creature
who held the functions of agricultural engineer,
horticulturist and plant specialist. Does this name also
have something to do with the “Satan” who was
traditionally regarded as a rebellious angel? Is it connected
with the trees of Life and Knowledge?
Anton Parks: You are right in saying “also.” The word
“Satan” is indeed a combination of Šàtam (“territorial
administrator”) and Šandan (herbalist, horticulturist), or
Santana (head of the plantations). But there is an important
difference between the Šàtam and the Šandan; namely, that the
latter is under the former’s command. The Šàtam has all the
power, he rules over entire regions or territories. This is the
case with Enlíl, who rules the land of Kalam (Sumer). Thus,
he administrates his territories through the Šandan (herbalists,
horticulturists) and the Santana (plantation operators), without
whom he would be incapable of doing anything at all. For in
the world of the Anunna (the ruling caste), the only thing that
mattered was survival thanks to the agricultural plantations!
Now, among the Gina’abul, the Šandan and Santana are all
female. Long before the Sumerians, the Šandan and Santana
were women who worked in the vast Mesopotamian plain
called Edin or Eden… In “The Secret of the Dark Stars,” I go
into sufficient detail about the intimate connection to be found
throughout the world between women and the trees in the
Garden of Eden—and that should answer your last question.
Alain Gossens: The reptilian civilizations that you
describe seem very strange: they are based on segregation
and separation. Segregation of the sexes: a male race, a
female race, an asexual race, a race of robots (represented
by the “Greys”). Was this the result of a degeneration
involving primarily technology and genetic engineering?
Do these “castes” and “races” have the same origin?
Anton Parks: Once again, war is to blame. The Anunna
brought war to Earth. There was no segregation of the sexes
among the Gina’abul originally. When the males, the notorious
Ušumgal and Mušgir, discovered the sexual power of the
females, they realized that they could increase their own
power if they got control of it. Some of them wanted to
imprison the female Gina’abul and subject them to
abominations. The priestesses closed ranks and kept to
themselves, devising secrets and hermetic rituals to protect
themselves from the males. By the way, it was also then that
they created the extra linguistic particles that make up Emešà
(the womb language), which no males are supposed to use.
This enabled them to communicate safely among each other.
The ancestral Gina’abul have the same origin, but the
many conflicts that cropped up in their history explain why
only a few of them stayed at Ušu (the constellation of Draco),
which was the cradle of their race. This is why the Gina’abul
spread out in our universe. For example, the Ušumgal and
most of the Amašutum are to be found in Nalulkára (Ursa
Major), the Kingú in Te (Aquila), the Mušgir and the Mìmínu
(the “Greys”) in Urbar’ra (Lyra), some Amašutum in Mulmul
(the Pleiades), which is where the Anunna were created, etc.
Alain Gossens: You talk about an all-out war between
males and females, male and female reptilians. The males
are cold, power-hungry, technologically oriented, and the
females are better balanced, able to feel empathy and
compassion. Was this a result of the planner’s or reptilian
males’ wanting to push the development of this highly
specialized society, or was it caused by a decadence beyond
their control?
Anton Parks: At the risk of generalizing, I’d say that it
isn’t the women who start the wars on our planet! I’ll get back
to your question shortly. Doesn’t history, and especially
current events worldwide, show us that the men in power are
very often cold, power-hungry and technologically oriented,
whereas the women seem more moderate, generally speaking?
As I already said, the female Gina’abul (the Amašutum)
protected themselves from the males by keeping their distance.
This created tensions that eventually led to murderous
conflicts. Since sexuality had long been abolished, the
Gina’abul took to procreating by means of genetics, which
brought many specimens and hybrids into existence, such as
the Mìmínu (the “Greys”), who are only the slaves of the male
Gina’abul. It was by mutually separating that the reptilian
females and certain males became specialized in cloning. This
can indeed be seen as an ineluctable decadence.
Somewhat later, the Amašutum joined forces with the
Kadištu (planners) of our universe. They had always been
wiser than their male brothers and this was probably the best
way for them to make up for their mistakes of the past. The
chronicles I transmit concern the period following these
events. I think that Barbara Marciniak was contacted by
Amašutum from Mulmul (the Pleiades). I read her first three
books and would say that the messages that she received
complete my own account, since our sources seem to have
been the same. The difference is that Marciniak concentrates
on events that have yet to come, while I relate events from the
distant past… even if they don’t seem to have lost any of their
relevance.
Alain Gossens: Ancient religions and many shamanic
cults throughout the world are devoted to Nature and the
idea of a “sacred femininity.” The Gnostics (Nag
Hammadi) and Mystery cults were also devoted to sacred
femininity and Sophia (wisdom), the source being of all
things in the world. However, today’s monotheistic
religions (the scriptural religions, Christianity, Judaism
and Islam) are paternalistic and worship a strict,
dominating male God (YHWH, Yahweh, Jehovah). They
are also messianic and redemptive religions that promise to
save the souls of the faithful who submit to and obey very
strict rules. As far as Christianity is concerned, love of
one’s neighbor and the cult of the Virgin seem to have been
later additions that actually came from much earlier pagan
traditions. The texts of the Gnostic authors decry these
warlike and militant “masculine” religions as a sort of
virus, an infection from the extraterrestrial Archontes.
Would it be reasonable to think that the Gnostics were in
fact referring to the male reptilians when they were talking
about the Archontes?
Anton Parks: Yes, that’s what I think. Unfortunately, I’m
not telling you anything new when I say that all of this was
done to hide the truth about the origin and appearance of the
“gods” who transformed the human genetic code in order to
alienate their slaves, which they considered no better than
animals (Á-DAM).
I can’t resist the temptation to compare two translations of
a passage from the Dead Sea Scrolls. The excerpt in question
comes from scroll 4Q544, in which we meet two very singular
characters who appear to Moses’ father, Amram. I deliberately
left the brackets indicating lost or damaged passages. The
adulteration is eloquent, but see for yourself:
Translation from Robert Eisenman and Michael Wise,
The Dead Sea Scrolls Uncovered, Element Books,
Shaftesbury, Dorset, 1992:
“[I saw vigils] in my vision, a dream vision. Two (men)
were fighting over me, saying… and having a mighty struggle
over me. I asked them: “Who are you, you who have po[wer
over me?” They answered: “We] [have been given] power and
rule over the whole of humanity.” They told me: “Which of us
do you [choose] [to rule over you?” I raised my eyes and
looked]. [One} of them was terr[i]fying to look at, [like unto a
s]erpent, [his] many-colored, but very dark m[antl]e… [And I
looked again] and… in his appearance, his face like a viper,
and [carrying…]… and I saw the other who was pleasant in
appearance…”
Edward Cook’s translation from Michael Wise, Martin
Abegg and Edward Cook’s, Les Manuscrits de la Mer
Morte, éditions Plon, 2001:
“In my vision, the vision in the dream, two figures were
engaged in a quarrel over me, saying… and vehemently
arguing about me. And so I asked them: ‘How comes it [that
you have power over me?’ They answered: ‘We] are the lords
of humanity and we have power over humanity.’ And they told
me: ‘Which of us… [I raised my eyes and saw] one of them,
whose appearance was horrib[ly] fright[ful]; [his garment
was] multicolored and very dark [… and I saw the other, who
was pleasing of looks…].”
As you may have noticed, the translation from 2001
completely omits the two passages in the 1992 translation that
clearly mention the reptilian aspect of the first “angel.” The
breaks are not at fault because in the 1992 version only the “s”
of “serpent” had to be reconstituted and the word “viper” is
clearly legible… If that isn’t a deliberate manipulation, what is
it?
Alain Gossens: Again, according to Paul Von Ward, the
American author who devoted a book to extraterrestrial
influence on the formation of our civilizations, the power
system we are in the grips of today is the result of the
system imposed by the Anunnaki and Sumerians: a
centralized, hierarchic and patriarchal system with
hereditary monarchies of divine right. What do you think?
Anton Parks: Unfortunately, I can only confirm this. It is
even set down in the Sumerian tablets. Royalty was
transmitted from the “divinity” to humans by way of the
“pompous sacrament.” However, there were two types of
sacrament: one by blood, which we all know, transmitted from
father to son, and so hereditary. But there’s a second, more
hermetic, transmission described in Egyptian manuscripts and
Mesopotamian documents. The goddesses of Antiquity, also
called “Celestial Cows,” chose a lover to whom they
transmitted their divinity and powers by having sexual
relations with them. In the nuptial bed, the lover was invited to
share the vital energy of the goddess (or of one of her acolytes
acting as a sacred prostitute) in order to gain immortality and
become a “Bull of the Heavens.” After the ritual, the man
became the goddess’ husband and invested with royal
functions. These rituals were practiced in Sumeria and Egypt,
as well as in classical Greece.
We know the story of Romulus and Remus (the founders
of Rome), who were adopted by a she-wolf who nursed them
with her milk and saved them from certain death. The
symbolism of this story is blatant, since the Latin word for
wolf, “Luma,” also means prostitute. In Antiquity, priestesses
were assimilated with prostitutes because they transmitted the
sacred energy and royalty of the Mother-Goddess to the future
princes and kings. The she-wolf was in fact a human priestess
who served the cult of the Mother-Goddess and transmitted
her power, although not through sex in this case, but through
her milk. Romulus and Remus were not nursed by a she-wolf,
but by a woman worshipper of the Great Goddess.
And so there are two types of sacraments reflecting
different ideologies. The first is purely patriarchal, for it is the
father (king) who is believed to possess the hereditary powers,
while the second is matriarchal, with the “queen” transmitting
her qualities. As we have seen, there’s a war between the male
and the female among the Gina’abul. This opposition is clearly
manifested here, and it somewhat recalls the secret initiation
of Adam and Eve. The latter were taught by Enki, who
supported the cult of the Mother-Goddess in the form of his
mother, Nammu. The gap between Enki (the geneticist and
“healing” serpent) and Enlíl, the Šàtam (“territorial
administrator) of Edin, already existed, since we know that
Enlíl defended the patriarchal doctrine of the fallen “gods”
who had come to Earth.
Credo Mutwa, a famous Zulu shaman, tells us that the
Tutsi and Hutu of Rwanda call the gods “Imanujela,” which
means reptiles and can be translated as “the Lords who came.”
This word can also be translated into Emešà (the Sumero-
Akkadian womb language). Knowing that the letters “o” and
“j” do not exist in the language of the “gods,” the Rwandan
IMANUJELA (reptiles) can be read as IM (wind, storm,
clouds) AN (sky) ÚH (venom, poison) EL or ÍL (to transport,
elevated, high) Á (strength, power, pledges), or IM-AN-ÚH-
EL-Á, literally “those from the clouds of the sky with venom
who bear power.”
Alain Gossens: According to the texts from Nag
Hammadi, our world is the product of a mistake in the
process of creation initiated by an entity called Sophia
(wisdom), which you mention in Chapter 7. Does Sophia
have a name or equivalence in the memory of the
Gina’abul?
Anton Parks: In Gnostic cosmology, Sophia is an Aeon, a
cosmic and therefore extraterrestrial divinity who belongs to
the great body of divinities called the Pleroma. These galactic
divinities work in the open and can easily be identified with
the Kadištu (planners). These same Kadištu can also be
identified with the Elohim of the Bible. The Hebrew term
Elohim was used in Antiquity to refer to the first divinities
who created the Earth and the original human being of Genesis
(Gen. 1:26). Adam, the slave-animal, appears only in the
second creation (Gen. 2:7) through the will of Yahweh, who is
a combination of the male Sumerian “gods” An, Enlíl and
Enki.
Although Elohim is a feminine plural word that means
“divinities,” it is still being translated as “God.” Decomposing
it into Sumero-Akkadian, we get, EL or ÍL (elevated, very
high) Ú (powerful, strong) HI (mix, combine) IM (clay, mud),
or EL-Ú-HI-IM (the second “i” was left out in Hebrew). Thus
the hidden meaning of Elohim (EL-Ú-HI-IM) is “the powerful
on high who mixed clay (or the clayey, that is, Man!).
Who among the Kadištu (EL-Ú-HI-IM) had close relations
with the patriarchal order called Yahweh (An, Enlíl and
Enki)? There were two entities, Tiamata and her daughter
Nammu; for the Gnostics, respectively Sophia and her
daughter Zoe. The latter name can be decomposed into ZU-È
(“who came out of Wisdom”) in Sumerian.
Alain Gossens: Where do the souls who incarnate into
the bodies of the Gina’abul come from? according to your
account, the technology of these reptilians allows them to
determine not only the form and physical appearance of
these beings at conception but also to control, or program
the soul that is going to incarnate in it.
Anton Parks: Yes, we can say that the Gina’abul are
much more “advanced” in this respect than humans, although I
personally doubt that one can speak of progress when it comes
to genetically programming humanoids… The Gina’abul have
known about cloning for thousands of years. Indications of
this knowledge can be found in clay figures from
Mesopotamia, the Mayan codices and in certain Egyptian
figures such as here, in the tomb of Thutmose III in the Valley
of the Kings. It is difficult not to see a priestess standing in
front of three artificial wombs (or SI-EN-SI-ŠÁR in Sumerian,
“who assembles the many dignitaries in order”). On top of
each of the wombs is an egg fertilized by a spermatozoid, and
inside them are bodies in the process of gestation…
 Anton Parks: The Gina’abul know how to program the
genes of an individual in order to endow him with a particular
character or physiognomy. They can determine in advance,
and even index, as it were, all the knowledge that this
fabricated specimen will have. They use crystals for this,
especially different kinds of quartz. I won’t say more than that
because I’m against these kinds of procedures, which are
completely immoral. The story I tell is full of such genetic
manipulations and I know only too well where it led the
Gina’abul, not to mention the human species.
Now, to answer your original question, the Gina’abul are
incarnated beings just like humans. Some humans can
incarnate among them and vice versa. There is no particular
rule other than the evolution of the species according to
karmic laws—which most of the male Gina’abul do not seem
to have learned yet.
Alain Gossens: Along the same lines, where did the
human souls who were incarnated on the Earth at the time
of the Anunnaki colonization come from and why would
they have created us?
Anton Parks: Uraš (the Earth) is a place of duality in
which the ideas of “good” and “evil” can be experienced in the
extreme. This is not to be judged. Before the Gina’abul and
Anunna took control of the Earth, Uraš was a sort of zoo into
which the Kadištu (planners) had brought all of their
knowledge, which explains the great diversity there. The KI
(third dimension) had a much higher frequency before all the
reptilian wars.
As Marciniak put it so well, the Earth is a living library.
Our Solar System is at the juncture of major pathways that the
planners have been using since the beginning of time. When
the Gina’abul came, this place became something like a Free
Will Zone. Many consider it a great fortune to be able to
incarnate on Earth today because the learning is intensive and
of a very unusual kind. What would have taken thousands of
terrestrial years to learn elsewhere in our galaxy can be
learned here in two or three lives! But the situation is going to
change and the rule of the Gina’abul will soon be at an end…
This is in the order of things and the souls who have been
incarnating on the Earth for thousands of years know this well.
I believe this is why more and more souls are incarnating on
the Earth. They want to take full advantage of the situation!
As you will have realized, the past and present deeds of the
Gina’abul, however subtly concealed, is what permits this
state of affairs… The Gina’abul truncated the human genetic
code to turn Man into a beast of burden (Á-DAM). This is an
ongoing situation, especially when we look with some
detachment at the abnormal and often inhuman conduct of
some world leaders in the service of the galactic gravediggers
that the Kadištu (planners) call Gílimanna (Celestial Bestiary).
At the risk of repeating myself, the souls who incarnate on
the Earth know exactly what they’re getting into! The fact that
most of the Gina’abul have become galactic outlaws and that
they’re at odds with the planning community of our universe is
not incompatible with the karmic tasks to be accomplished
here. It all depends on how you look at it. The soul that will
have experienced negativity in all its forms on Earth will mete
out its own “justice” to itself when it is back above. It will end
up recognizing the universal law of the Golden Rule, put itself
in the service of its neighbor and then of the Source (“God”)
from which it comes and to which it will return in any case.
The rocky roads it may have to take to reach that goal—and
that are sure to generate more suffering—concern only itself…
Alain Gossens: In one passage in your book the male
reptilians are described as literally feeding on fears, terrors
and all the negative energy given off by the “females” in
captivity. The sacrificial religions and cults are supposed to
have provided venerated entities with energy released by
fear and terror during the sacrifice. Did these practices
come into being because these reptilian beings were greedy
for energy? Some writers on the subject of reptilians
mention similar practices with human beings.
Anton Parks: You’re probably referring to authors like
David Icke. I have a lot of respect for him, even if he does
have alarmist views about reptilians as a whole. In spite of this
—in my opinion—debatable position, which comes from his
rigorous way of thinking, I have to admit that Icke is right
about a lot of things.
“Terrestrial” reptilians like the Anunnaki or their direct
descendants need to absorb the low-frequency energy that
human beings release when they’re afraid for the simple
reason that the terrestrial frequency (KI=3rd dimension) is
higher on the Earth than in the other worlds that they occupy
in the galaxy. Don’t forget that the Anunna came to Earth by
chance and that they had a hard time adapting. Since their
arrival on Earth, the Anunna and their blood-related cronies
have never stopped manipulating things to lower the
frequency. The ruling caste of male Gina’abul do not know the
Love that some humans have already integrated. Thus human
beings, even in their present diminished condition, still
represent a threat to this community.
In “The Secret of the Dark Stars” I explained in detail the
role of women, or more exactly, of the Gina’abul priestesses at
the heart of the reptilian community and their association with
the planners, of which they are a part. I detailed the power of
femininity that we on Earth call “power of the Goddess.”
Various male Gina’abul, like the Mušgir and some Ušumgal,
really did imprison females to rob them of their power by
using coercion and torture. This led to a radical split among
the Gina’abul that was repaired only when the female
Gina’abul joined the Kadištu (planners).
However, when some of these priestesses were
shipwrecked with the Anunna on Earth, they did not
systematically ally themselves with the latter. Couldn’t this be
the episode in the garden of Genesis in which Enki (the
Serpent), serving the patriarchal Gina’abul order, finds himself
secretly initiating the Á-DAM, the “colonized herd” (see the
definitions of Adam above), with the help of strange females
called Lilith? Lilith is indeed allied with the Source (the true
God) and this is why she was demonized by the sects that
embody the various patriarchal religions on our planet. Note
that the Gnostic ideology confirms this state of affairs, because
it maintains that the principles of good and evil are reversed on
Earth.
 The episode of the (hidden) initiation of Man is not
mentioned in the biblical Genesis, but can be found in many
images throughout the world, like in the Borgia Codex, plate
57.
 Anton Parks: A priestess of the “Dark Star” is
initiating a man into the knowledge of the sacred tree. The
idea of Dark Star is expressed twice on the figure: once above,
where we see a star with a dark side, and then again in each of
the priestess’ hands, where we see a star and a jaguar (symbol
of Night). Notice the lunar symbols on the priestess that are
associated with the menstrual fluid sanctified in the tantric
rituals of India. In between the figures are two serpents that
stand for Idâ and Pingalâ, the two subtle channels of Kundalinî
that allow the energy to rise in the spine. As we see in the
drawing, the ascent of these subtle currents permits the world
of the stars to be reached, while the movement in the opposite
direction (descending) leads to the “little death” represented
by the skull in the pot or cup that symbolizes the first chakra,
called Muladhara in Sanskrit (“the place of the root”).
Decomposed into Sumerian MUL-ÁD-HARA5 can be
translated as the “brilliance that spreads in the cup…”
Alain Gossens: Nigel Kerner, the British author of a
book about the Greys, describes them as being robots,
explorer-drones given the initial mission of restoring the
deficient genetic heritage of their creators. These organic
robots, subject to a genetic degeneration of their own, are
supposed to have become independent, losing contact over
the centuries with the beings who created them. What do
you think of this description? Don’t you call the Greys
“Mìmínu”?
Anton Parks: Yes, that’s the term I received at the time.
Imagine my surprise when I found out that this word also
exists among the Dogon of Mali and that it means “ant.”
Decomposed into Sumerian it becomes MÌ-MÍ-NU, or “those
responsible for the hostile (or negative) charges.” This
translation is all the more interesting as the shaman Credo
Mutwa calls the Greys “Mantindane,” a Zulu word that means
“executioners.” This word can also be decomposed into
Sumero-Akkadian as MAN (partner, associate, equal) TIN
(live, dwell) DAN (calamity), which makes MAN-TIN-DAN:
“associate(s) in which calamity dwells” or “partner(s) who live
from calamity.”
 From what I know, the “Greys” come originally from Lyra,
where there are many Gina’abul colonies. They work in
groups and function like ants. It is a line of workers that serve
their reptilian creators. The various Gina’abul lineages
fabricated the Mìmínu in the past. There are many different
kinds, depending on the regions. Those associated with the
Solar System, and so created by the Kingú (royal Gina’abul),
are bigger and have hair.
There is ample evidence for the presence of the “Greys” in
the Solar System, if only through the many cases of abduction
reported every year around the globe. I honestly don’t know
what has become of the Mìmínu today. Their fate appears to
have changed somewhat, for they seem to have an
independence that they didn’t have several millennia ago. My
tale, the one I received, ends about 1,500-2,000 years ago. My
knowledge stops there.
Alain Gossens: Some authors, like Credo Mutwa
(“Reptilian Agenda”), Robert Boulay (“Flying Serpents
and Dragon”), Zecharia Sitchin Mark Amaru Pinkham,
William Bramley, etc., say that we were fabricated in part
by the Anunnaki. On the other hand, John Lash (like the
Gnostics) asserts that the reptilians want to make us
believe that they were our creators, and we their creatures.
What’s the story?
Anton Parks: One of the most amazing manipulations of
the Gina’abul is to have alienated human beings and turned
them into animals to serve them. In order to do so, the
Gina’abul started out with the original humanoid and then
mixed in their own genes and those of the monkey. The
original human being was assembled by the Kadištu
(planners). His function was to keep the animal farm of the
planetary garden. As Genesis (1:26) points out, he was the last
specimen to have been included in the planner’s live
reservation, the purpose of which was to compile the genetic
knowledge of the emissaries of the Source. The original
human being was highly respected, for he combined in himself
the genetic heritage of several planner species.
 The special mix conceived by the Gina’abul to produce
their Á-DAM called for a composition that would be
impossible for human scientists to reproduce today. It came
from the same kind of procedure that the Kadištu had used to
assemble the original human being. Enki, the son of An and
Nammu, was entrusted with this sorry task under constraints
that will be explained in the second volume. I call this genetic
combination “mixed blood” in my first book. I will never give
any more information about this subject for the reasons
already mentioned above. Humanity has an amazing destiny.
The aim of humanity is not to make the same mistakes as the
thieving reptilians who kept passing themselves off as its
creators!
The dismaying aspect of the Á-DAM-animal happens to be
attested by many traditions, especially in the apocryphal texts,
which were written during the same period as the biblical
texts, but not approved by the Church. Why not? Because
these writings seriously upset the official version of things:
Apocryphal “Book of Adam,” excerpts from chapters
13 and 15, (translated from “Le Livre d’Adam”, éditions
Robert Laffont, 1980):
“Who plunged me into the infinite sadness of the evil
angels of foetid stench, of abominable shape? Who cast me in
the midst of these of evil genies? Must I grow and increase in
an environment that I despise, among beings whose works I
abhor? Must I adopt their shape, live in their homes…? Why
has my former shape been altered? Ah, if only I could return to
the peaceful sojourn to which my heart aspires! If only I could
again have the celestial gatherings and talks and effusive
prayers of the peaceful ones; May I be illuminated by the light
from above and may I finally be rid of these wrappings of
opprobrium. How long will I be tied to this body of mud?”
Apocryphal “Apocalypse of Adam”, Gnostic texts from
Nag Hammadi, N-H Codex 5, Translated by George W.
MacRae:
“When God had created me out of the earth, along with
Eve, your mother, I went about with her in a glory which she
had seen in the aeon from which we had come forth. She
taught me a word of knowledge of the eternal God. And we
resembled the great eternal angels, for we were higher than the
god who had created us and the powers with him, whom we
did not know. Then God, the ruler of the aeons and the powers,
divided us in wrath… Since that time, we learned about dead
things, like men. Then we recognized the God who had
created us. For we were not strangers to his powers. And we
served him in fear and slavery. And after these things, we
became darkened in our heart(s).”
Credo Mutwa, again, calls the reptilians who rule this world
the “Chitauli,” which means “dictators” in Zulu. Decomposed
into Sumerian, we get ŠITA4 (group) UL (splendor, ancient) I
(dominate, master), which together makes ŠITA4-UL-I, “the
group of the splendor that dominates” or “the group of
ancient(s) who dominate.” This translation recalls the meaning
of the Sumerian word for lizard(s), GINA-AB-UL, “true
ancestor(s) of the splendor.”
Alain Gossens: According to the same authors, the
reptilians are still supposed to be on the Earth. Some
“lines” or “races” are thought to live underground. Others
are supposed to control our leaders, having taken over and
created the hereditary lineages of the ruling class. What do
you think? Can we really talk about a “Reptilian Agenda”
or “reptilian plan” to manipulate the world and our souls,
and to what end?
Anton Parks: The reptilians have been in conflict with
each other for a very long time and this war is still raging on
our planet. Humanity as a whole is paying a very high price!
The Earth is an important issue for the caste of male
Gina’abul. I am no expert on today’s geopolitical events, but
the information that I gathered over ten long years permits me
to make the following conclusions:
Now that they are no longer in direct contact with their re-
creators, human beings want to give themselves the impression
of mastering their own history and destiny. They fall back on
the official version fabricated by the powers-that-be, which are
themselves manipulated behind the scenes by the male
Gina’abul.
 The Anunna and their terrestrial descendants are at war
with the royal Gina’abul called Kingú, who claim to be the
owners of the Earth. This very ancient war should not affect
present humanity in any way. Nevertheless, the male
Gina’abul use humans as cannon fodder… In their eyes,
humans are nothing but Á-DAM (animals) and they fight each
other for the two clans through subtly interposed conflicts.
Simply put, I believe that the Anglo-American forces are
working for the Anunna faction and their direct descendants,
while the royal Gina’abul use the northern countries to fight
against their blood-related enemies. Those who consider
themselves to be at the top of the social pyramid of the
Gina’abul are the royals called Kingú-Babbar, which means
the albino Kingú! These are very fearsome reptilians with
white skin. They despise the Ušumgal, their Anunna and their
descendants, which does not keep them from joining forces
with them when it suits their purposes. This is where the
incredible story of the “pure race” (Aryan) comes from.
 King Šulgi of Ur (2094-2047 BC), ruler of Sumeria and
Akkad. He was deified in order to highlight his divine
origins. On this clay seal, we see him facing a dragon who
transmits his divine powers. One hymn mentions that
“Šulgi has a fierce gaze and was born of an Ušumgal (Great
Dragon)” (BM 116719, Uruk).
 Anton Parks:
There are many different sources that maintain that the
United States are still at war with Germany today. Consider
the simple fact that no peace treaty was signed between the
Allies and Germany at the close of the Second World War.
Was this really an oversight? The Anunna and the Kingú
(royals) use human beings as pawns and the Earth as a huge
game board. They have been settling their scores in this sordid
way for thousands of years. Each thinks they are the most
powerful and so have the most rights over Uraš (Earth).
The Ušumgal-Anunna and their descendants hole up in
caves and other hollow subterranean spaces. The “purest,” or
least “altered,” of them do not (or no longer) tolerate the third
dimension (KI), which keeps on (re)increasing in frequency
over the course of time. Some of them prefer to dwell in the
second dimension which, due to its density on Earth, could
very well correspond to the third dimension on another planet.
As far as I know, the albino royals do not have this problem
with the frequencies. Those who live on the Earth are located
more at the poles or the fringes of the Abzu (subterranean
world). To my knowledge, they do not actually inhabit the
Abzu itself. The royals also control areas under certain
mountains and bases throughout the Solar System, including
the Moon… The Gina’abul group to which my main character
belonged was in between these two opposed blood-related
communities. This “rebellious” group, which was composed
primarily of Amašutum (female planners), Ama’argi
(terrestrial female Gina’abul) and Nungal (clone planners),
spent its time compromising with these opposed communities,
creating political complications on Earth. Humans of whatever
skin color have always served their re-creators. This is alluded
to in the African term “Wazungu,” which means “the people of
the whirlwind demons,” a plural term used by many African
tribes to describe extraterrestrials of the “northern” type. Its
decomposition into Sumero-Akkadian reveals its deeper
meaning: WA (understanding) ZU (wisdom, knowledge) UN
(people, population) GU7 (bring food offerings, food,
nourishment), WA-ZU-UN-GU: “those with understanding
and knowledge to whom the people bring food offerings (or
nourishment)”!
The explosion of the original language into thousands of
different idioms (which can be decomposed into Sumero-
Akkadian) is a consequence of the conflict between the rebel
Gina’abul (serving the Kadištu-planners) and the other two
clans who fight over their claims to the Earth. The progressive
disappearance of the language of the heavens from humanity
was orchestrated, not in order to rule better, but to disorganize
the subjection of humans by the Kingús (royals) and the
Anunna.
Isn’t that a source of much hope? Those who watched over
the Garden and granted humans a modicum of independence
knew perfectly well what they were doing. Religious traditions
turned them into enemies of God, but the truth is exactly the
opposite! These beings—for the most part servants of the
planners—never stopped codifying the languages of the Earth
in order to avoid a globalization, the only purpose of which
would have been to centralize power (in the hands of you-
know-who) and robotize humanity. Now do you understand
what is happening today? The world conflicts, the terrorist
attacks, the increasing instability, all of this only serves the
flesh-eaters! And so they pursue their little wars, they try to
reduce the frequency of the KI (third dimension) that is
supposed to act as a springboard to higher levels and they
weaken humanity…
The time has finally come to decode what has been
encoded. As I demonstrated in “The Secret of the Dark Stars”
and in more general terms here, the decomposition of many
words from the four corners of the world is possible thanks to
the coded language of the rebel Gina’abul. This is valuable
information, for it reveals the origins of humanity as well as
the path to be followed… This path is none other than the path
of the spirit and the light that connects us all to a universal
consciousness that points beyond this planet. The word
spirituality comes from the Latin SPIRITUALIS, which comes
from SPIRITUS (“spirit”). In the language of the “gods,” this
decomposes to SI (light), PIRIG (bright) and the verbal form
ÚS (to be close to, follow, reach), or SI-PIRIG-ÚS: “to follow
the bright light“. This is the light that we will all reach
someday, whether we are human or Gina’abul…
© 2005 November Alain Gossens (Karmaone) /
Karmapolis
© 2005 November 2005 Anton Parks, for the Sumero-
Akkadian decompositions, translations and interpretations
 GLOSSARY Gina’abul-
Sumerian and derivative terms
Abgal = sage(s) of the Gagsisá system (Sirius).
Abzu = abyss, the underground, netherworld; the hollow
part of a planet that contains subterranean water.
Abzu-Abba = king of the Gina’abul of Margíd’da (Big
Dipper, Ursa Major), one of the seven Ušumgal. Originally he
was the king of all the Abzu of the Gina’abul colonies.
Adhal = major city on the planet Dukù in the stellar
system of Ubšu’ukkinna.
Ádam (Á-DAM) = animals, beasts, herds.
Alağní = clone.
Am = lord.
Amašutum = female Gina’abul; members of the Kadištu
(planners).
An = creator of Sa’am and the Anunna, of which he is the
supreme commander; one of the seven Ušumgal.
Anduruna = Gina’abul stellar system in the constellation
Margíd’da (Big Dipper, Ursa Major); it corresponds to the star
Dubhe.
ANGAL = higher dimensional level on which the Kadištu
live; the ANGAL is inaccessible to the male Gina’abul.
Anšár = father-creator of An, one of the seven Ušumgal.
Anunna = lit. “princely offspring,” warrior line of the
Gina’abul created by An and Ninmah on the Dukù.
Búluğ = novice.
Damkina = DAM-KIN-A, lit. “the spouse who orders the
Source,” one of Mamítu-Nammu’s titles; this term also exists
in Akkadian (Damkina). Mesopotamian tradition identifies her
as the wife of Nudímmud.
Danna = hour.
 Diğir or Dingir = divinity (or divinities).
Diranna = star gate (access to an atemporal vortex, cf.
Turzalag).
Dukù = name of the principal planet in the Ubšu’ukkinna
system (the star Maia) in the constellation Mulmul (Pleiades).
Emean = lit. “language of the Heavens”; one of the names
given by humans to the Emenita language.
Emenita = male language from which Sumerian was
derived.
Emešà = womb language of the priestesses that includes
the Sumerian and Assyro-Babylonian (Akkadian) syllabaries;
key to the encoded languages of the Earth.
Enimin = series name (number) of Enlíl; lit. “the lord
seven.”
Enlíl = lit. “the lord of the breath,” or, more exactly, “the
lord who holds the power of the breath of speech and words.”
Ereš = queen.
Erešiš = divine title, lit. “queen of the stars.”
Gagsisá = stellar system of Sirius.
Ğála = vagina.
Ğèš = penis.
Gibil’lásu = renewal of the skin (slough).
Gibilzišàğál = reincarnation.
Ğidruğíri = lit. “staff of lightning,” Gina’abul weapon.
Gigirlah = term used by the priestesses to refer to a
Gina’abul spacecraft; lit. “sparkling wheel.”
Gílimanna = the Celestial Bestiary.
Gina’abul = reptilian race that includes the Šutum, the
Amašutum, the Kingú (royals) and the Kingú-Babbar (albino
royals), the Mušgir (Dragons), the Mìmínu (Greys), the
Nungal planners and the Anunna warriors; later in this series,
also the human Ama’argi priestesses.
 Gina’abul-Sumerian (language) = term used in the
footnotes to refer to Emešà.
Ğírkù = lit. the “sacred flash of light” or the “sacred
sword.” The Ğírkù are cylindrical crystals that belong to the
Amašutum and contain much information.
Ğiš = “tree.”
Gissu = shadow.
Gúrkur = spherical Gina’abul object that permits travel
between the first three dimensions.
Iníuma = oblong Gina’abul spacecraft used for long-
distance travel.
Ka’áúè = corn (grain).
Kadištu = Planners of the universe working for the
Original Source (“God”). The Kadištu community is made up
of many different galactic races. The word KAD4-IŠ7-TU (lit.
“ancient assemblers of life”) can be found in the Akkadian
word Qadištu (holy woman), which was one of the names for
high priestesses.
KI = 3rd dimension, dwelling place of today’s humanity;
also used to refer to the planet Earth or to a specific place.
KIGAL = lower level containing the various dimensional
levels of the lower astral realm that includes the first two
dimensions (KUR-BALA and KUR-GAL) and the KI
dimension.
Kuku = ancestor.
Kingú = royal Gina’abul who live in the constellation of
Ušu (Draco, the Dragon).
Kingú-Babbar = lit. “albino Kingú”; the leaders of the
Kingú and ruling royalty of the constellation Ušu (Draco, the
Dragon), birthplace of the Gina’abul.
Kinsağ = telepathy.
Kišár = androgynous brother of Anšár and one of the
seven Ušumgal.
 KUR = lower dimension in which the Gina’abul live: it
includes the two dimensions of the lower astral realm, KUR-
BALA and KUR-GAL (see below).
KUR-BALA = 1st dimension of the lower astral realm.
KUR-GAL = 2nd dimension of the lower astral realm.
Kùsig = gold.
Lahamu = androgynous offspring of Abzu-Abba, scion of
the royal family of Urbar’ra (the constellation Lyra, the Lyre);
one of the seven Ušumgal.
Lahmu = offspring of ‘Abzu-Abba, scion of the royal
family of Urbar’ra (see above). Genetic homologue of
Lahamu; one of the seven Ušumgal.
Limamu = thousands of years (millennia).
Lugal = master.
Mamítu-Nammu (Mam, Mamí, Mama) = great Gina’abul
planner who worked with the Kadištu; she was also the chief
planner on Uraš (Earth) and daughter of Queen Tiamata.
Mardukù = lit. “that which is spread and applied on
Dukù.” Code of laws elaborated by Mamítu-Nammu and
Sa’am-Nudímmud to administrate the Anunna on Dukù.
Marduk became a sacred title granted to the executive
sovereign of the Mardukù.
Margíd’da = constellation of the Big Dipper (Ursa
Major), lit. the “elongated chariot.” This name was also given
by the male Gina’abul to their spacecraft. MAR-GÍD-DA can
be translated as “chariot of distance.”
ME = crystal containing the Gina’abul arts and laws.
Mìmínu = strain of workers created by the Gina’abul;
commonly referred to today as the “Greys.”
Muanna = year.
Muanna-Zalag = light years.
Mulge = lit. the “black star”; sacred planet of the
Amašutum and Kadištu in the Ti-ama-te system (Solar
System). This planet orbited the sun between Mars and Jupiter.
Mulmul = the constellation of the Pleiades.
Muš = serpent, reptile.
Mušgir = type of dragon, ancient Gina’abul strain
recreated by An and Anšár.
Mú’u = Gina’abul aircraft in the shape of an airplane or
shuttle.
Mystical Path = the raising of sexual energy through
meditation.
Nalulkára = mother planet of the Gina’abul in the
Anduruna system, in the constellation Margíd’da.
Namkiágna = love.
Namlú’u = term used by the “gods” and the Sumerians to
refer to primordial humanity.
Níama = universal force in all things, life force.
Nindiğir = lit. “celestial priestess”; another name for the
Amašutum.
Ninmah = high priestess of Nalulkára and Tiamata’s right
arm. With An, she was the co-creator of the Anunna.
Nitahlam = lover.
Nudímmud = “cloner,” one of Sa’am’s titles: lit. “he who
fashions and gives birth to images.”
Nungal = race of male planners created by Sa’am and
Mamítu-Nammu.
Rìg’ğíri = weapon, “lightning spear.”
Sa’am = cloned son of An; protagonist and narrator of the
Chronicles, also called Nudímmud.
Šagra = ŠAG4-RA or ŠÀ-AK-RA, lit. “heart that empties
(or floods)”. This term has the same meaning as its near-
homophone in Sanskrit, chakra, “wheel.”
Šàlam = capital of the underground world of Nalulkára,
seat of the Ušumgal.
 Salbatánu = the name of the planet Mars in the womb
language (SAL-BA-TÁN-U, lit. “the womb of the rations of
the crown”); this word also exists in Akkadian (Salbatânu).
Šan = mistress.
Šandan = arboriculturist, horticulturist, herbalist.
Santana = head of a plantation.
Sé’et = disciple of Mamítu-Nammu.
Šèka = northern and southern openings of an Abzu.
Siensišár = artificial womb.
Sukkal = major race of planners; characterized by bird-
shaped bodies.
Šutum = Gina’abul male(s).
Tangible Path = the raising of sexual energy through
intercourse.
Tiamata (Tigeme) = queen of the Gina’abul of Margíd’da;
one of the seven members of the Ušumgal council.
Ti-ama-te = the Solar System.
Tigeme = male Gina’abul name from Margíd’da for Queen
Tiamata.
Turzalag (particles) = tachyon particles that compose the
main structure of the dark matter in the universe and of the
atemporal vortices (Diranna).
Uanna = An’s gigantic spacecraft.
Ubšu’ukkinna = name of the Gina’abul star system in
Mulmul (Pleiades), centered on the star Maia.
Ud = day(s).
Uğa-Muš = People of the Serpent, name given to the
Amašutum.
Ugur = name given to Sa’am’s Ğírkù.
Únamtila = “the plant of life.”
Unir = pyramid.
 Unulahgal = capital of the planet Nalulkára ruled by the
Amašutum.
Uraš = Gina’abul name for the planet Earth.
Urbar’ra = constellation of the Lyre (Lyra).
Ušu = constellation of the Dragon (Draco).
Ušumgal = “Great Dragon,” name of the seven rulers of
the Gina’abul in the constellation of Margíd’da. The seven
Ušumgal originated in the constellation of Urbar’ra. They
survived the Great War that split the Gina’abul.
Úzug = menses.
Zagdu = major city in the southern part of Dukù.
Zalag = light.
Zišàğál = incarnation.
 BIBLIOGRAPHY of the texts
cited at the beginning of each
chapter (in order of appearance;
web resources giving where
possible)
(1) LE LIVRE D’ADAM ou “CODE NAZAREEN,”
éditions Robert Laffont, Paris, 1980; THE BOOK OF
ADAM Translated from the Georgian original.
 Translator: J.-P. Mahe
(http://www.pseudepigrapha.com/pseudepigrapha/TheBo
okOfAdam.htm)
(2) FACSIMILE OF MESOPOTAMIAN TEXTS AND
CUNEIFORM LITERATURE (Don Moore, private
collection)
(3) J.F. Blumrich, KÁSSKARA UND DIE SIEBEN
WELTEN, Die Geschichte der Menscheit in der
Uberlieferung der Hopi-Indianer, Knaur, Munich 1985
(1979)
(4) THE ZOHAR: The Book of Enlightenment, Trans. and
commented by Daniel Chanan Matt, Paulist Press 1983
(5) Hervé Rousseau, LE DIEU DU MAL, Presses
Universitaires de France, 1963
(6) Yan Hansheng, Suzanne Bernard, LA MYTHOLOGIE
CHINOISE, éditions You-Feng, 2002
(7) MYTHOLOGIES – Anthologie des mythes et légendes
du monde, Gründ, 2002
(8) THE JERUSALEM BIBLE, Darton, Longman &
Todd, 1966
(9) Paul Grimal, MYTHOLOGIES DES PEUPLES
LOINTAINS OU BARBARES, Librairie Larousse, 1963
(10) Christian Jacq, LA TRADITION PRIMORDIALE
DE L’EGYPTE ANCIENNE SELON LES TEXTES
DES PYRAMIDES, éditions Bernard Grasset, 1998
(11) Geza Vermes, THE COMPLETE DEAD SEA
SCROLLS IN ENGLISH, Penguin, 1988
(12) THE GNOSTIC SOCIETY LIBRARY - The Nag
Hammadi Library:
www.gnosis.org/naghamm/nhlalpha.html
(13) Alain Daniélou, MYTHES ET DIEUX DE
L’INDE, éditions du Rocher, 1992
(14) Alain Daniélou, SHIVA ET DIONYSOS
(Documents Spirituels), Librairie Arthème Fayard, 1979
(15) File on the VIMANA of India;
http://www.chez.com/pioum/conspirations/vimana.htm
(16) Robert Ambelain, LA NOTION GNOSTIQUE DU
DEMIURGE dans les écritures et les traditions Judéo-
Chrétiennes, éditions Bussière, 2002
(17) Frank Waters, THE BOOK OF THE HOPI,
Penguin, 1977
(18) Michel Tardieu, ECRITS GNOSTIQUES (Berlin
Codex) éditions du Cerf, 1984;
http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/~humm/Resources/Texts/nagHa
m.html
(19) Christine Bastien, FOLIES, MYTHES ET
MAGIES D’AFRIQUE NOIRE, éditions l’Harmattan,
Paris 1988
(20) THE SIVA PURANA, 4 vols., trans. and
annotated by A Board of Scholars, General Ed. Prof. J.L.
Shastri, Motilal Banarsidass Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005
(21) RIG-VEDA, Prof. R. L. Kashyap and Prof. S.
Sadagopan, Sri Aurobindo Kapali Sastry Institute of
Vedic Culture,1998
(22) Erik Hornung, THE ANCIENT EGYPTIAN
BOOK OF THE AFTER LIFE (The Amduat), trans. by
David Lorton, Cornell University Press, 1999
(23) Marc Smedt, PAROLES DU BOUDDHA, éditions
Albin Michel, 1993; http://what-buddha-said.net/ (The
Pali Canon)

(24) THE EGYPTIAN BOOK OF THE DEAD, trans.

by Raymond Faulkner, ed. by Carol Andrews, U. of
Texas Press, Austin 1972;
http://www.touregypt.net/bkofdead.htm
(25) Dr. Christian David Ginsburg’s edition of the
MASSORAH (Massoretic Bible), 1880;
http://www.seforimonline.org/seforim3.html
 [1] Jazz double bassist René Gossens, also spelled Goossens
- real name René Goldstein - later accompanied Ella Fitzgerald
and Buddy de Franco during the period 1947 - 1950. He also
played several times with Count Basie as well as Ray Brown at
a single concert. Alain’s father was also the bassist
accompanying Jacques Brel and Salvatore Adamo at their
beginnings.
[2]Alain Gossens, Contrôle Total (Children of Chaos and the
Great Fair of Mind Manipulation). Extract from his unpublished
book.
[3] Ibidem. N.D.E. Anton Parks ne possède que de rares
extraits de ce livre qu’Alain lui avait envoyé.
[4]See the author’s foreword published in “Dream of Eternal
Time – Book of Nuréa” (Volume 0 of the Chronicles), available
here.
[5] In December 1945 was discovered in Upper Egypt, at
Shenesêt, near Nag Hammadi, a large jar containing a whole
library composed of 13 volumes on papyrus, comprising 55
treatises for a total of 1196 pages. These are Gnostic documents,
a term from the Greek Gnôsis “knowledge”. These manuscripts
are written in Coptic language and their composition is
evaluated between the 3rd and 5th century AD. It is estimated
that the original texts written in Greek (now defunct) dated from
the 2nd century, perhaps even before, but this debate creates an
unease leading to think that the original texts would be
contemporary with the first biblical texts. Even today, there is
debate about the precise identity of those who hid these precious
documents, no doubt for the purposes of safeguarding and
disseminating them for future generations. Some think it would
be the Sethian community. One can easily imagine the Gnostic
communities of Egypt having concealed these texts, these same
groups which gradually disappeared during the numerous
persecutions inflicted by the first Christians. The multiple
adventures that accompanied the dissemination of these
manuscripts no doubt explain that for several decades they were
totally unknown to the layman. After much discussion and
transaction, this batch of manuscripts can be found today again
in the Coptic Museum in Cairo. Despite some translation efforts,
especially in the English-speaking language, Nag Hammadi’s
texts are still not very accessible and therefore little known. A
sort of conspiracy of silence surrounds this impressive
collection of ancient Gnostic texts, for the most part, entirely
unknown until their discovery.
This discovery stirred the press, two years later, of writings from
the Dead Sea, yet showing strong similarities between the
Essene sect and the early Christian Church, where we find the
same messianic expectations, the same rites or even the same
moral ideal, but nothing about the Nag Hammadi manuscripts…
It must be said that the content of the Gnostic texts and
particularly those of Nag Hammadi hardly agrees with the idea
propagated by the Judeo-Christian religion . There is indeed a
divinity compared to the God creator of the Earth by the name
of Demiurge or Archon, but he is considered as an inferior god,
a clumsy creator of the world and of the current body of Man.
The Demiurge thinks he is God, yet he is not the true God, but
rather a bad angel. The Demiurge is surrounded by a multitude
of angels in his service, named Archons, but they themselves are
only evil powers. Like their leader, these latter do not know the
true God (the Original Source) since they take themselves for
gods! We learn there that there is a divine emanation of the
feminine type called Sophia, in Greek “Wisdom”, or even
Barbélô, which gave rise to the process of the original creation
composed of the original and spiritual humanity subsequently
brought to clothe animal bodies, a humanity precipitated in a
cruel world of matter under the influence of the Demiurge and
his greedy and hostile celestial Archons. As for Christ, also very
present among the Gnostics, he is of course a kind of savior, but
above all a revelator, he is the one who revealed to the world the
true God but also the imposture of the Demiurge and his
Archons who rule the world. .
As we explore, as for Volume 0 of Chronicles, we will come
back regularly to the texts of Nag Hammadi, which will provide
remarkable details on the priestesses of Tiamata, associated with
Sophia / Barbélô (prototype of the Holy Spirit), or even the
Anunna. transformed into Archons or sons of these (the evil
powers) who surround the Demiurge or great Archon, the “false
god.”
[6] This pact is unveiled at the end of this book, in a part
reinstated in this new complete edition.
[7] The origin of the term Uraš remains a mystery to experts
on the Sumerian tablets, its provenance being lost in the mists of
time. On the clay tablets, Uraš not only represents the Earth, but
also merges with a primordial Mother Goddess. We find the
main structure of this term in several words referring to the
Earth, for example: EARTH in English, ERDE in German, ERA
in Greek, ARZ in Arabic, ERETZ in Hebrew, etc. Uraš is found,
among others, in the Sumerian expression AN-URAŠ “Heaven
and Earth” which was sometimes used to refer to the universe. It
was not until much later, in Babylonian times and under the
influence of a growing patriarchy, that Uraš suddenly became a
god. The latter passed all the same to be the ancestor of the god
Anu (An in Sumerian), the king of the “gods” of Mâtu or
KALAM (Sumer).
[8] AM-IN5, litt. “by the force of the sovereign” in Suméro-
Akkadien (matrix language or obscure language) or AM-EN,
litt. “until the power” in Sumerian. We find these two terms in
the Hebrew form Amen “so be it”, in Arabic Amyn “in truth” or
in Kabyle Amin “(it is) like that.”
[9] The decomposition of the Sumerian word SI-EN-SI-ŠÁR
lit. means that “which assembles the many dignitaries in order.”
The Siensišár are artificial wombs (matrixes) used by the
“deities” of Sumerian mythology to create (or assemble) clones.
This term can be found in such myths as that of Enki and
Ninmah, in which the “god” Enki has to build a Siensišár, study
it and then create humanity. In a bilingual (Sumero-Akkadian)
version of this myth, the term Siensišár is replaced by the
Akkadian word “Šassuru,” which means “womb.”
[10] “Alağní”is an ancient term used to refer to clones. Its
decomposition into Sumerian, ALAĞ-NÍ, means “the powerful
image” or “the image of oneself.” In ancient times, creating a
clone meant creating a being, often in one’s own image, but
even more so endowing it with new qualities, and so creating an
image that could be better than the original. There were other
Sumerian expressions for “clone,” such as NÍĞ-ZI-ĞÁL, which
means “creature,” or, syllable by syllable, “a thing (or property)
in which life has been placed.”
[11] GI-NA-AB-UL is the name of the race whose story is
told in this book. Deciphered into Sumerian syllables, GI-NA
(real, true), AB (contraction of AB-BA “ancestor, father”) and
UL (magnificence, abundance, splendor),it means “the true
ancestors of magnificence (or splendor).” Much later in Sumer,
this term became a synonym for “lizard.”
[12] The term UŠUM-GAL (Great Dragon, monarch) occurs
in Sumerian literature. This attribute was basically assigned to
Sumerian “gods,” and subsequently to the kings and rulers of
KALAM (Sumeria). Its many definitions—“great dragon,
““monarch,” “sovereign” and “great lord”—confirm the
reptilian origin of the “gods” of the Earth and their royal
descendants (see note 5). In addition to this, the Sumerian word
MUŠ (reptile, serpent) reinforces the humanoid-reptilian
connection with royalty through the homophone MÚŠ (or
MUŠ2 / MUŠ3), which has the meanings of an appearance, an
aspect, a face and… royal diadem. A reptilian diadem decorated
the crowns of the pharaohs. MUŠ2 is the first syllable in the
name of many deities. Used as a verbal particle, it means
sparkle and shine. In ancient times, the kings were considered
earthly incarnations of the gods in heaven,. The “deities”
themselves shone in the eyes of simple mortals and they all
embodied the Sun.
Note that the Egyptian term Djet means both eternity and
body. It consists of the principal hieroglyph DJ, which
represents a rearing serpent. DJ is used as a dominant particle in
the name of the “god” Djehuty (Thoth, lord of knowledge) and
for the verb to speak. This confirms the close relationship
between the hidden knowledge of the Garden of Eden and its
guardian, the Serpent, who had the ability to communicate with
humans.
[13]The word UŠUM-GAL (Great Dragon, monarch) has
other Sumerian definitions: “monster with combined powers” or
“great composite creature.” The UŠUM-GAL had great powers,
were masters in the art of cloning, and fabricated entities
themselves, i.e. clones.
 [14]The origin of the term Uraš remains a mystery to the
experts on the Sumerian tablets, for it comes from the
beginnings of time. On the clay tablets, Uraš represents not only
the Earth but also the primordial Mother-Goddess. The main
structure of this word is found in many words referring to the
Earth: the English EARTH, the German ERDE, the Greek ERA,
the Arabic ARZ, and the Hebrew ERETZ, to mention only a
few. Uraš can also be found in the Sumerian expression AN-
URAŠ “Heaven and Earth,” which was sometimes used to refer
to the Universe. Only much later, during the Babylonian period
and under the influence of the spread of patriarchy, did Uraš
suddenly became a god. The latter was even considered the
ancestor of the god Anu (An, in Sumerian), the king of the
“gods” of Mâtu, or KALAM (Sumer).
[15]TheKachinas are the spiritual guides of the Hopi Indians
in Arizona. Their legends and traditions are full of creator
figures who came to Earth from other planets to seed it and
guide humanity.
[16]MAR-GÍD-DA was the word used by males for the
special Gina’abul spacecrafts. It came from the name that the
Gina’abul gave to their home in the constellation of the Big
Dipper (MAR-GÍD-DA), which in this case means “the long
chariot“.
[17]Anduruna is the stellar system that corresponds to the star
Dubhe in the Big Dipper (Ursa Major), and can be literally
translated as “the home of the sky“.
[18]The word Amašutum decomposes into AMA-ŠU-TUM,
which translates as “the mothers who lay out the work” or
simply as “the mothers who work”.
[19] The Sumerian name TI-GEME2 means “the servant of
life.” Its equivalent on the Akkadian tablets is “Tiamat.”
[20]In Sumerian literature, the Abzu is the subterranean
realm of the planet Earth in which all the waters flow to create
an underground sea. The Abzu is the abyss of the world. It
decomposes into AB (hole, opening, and father, as in the
Akkadian “Abu”) and ZU (knowledge, wisdom), which together
means “the hole of knowledge” or “the wisdom of the father.” In
Sumerian mythology, Abzu is the home of the “god” Enki-Ea,
considered to be the deity of wisdom and the father of humanity.
Contrary to scholarly opinion, each planet is hollow and has an
Abzu. This is one of the best-kept secrets in the world… and a
formidable dilemma for Science, since recognizing that all
planets are hollow would mean admitting that the Earth, too, is
hollow. This would mean that the interior of the Earth is
inhabitable, and would require some explanation, not to mention
expeditions to the center of the Earth. However, this is
impossible at present. Why? Because, in accordance with many
legends about the Earth and Tibetan traditions from Tibet, the
Eskimos and the Hopi Indians, the bowels of the Earth are
inhabited by a highly developed civilization that is believed to
be directly (or indirectly) affiliated with the Celestial Bestiary!
(For more information on this subject, see the files at
www.antonparks.net)
[21]The word Šutum means “lizard” in Sumerian. This
information permits us to read Amašutum as AMA- ŠUTUM
“the mother lizards.” Šutum decomposes into ŠU-TUM, which
translates as “those who lay out the work.” Originally, the
Šutum were workers in the service of the Gina’abul.
[22]The Gina’abul are not human beings in the sense of the
anthropocentric ideology that restricts the use of reason solely to
the human race. Among the Gina’abul, the women are females
and the men are males.
[23]U -NIR literally means “the upward gaze (or ‘that
6
culminates’).” It was the ancient Sumerian term designating the
Ziggurats, the square-plan stepped pyramids of the Paleo-
Babylonian period. The word “Ziqqurratu” (Ziggurat) was
written with the Sumerian ideogram U6-NIR. The Unir had
small shrines at the top reserved for the “gods” who had come
from the heavens. Inside this strictly private space, the “gods”
appeared to unite sexually with human priestesses. We might
point out the remarkable similarity between the Sumerian word
U-NIR and the French verb unir (to unite, join), which comes
from the Latin unire (see also note 52).
[24] Many photographs made by NASA and observatories
show magnificent auroras at the poles of planets like Jupiter and
Saturn. The origins of the auroras (borealis and australis) are
still largely unknown, contrary to what science would have us
believe! It is still a subject of debate among the scientists
themselves. The aurora is a phenomenon that involves
emissions of light in the regions above the arctic circle and is
caused by the stimulation of charged particles suspended in the
Earth’s atmosphere. These particles are supposed to come from
the sun, being channeled into the atmosphere at the poles. Many
scientists compare this emission of light to a gigantic cathode
tube and the lower polar atmosphere to a huge TV screen onto
which the auroras are projected. What divides scientific opinion
is the question as to what causes this process. Many scientists
think that the source is the sun, or rather solar wind, while
others refute this with the argument that the solar wind is
inevitably deviated by the magnetic fields around the Earth.
Indeed, the latter do deflect as much as 98% of the cosmic
particles. Edmund Halley (1656-1749) was the first scientist to
have tried to explain the auroras as reflections of light emitted
by the interior sun that illuminates the subterranean world. His
work was published in The Philosophical Transactions of the
Royal Society of London, but not at all well received by his
fellow scientists. His research has gained little acceptance, and
today Halley is better known as the astronomer who discovered
the comet that bears his name than as a philosopher who wrote
about the magnetic variations at the poles, the hollow Earth and
the aurora borealis.
[25]The Sumerian term Kadištu can simply be translated as
“planners” and decomposed into KAD4-IŠ7-TU, lit. “the ancient
assemblers of life.” This word is comparable to the Latin
caduceus, which will be discussed in chapter 6 of Part III.
[26]The Sumerian word ŠAG4-RA or ŠÀ-AK-RA, lit. “the
heart that conducts (or floods),” has the same meaning as its
Sanskrit near-homophone chakra, “wheel.” In Indian culture, the
word chakra refers to the “ethereal” vortices in the body that act
as focal points of energy; their main function is to conduct
subtle energies throughout the human body.
[27] Elohim was the ancient Hebrew term used to refer to the
deities who created the Heavens, the Earth and the first human
being in the first Creation (Gen. 1:26); Adam appeared only in
the second Creation in Gen. 2:7. Elohim is a feminine plural
noun that means “divinities,” but it is still translated today
simply as “God.” It is only a small step from the Elohim to the
Amašutum of our story. The Hebrew term Elohim can be
decomposed according to the Gina’abul-Sumerian syllabary. In
“ancient” tongues like those of the Hebrews, Dogon, Sumerians,
etc., vowels often obeyed a system of vocal harmony. Many
Sumerian words were formed by combining syllables. Generally
speaking, if there were two same vowels in a row, then one was
left out. Since Sumerian had no “o,” the accepted practice was
to replace it with a “u,” this being the next closest sound.
Elohim becomes EL (or ÍL: elevated, to be high up), Ú
(powerful, strong), HI (mix, combine), IM (clay, mud), that is,
EL-Ú-HI-IM (the second “i” was left out in Hebrew). Thus, the
occult meaning of Elohim (EL-Ú-HI-IM) is: “the powerful from
on high who mixed clay (the earthy or clayey one, i.e. Man). In
volume 2 we will see the real meaning that the “gods” and the
ancients gave to the word “clay.”
[28] In Gnostic traditions, Prounikos represents the female
Aeon Barbélô / Sophia, coming from Above, the one who
wanted to climb the Heavens to find the ineffable Father. Unable
to reach it, she practiced self-fertilization, the fruit of which
gave the demiurge Ialdalbaôth (see Volume 0, Dream of Eternal
Time - The Book of Nuréa). The term demiurge comes from the
Greek Demiurgos “the one who creates” or “the craftsman”. It
represents in the Gnostic texts the clumsy creator who passed
himself off as the true God (the Original Source) with humanity.
[29] In various passages of the Bible, Judaic literature and
among other traditions on this planet, the “original primordial
and androgynous source” was subtly replaced by a masculine
deity called God or the Father. From this it can be deduced that
when writing appeared on Earth and the cosmogony of the
biblical texts was set down (several millennia later, starting
around 1000 B.C.), the cult of the Mother-Goddess was losing
ground—a process that has not stopped since. The increasing
acceptance of male religions in many patriarchal societies
rapidly accelerated the decline of the feminine deity of creation.
As a result, the monotheistic authors could attribute the first
creation only to God himself—a masculine entity—although
they knew perfectly well that the first creation had been the
work of several entities (the Elohim) in the service of the
Mother-Goddess, who had a master plan for the Earth.
Everything having to do with this ancient deity was grossly
distorted, demonized or eradicated. The patriarchal doctrine
according to which the feminine deity was subject to God took
the upper hand.
In Indian mythology, the primordial Divine Energy was
called Shakti, which in Sumerian becomes ŠA6-AK-TI, lit. “the
good maker of life.” Shakti was nothing more than the
representation of the Divine Mother, the Mother-Goddess, or,
more exactly, the personification of the female principle that
Hinduism rightly associated with the Holy Spirit. The feminine
Hebrew word ruah (spirit) gives a good definition of the
Mother-Goddess when it is decomposed into Gina’abul-
Sumerian. In Sumerian, the syllable RU means “gift” or
“present,” but also the fact of “restoring” and “giving something
to someone.” ÁH or AH5 means “power.” All of these attributes
apply to the Mother-Goddess, for she is the one who “restores
and delivers power.”
The Mother-Goddess demonized by the patriarchy that
dominated the Jewish religion was concealed in the figure of
Lilith. Some authors believe that Lilith is cognate with the
Hebrew word for “night,” lailah. Others think that Lilitu comes
from the Sumerian word LÍL-TI, which is generally translated
as “the spirit of life.” In the present context, I would tend to
interpret it as “she who gave the breath of life,” in the sense of
“the entity who breathed life into the primordial Man.” Judaic
imagery represents Lilith as a night bird, a symbol derived
directly from one of the most ancient attributes of the Mother-
Goddess, namely the bird or dove. This aspect of the Mother-
Goddess is also to be found in Greek Mythology, where
Eurynome, the universal and primordial goddess, changed into a
dove in order to lay the egg out of which all things came.
Incidentally, transposing this goddess’ name into Sumerian
produces either ERIN2-UM (the letter “o” does not exist in
Sumerian), “the host of midwives (crones or ancient women), or
ERIN2-UM-ME, “the host of midwives with divine decrees.”
The same idea can be found in Egyptian traditions, as in the
Pyramid Texts, which relate that the supreme androgynous deity
Atum (in Egyptian, Itemu) turned into the bird Ben to create the
air, the earth and the heavens. The womb language of the
priestesses, Emešà, which uses all the Sumero-Assyro-
Babylonian radicals, gives us some confirmations and permits
us to see things more clearly. For one thing, the name of this
deity becomes IT-EM-U, the “meteorological force,” which
attests to the creative virtues just mentioned. Her Greek name
becomes AT-UM , “the old father-woman,” which confirms
Atum’s androgyny, or at least the fact that this entity symbolized
various creative forces serving a similar cause. Lastly, the name
Ben that is attributed to this phoenix-bird becomes BÉ-EN, “the
lord who speaks.” Many traditions assimilate the creation of the
world with speech.
[30]TI-AMA-TA lit. means “mother of life.” This definition
is similar to that of TI-GEME2, “servant of life,” which is the
name used by the male Gina’abul to refer to their queen. This
name is also found in Sumerian.
[31] The decomposition of the word Uraš in Sumerian reveals
its original meaning. When a Sumerian word refers to a place or
location, it is generally prefaced by a formula meaning “the
place of…” Uraš can be decomposed into UR (man, being) and
AŠ (unique, one), which gives UR-AŠ, “the place of the unique
being.”
[32]NAM-LÚ-U18, lit. “the huge human beings.” This is one
of the terms used by the “gods” and the Sumerians to refer to
primordial humanity. It was later used for the Sumerians
because they considered themselves to have been the first to
have been created by the “gods.”
[33]The word MÁ-GA6-AN lit. means “the ship transporting
the sky.” At a later date, the Sumerians and Akkadians used this
word in the short form, MÁ-GAN, “the carrying ship,” for
vessels used to conduct sea trade as far off as Africa.
[34] Decomposed into Gina’abul Sumerian, DIR-ANNA literally means “travel
in space” or “go toward the heavens.”

[35] In fact, the atemporal vortices permit one to travel

between any two points in the universe faster than the speed of
light. These tunnels are invisible and act as bridges between the
worlds and galaxies. They vibrate at very high frequencies that
are unlike those of our three-dimensional world, or comparable
only to those in the realm of the infinitesimally small. Light is
corpuscular, that is, composed of tiny particles. The atemporal
tunnels are composed entirely of tachyons, which are
interconnected, supraluminous particles that travel faster than
light. Tachyons create subtle energy fields and compose the
“missing” mass of the universe that has always eluded the
astrophysicists (see also note 59).
It is interesting to note that the ancient Egyptians used the
same word for “door” and “star,” Seba. Decomposed into
Gina’abul-Sumerian it becomes SE-BA (or SI-BA), “the
brilliance that opens” or “that which gives (or spreads) light,” a
definition that indeed applies both to doors and to stars. Ancient
Egyptian houses had no windows, as protection against the great
heat, and so the only opening that brought light was the front
door. Sumerian homophones permit other definitions: SE-BÀ,
“the light of the living” and SE-BA7, which means “the light of
the soul,” or, again, “that which distributes light.” Gina’abul-
Sumerian definitions allow us to better understand why the
Egyptian Seba cannot be used only in the context of doors and
stars, but can also be extended to teaching and apprenticeship:
e.g. we all know that light is a metaphor for knowledge.
[36] Transpositions of Nügua and Nü Wa into Sumerian
confirm the important role of the primordial Goddess of the
Chinese legends. NU-GU-A can be translated as “She with the
rope of figurines (or images),” which spells out the mythic
theme of a rope or vine dipped into the mud to spread the
Creation. The syllable GU also refers to thread, which means
that the goddess Nügua could be identified with a spider. In
chapter 7 of part II we will see that the spider is an important
symbol in connection with the Mother-Goddess. Thanks to the
many possibilities and word-play inherent in the Sumerian
language there is a further definition of NU-GU-A simply as
“the nurse of images”; i.e. of clones. Lastly, we have NU-WA
(WA is the same as the Sumerian BA), which literally means:
“She who produces figurines (or images).”
[37] The Ubšu’ukkinna stellar system corresponds to the star
called Maia in the Pleiades and it includes 12 planets. The name
Ubšu’ukkinna is generally translated as “the assembly” or “the
place of the divine assembly.” A decomposition translates its
true meaning: UB (region, part of the universe, retreat), ŠU
(power, strength, might), UNKIN (assembly), NA (station, to be
human). In the present context, UB-ŠU-UNKIN-NA means “the
powerful part of the universe–station of the assembly.” In a
“terrestrial” context, this word can be interpreted as “the retreat
of power–the assembly of humans.” Each major city in
Mesopotamia had an Ubšu’ukkinna like that of the “gods” when
they directed human affairs. The celestial UB-ŠU-UNKIN-NA
of the Sumerians included the Dukù, which represented the
“holy mound,” the place in which the “gods” originated. The
Hopi Indians of Arizona called the celestial Ubšu’ukkinna
Toonaotakha, which they translated as the Confederation of the
Planets. This was the celestial land of 12 planets inhabited by
the spiritual guides of the Hopi tradition, the Kachinas (cf.
Blumrich, Josef: Kasskara und die sieben Welten. Die
Geschichte der Menschheit in der Überlieferung der Hopi-
Indianer. Munich, 1985). The stellar system of Toonaotakha
happened to be located in the Pleiades, which the Hopi called
the “Seven Sisters.” Interestingly enough, the word
Toonaotakha contains the Hopi root Toonao, meaning “belongs
to a group,” which is itself derived from Toonam, “group” or ”
tribal council.” Once again, it all fits together.
[38]31Hereagain, the Sumerian language provides the real
meaning of the name of this Mother-Goddess, the creator of the
human race: UM-A-I lit. means “the midwife who masters the
seminal fluid,” or MA-I, “the one who makes room and furthers
growth.”
[39] Quartz has electromagnetic properties that are used in everyday life. It is
composed of atoms arranged in regular patterns, which implies that it vibrates at a
constant frequency and that it is a perfect receptor of electromagnetic waves. In
crystalline form, it naturally contains a pure and powerful energy. It can store,
amplify, transform and transmit energy. A small quartz crystal combined with a
microcircuit amplifies electric signals. Quartz is used in microphones and all audio-
visual devices. Together with an electronic chip, this crystal permits information to be
stored in your computer’s memory. It transforms electrical charges into
electromagnetic waves and so is widely used in communications technology. The
Gina’abul and the Amašutum made abundant use of quartz in their medicine and
cloning procedures. Quartz crystals are the key to successful cloning.
[40] The Sumerian word Mušdagur means lizard. Decomposed syllabically into
MUŠ-DA-GUR4, it means “strong fattened reptile” or “powerful and splendid
reptile.” So subtle is the language of the “gods” that a same word can also be used as
an insult, as here.
 [41]The Sumerian decomposition of the word Níama into
NÍ-AMA or NÍ-AMA2 gives the following meanings: “the
power of the mother (or of warmth)” or “the power of the
master.” Both definitions imply a neutral and unisexual
conception of this universal power. It can be linked to the
Dogon term Nyama. In Mali, Nyama refers to an energy, an
impersonal substance that fills living bodies, and so it is also
considered as a vital power. The Dogon believe that Nyama is
contained in the blood and that it is transmitted by heredity.
Among the Dogon, animal sacrifices are conducted in order to
charge the altar with the Nyama of animals consecrated to the
deities and initiates.
There were comparable practices at the temple in Jerusalem
intended for Yahweh (God) himself. The animal sacrifices
practiced there were supposed to absolve the people of their
errors or promote a wish. Certain parts of the sacrificed animal
were reserved for Yahweh and the rest shared among the
officiating priests. This kind of sacrifice was called Shelamim in
Hebrew, which means “sacrifice of peace.” Decomposed into
Emešà (the “womb language” that included all Sumero-Assyro-
Babylonian particles) gives the following definition: ŠÈ
(portion), LA (wish) MÍM (same as the Sumerian MUŠ2
referring to deities and placed at the beginning of their names),
which together make ŠÈ-LA-MÍM, “the portion of the wish of
the deity (or deities).” This term emphasizes the reservations
that the “gods” had about letting human beings name them
directly or depict their form. As we have seen in the first chapter
of Part I, the particles MUŠ2, or MÍM (appearance, aspect, royal
diadem, sparkle), has a Sumerian homophone in MUŠ (reptile,
serpent This is the origin of the Judaic prohibition against
representing the appearance of Yahweh or the Elohim (deities).
More information about this and the transmission of Níama (or
the Nyama of the Dogon) by the shedding of blood will be given
in the coming volumes.
[42] The Amašutum established a matriarchal system in which the
females had the supreme power. Interestingly enough, the word
matriarchal is derived from a combination of the Latin mater (mother)
and the Greek arkhê (command). The decomposition of mater into
Sumerian gives MA-TE-ER, “who produces and establishes creation” or
“who bears and establishes the foundation.” The Sumerian particle TE
(creation, foundation) is rendered by the same archaic pictograph as the
Ú
 particle MÚL (star), two stars. This means that in remote times TE and
MÚL had a common meaning. This discovery would lead me to
translate MA-TE-ER also as “who guides and establishes the stars,”
which fits in with the planning function exercised by the Amašutum.

[43] Šan is a word in Emesal, the secret dialect of the women and priestesses of
the Paleo-Babylonian period. They used Emesal to communicate with the goddesses
and with each other. No men were allowed to use this dialect except for the Kalû
priests, who were eunuchs, The word EME-SAL means both “language of the
women” and “refined language.” This should not be confused with Emešà, which was
the “womb language” of the priestesses in the present story. Note that Emesal was to
some extent implicitly included in Emešà, since the latter—which contained all the
phonetic particles of Sumerian, Akkadian and Assyro-Babylonian—existed long
before the Sumerian language.
[44]ZÁ-HARUŠ, litt. “Secret matrix”. Name given to the
ancient large family of reptilian cloners.
[45]In Hinduism, Kundalinî (“she who makes rings”), which
is located at the genitals, separates into two subtle currents, Ida
and Pingala, which ascend in twin sinus curves, like two snakes,
along the spine. These two currents wind in opposite directions
and create a sort of ladder that passes through the seven main chakras.
This allows the adept to reach enlightenment, as well as to
approach the universal creator and his or her own inner divinity.
The decomposition of the word Kundalini into Sumerian reveals
its original deep meaning: KUN4 (ladder, stairs), DA
(powerful), LI (put in flames, shine), NÍ (body), all together
KUN4-DA-LI-NÍ, “the powerful ladder that inflames the body.”
[46] The Sanskrit name of the first of the seven chakras is
Muladhara, “the place of the root.” It is located at the lowest
spot, below the base of the spine. In the coded language of the
“gods,” this term becomes MUL-AD-HARA5, which literally
translates as “the brilliance that spreads from the cup.” Once it
has been opened, the Muladhara acts like a springboard and
facilitates the gradual opening of the higher energy centers. The
meaning of the cup will be dealt with in Part III, chapter 6, “The
Sacred Union with the Mother-Goddess.” This subject is related
to the symbol of the caduceus, an esoteric representation of
Kundalini.
[47]Mamítu and Sa’am engaged in the sacred sexuality
practiced in India and discussed in texts called the Tantras.
These texts also deal with Cosmology, Yoga and the rules of
conduct toward the Mother-Goddess. Tantrism sustains the cult
of femininity by way of esoteric and spiritual practices that
identify the nature of the Cosmos with the fine structures of the
human body. There are two Tantric paths: the mystical path,
which involves meditations that are done individually, and the
tangible path, which involves the union of the two sexes. Both
have the same purpose, which is to make sexual energy rise up
the spinal column (Kundalini) and connect the seven chakras in
order to make the practitioners attain higher levels of
consciousness. The prolonged exaltation achieved in this
manner awakens the state of absolute identity that leads to
divine enlightenment. This is marked by a beam of light that is
projected from the crown of the head. The word Tantra in
Sumerian, TÁN-TA-RÁ, can be translated as, “which brings a
luminous nature” or “which brings a free (or pure) nature.”
[48]
This is of course Ía’aldabaut, son of Barbélú, the Mother
of the Origins. See the Volume 0 of Chronicles, Dream of
Eternal Time - The Book of Nuréa.
[49] Sukkal is the Sumerian word for “messenger.” The Sukkal belonged to the
Kadištu. According to Sumerian and Assyro-Babylonian traditions, the Sukkal were
beings of the humanoid type with great bird wings on their back. It is interesting to
note that the Greek word Anggelos (angel) also means messenger, and that the Sukkal
played the same role as the angels of the Bible, such as watching over the trees of
“Paradise.”
[50]Note that in Sanskrit the words love and desire are both
expressed by the term Kama. Transposed into Sumerian, this
becomes KA-MA, which literally means “the witness of
attachment” or KÁM-A (or KAM2-A), which can be translated
into “the source of the embrace (or desire).”
[51]In Sumerian, the names Mami, Mamí or Mama clearly
allude to the mother. They are regularly found on tablets and
refer each time to the Mother-Goddess, the Mother of the Earth
or the goddess of Fertility.
[52] KI-ZÀH (“the secret place”) is a Sumerian term that
clearly recalls the meaning of the Kiva of the Hopi Indians.
Indeed, the Kiva is the “place of ceremonies” in which the Hopi
practiced their secret rituals. Transposed into Sumerian as KI-
WA, the true meaning of the word is “the place of offering,” that
is, the place where cults are practiced or worshipped.
 [53] The Sumerian term DIĞIR, also spelled DINGIR
“deity(ies),” was written with an archaic pictograph representing
a star, which suggests the heavenly origin of the DIĞIR
(DINGIR). If this word is decomposed into two separate
syllables, DIN-GIR, each of which is a word in itself, the
meaning becomes “the cows of the intermediary ages and of
life.” The homophonic variations DIN-GIR11 and DIN-GIR15
respectively mean “the skilful ones of life” and “the noble ones
of life.” Among the Mesopotamians and Egyptians, gods and
goddesses were identified with “Heavenly Cows” and ”
Heavenly Bulls.” The fact that the DIĞIR were associated with
the “makers of life” speaks for an association— of some of
them, at least—with the Elohim of the Hebrews, as mentioned
in Part I, chapter 3. It is noteworthy that the Sumerian term used
for the Creation is ŠÀ-ÁB, lit. “the womb of the Cows,” which
again assimilates a feminine principle with the creation of the
world. The Akkadian equivalent of DIĞIR is ilu, which is
etymologically related to the “El” of the Bible. Its
decomposition into Sumerian syllables, ÍL-U4, literally means
“who transport themselves in time” (as we have seen, through
the star gates), or, as IL5-U4, “who rise like the light of day.”
[54] The trees of the Judeo-Christian Garden of Eden can
also be explained by the Sumerian language. Here is some
additional information on the terms used in the text: the
decomposition of ĞIŠ into ĞI6-IŠ gives us ĞI6 (dark, night,
being dark) and IŠ (mountain, mountain in the sense of star,
burning, ardent). Considering the fact that there were several
trees in the Garden of Eden, this term can be put in the plural
form and translated as the “Dark Stars,” or the “Dark and
Ardent Ones.” The homophonic variation ĞI6-IŠ7 provides
another possibility: the “Ancient Dark Ones.”
The Gina’abul/Anunna (the “gods” of the Sumerians) and
the Sumerians themselves customarily used the terms mountain
and hillock as poetic evocations of places in the heavens, that
is, stars and planets. By means of the atemporal vortices, which
permitted them to travel easily between remote destinations, the
places in the heavens were as easy to reach as mountains or
mere hills. It is no coincidence that the syllable IŠ permits the
association between the noun mountain and the adjectives
ardent and burning. This fact allows us to associate the word
“tree” with entities that are qualified as being “dark,” who take
care of stars and seem to be endowed with a special energy. This
is exactly the same idea found in Elohim, the architect of the
first Creation, which we have associated—as a plural—with the
celestial planners working in the service of the Original Source
and its representative in the Solar System and on Earth:
Tiamata, the primordial Goddess, seconded by her daughter
Nammu. As creators of the world, the Elohim priestesses indeed
took care of the stars and were endowed with a life-giving
energy.
[55] In the language of the “gods,” the word AMA (mother)
is synonymous with warmth through its Akkadian equivalent
Ummu, which means both mother and warmth. The homonym
AMA2 means power and strength! It is noteworthy that the
word AMA (mother) was represented by a sign in the form of a
stele with a star on it. This star sign was also used to represent
the words MUL (“star”) and DIĞIR, or DINGIR (“deity,”
“god,” see fig. below). From the remotest antiquity, steles or
raised stones were used to symbolize celestial deities. The
ancient Hebrews worshipped Elohim in the form of sacred
stones called maççebôt. The Canaanite goddess Ashera (lit.
“sacred stake” or “sacred tree”) was venerated in the same
manner and the Greek goddess Cybele, creator of the human
species, was worshipped in the form of a black rock. Yahweh
and Zeus were also symbolized by sacred steles. There are
countless examples of this in traditions throughout the world.
Note that the Egyptian noun Udj means both stele and raised
stone, as well as order, decree and the verb to order.
[56]The spider symbol is found in many parts of the world
where it appears as that of the Mother Goddess. In Sumerian,
the particle PEŠ5 (spider) is multiple. Its homophone PEŠ
means “uterus”, “bowels”, “precious” and its other homophone
PÈŠ was used to name a fig or a fig tree. The last two clearly
evoke the female sex, so it is not strange to find them in
connection with the term spider. Especially since, in verbal
form, PEŠ4 and PEŠ13 mean: “to conceive” and “to be
pregnant”. Another notable fact, PEŠ5 (spider) also evokes “A
deep breath”, which is not without recalling the Sumerian LÍL-
TI (the Hebrew Lilith), which translates into “the one who gives
the breath of life”, in the meaning of “entity which breathes life
into humanity”. African traditions from the lands of Ghana give
the spider the name Ananse. She is the one who prepared the
raw material that was used to create humanity. The Ananse
spider of West Africa is also the primordial deity who
transformed into a bird (symbol of the Holy Spirit of
Christianity and of the “demonized” Lilith) in order to create the
universe by separating day and night, the Heaven and Earth. Let
us also add that the traditions of the Babingas, the Pygmoid of
Central Congo, report that the first Pygmy was created by a
spider, the first woman. Among the Hopi Indians of Arizona, a
female deity named Kohkyangwwuhti, Spider-Mother, created
plants, animals, and the first humanity. The Hopi language, like
all the ancient languages of the Earth, is codified in Gina’abul.
In Proto-Sumerian Kohkyangwwuhti gives KÙ-KI-AN-GU7-
ÚH-TI “Holy of Heaven and Earth, nurse with vivifying saliva”.
It is precisely from her saliva, assimilated to a wisdom-creative
substance, that the Spider-Mother of the Hopis created
humanity.
[48]Inthe first two French editions of this book there was a
long note here on the subject of the tree and the fruit. This
information has been moved to the end of the present volume in
the section titled “The Mythological Meaning of the Tree”.
[57] The word Rasa is a Sanskrit term that refers to the fluids
secreted by a woman during sexual intercourse, but its
decomposition into the Sumerian RA-SA7, “the lovely flow” or
“the pleasant flow,” brings us closer to its original meaning.
Similarly, the Sanskrit term Raiaš, which refers to the menses,
can be decomposed into RA-I-AŠ5, “the flow that germinates in
the spider,” or RA-I-AŠ, “the flow that germinates in the unique
one (i.e. the woman).” Its Sumerian-Gina’abul origin is
unquestionable.
[58] The ancient Amašutum line produced eggs.
Interestingly enough, the Sumerian words MUNUS and
NUNUS can mean “eggs,” “female” or “woman.” When did
women ever lay eggs, if not among the Gina’abul?
[59] This is indeed the case if UNIR is pronounced U -NIR “the high flash (or
4
that culminates),” with the particle U4 instead of U6-NIR, “the high gaze (or, that
culminates).”
[60] The GI is a Gina’abul unit of length that was also used by the Sumerians: 1
GI = ca. ten feet (six cubits).

[61]The terminology and wording used in this chapter is

based on the Babylonian creation epos called Enûma Eliš.
However, the translation of the different names of the Mardukù
does not follow the Assyro-Babylonian logic, but that of Emešà.
Their definition will therefore differ from those generally
accepted by Assyriologists. Unlike in our story, in which the 50
names refer to a legal text, the Enûma Eliš lists and assigns
these 50 names to a certain “god” called Marduk, creator of the
Heavens and the Earth. The contexts might seem to be different,
but this intentional divergence will be explained in the second
volume and the Marduk “unmasked.”
[62] We will see at a later point that the coiled serpent is one
of the great symbols of feminine power and of the mother-
goddess.
[63]
Regarding waterbending and its resulting energy, see
Dream of Eternal Time - The Book of Nuréa (Volume 0 of
Chronicles),
[64] Ádam is a Gina’abul word that can also found in the
Sumerian Á-DAM (lit. “beasts, animals, herds””) and that
corresponds to the Akkadian Nammaššu. This information was
jealously guarded by a highly organized elite and explains many
enigmatic aspects of the myth of Genesis. This explosive topic
will be discussed in more detail in the second volume.
[65] Mulge (“the black star“) is the sacred planet of the
Amašutum and the Kadištu in the Ti-ama-te system (our Solar
System), as well as a lost planet that once had its orbit between
Mars and Jupiter. Mulge’s orbit ran in the opposite direction to
those of the other planets and acted as a sort of border between
the four warm inner planets (Mercury, the Earth, Mars, and
Venus, which was a moon of Mulge at the time) and the colder
outer planets: Jupiter, Saturn, etc.
[66] The black star SAG-ME-ĞAR (“depository of the head
of the ME“) was also called Neberu in Babylonian.
[67]
Like all the other planets, the Earth teems with tiny
“black holes.” A.P. Trofimeko, a member of the Russian
Academy of Astronomers and Geodesics in Minsk wrote about
this hidden mass in the journal Astrophysics and Space Science
(vol.168) and other publications (see
http://blackholes.narod.ru/eng/physics_eng.htm). Nearly 90% of
the mass of the universe is made up of invisible matter that
eludes scientific detection. Unofficially, this mass is thought to
be composed of fields of high-energy particles called tachyons
(from the Gr. tachus, i.e. “fast”). The vibrational frequency of a
tachyon yields an electric potential of from about 7 to 8 million
volts per cubic centimeter. The tachyon fields do not belong to
the electromagnetic spectrum. Much has been written about the
tachyons in the scientific literature and there is a widespread
opinion that all of the particles in the universe are nothing but
tachyons of reduced velocity, i.e. of low energy. This would
make the tachyon the element that unites all the forces in the
universe.
[68]
The rainbow motif exists in many traditions and always
symbolizes the same kinds of things:
- Among the Dogon of Mali, Nommo die (“the great
Nommo”), the genie of Creation, uses rainbows to travel, and so
they are called Nommo sizu (“Nommo’s Path”).
- Among the pygmies of Equatorial Africa, the rainbow
(Khwa, or Wango in Sandeh) was the first means that God used
to descend among Mankind.
- In Japan, the god Izanagi and goddess Izanami, born of the
7th generation of celestial gods, came down to the Earth using a
rainbow.
- In the Scandinavian mythological saga, the Edda, the gods
built a bridge to join heaven and Earth. This rainbow bridge was
called Bifrost or Baeefroest. According to the same tradition, the
Nordic gods called Ases descended to Earth on colored bands,
which is why the rainbow is also known as the Bridge of the
Ases.
- Ancient Columbian traditions claim that the god Bochica
appeared to the inhabitants of the city of Soacha astride a
rainbow.
- Among the Australian Aborigines, the great Serpent of the
sky and the higher celestial spheres is called Ularu, the
“Rainbow Serpent.” This is his name because his travels are
always manifested by a rainbow. The Rainbow Serpent belongs
to the mythology of all the Aborigine tribes of Australia.
- The Bible also clearly mentions the role of the rainbow in
Genesis 9:13, which says: “I [Yahweh] do set my bow in the
cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and
the earth.” Lastly, note that the Sumerian word for rainbow is
Tiranna. This is reminiscent of the Diranna (star gates) used by
the Gina’abul and planners in the story.
[69] The same word exists among the Dogon of Mali, but in
the form of Mimínu, which means “ant.”
[70] The Sumerian MU means “name.” In ancient times,
having a vessel able to travel fast from place to place was
equivalent to having a NAME. This is not unlike our world
today, where those without a car or credit cards do not amount
to much in the eyes of society. Having a Name (vehicle) has
been a status symbol since the highest antiquity. Only the
“gods,” kings and princes directly affiliated with the deities of
the heavens and some privileged humans had the right to have
“Names” on Earth.
Many Sumerian words were composed by the juxtaposition
of syllables drawn from Emešà (womb language). Generally
speaking, when there were two identical vowels, the second was
dropped. Thanks to the phonetics of the Sumerian syllabary the
original meaning of the word MU will reappear as if by magic.
Choosing a combination using MÚ—also rendered as MUD6 (to
catch fire, inflame, blaze)—and U5 (to travel, rise, raise), the
Sumerian MU decomposes into MÚ-U5, which means “that
which blazes and rises (or travels).”
The Akkadian word Šumu also means “name.” Decomposed
into ŠÚM-U5, ŠÚM (to procure, give) and U5 (to travel, rise,
raise oneself), we get “that which procures the fact of traveling
(or raising oneself).” This transcription into Sumerian syllables
proves that the Akkadian Šumu was also a flying object that was
used for travel.
The Hebrew word for “name” is Šem and supposed to have
been derived from the Akkadian Šumu, which is the equivalent
of the Sumerian Mu. Using the same method of combining
Sumerian syllables, we get ŠE6 (to catch fire, to heat) and EM
or IM (wind, breath, storm, clouds). Together, ŠE6-EM can be
translated as “the breath or storm that catches fire,” which again
evokes an object that spits fire and moves as fast as the wind.
The Egyptian word for “name” is REN. Since one of the two
vowels disappeared, in Sumerian it combines RE7 (to drive,
bring, carry) and EN (lord, noble), or RE7-EN, lit. “that which
brings (or drives) the lord(s).”
[71] The Sumerian word Santana (or Šandan) refers to those
working with trees and plants, such as gardeners, herbalists and
planters. We will go into the details of this terminology in the
second volume and show that it is closely linked with the name
Satan. The resulting definition will elucidate the myth of
Genesis and the notions of Good and Evil that were deliberately
distorted by the dominant patriarchal religion.
[72] KI is the three-dimensional universe, or the third one
starting from the bottom.
[73] The Bambara healers in Mali, Africa, are acquainted
with the instruments that the descendants of the Gina’abul still
use to reach the human dimension. The healers use small objects
that make sounds and work according to the same principle.
These objects are often given to them by a reptilian creature and
help them to create an opening to the lower dimensions, so that
they can come into contact with a Gina’abul. The Malians call
this reptilian race Jiné, a word from which the English word
“genius” was derived. Jiné is supposed to come from the
Arabian Djinn, a term that refers to a fearful type of demon.
The Djinn, or the “hidden ones,” are generally believed to
descend from ancient peoples that have vanished. The Arabian
tradition is similar to that of the Malians and does not consider
the Djinn as pure spirits, but as very real occult forces. The
Djinn act as intermediaries and can make themselves visible or
invisible at will. They usually appear in the form of a snake or
lizard. In Mali, it is believed that a person who encounters a
Gina’abul in its real form can become insane. In his book,
“Folies, Mythes et Magies d’Afrique Noire” (1988), Christine
Bastien notes that this illness is very much like a prolonged fit
of epilepsy, which has also been called the “bush malady.”
Every Malian child learns very early on the places that are
frequented by the Djinn in the bush, so as to avoid them. Malian
tradition has it that if someone were to come across a reptilian
and see it go through the hot space created by its appearance,
they would go mad with terror and be knocked out by the
burning heat given off by the interdimensional opening. They
can be treated only by healers who know the secrets of the Jiné:
Malian healers have often been abducted and taken to the lower
dimensions inhabited by the Gina’abul in order to receive
teachings. We will often have occasion to point out the influence
that the language of the Gina’abul has had on most of the
languages on our planet, but it is interesting to note that the
word Jiné refers to something very precise on the African
continent. After many vicissitudes leading up to the
establishment of some Gina’abul on Earth (as told in vol. 2), the
latter created the ancient languages on Earth and made sure to
encode them, something we will discuss in detail later. The
languages of Africa are no exception to this rule. In Gina’abul
(or Sumerian, to us), Jiné is spelled Hiné: there is no “j” in
Gina’abul-Sumerian and the word has been altered in the course
of time. Decomposed, we get HI (mix, blend) and NÈ (power,
fear, splendor), or HI-NÈ: “that which mixes power and fear,”
an apt description of how humanity has always regarded the
reptilian race whose story we are revealing here.
[74]Similar to the imagery of Hell and the Afterworld
disseminated by the Judaeo-Christian religions.
[75]This term is often found on Sumerian clay tablets, which
give a paltry and ridiculous account of the history of the
Gina’abul. Specialists give the word KUR different meanings,
such as “lower world,” “hell,” “land,” “mountainous country,”
“mountain” or “foreign land.” The definition of KUR is difficult
for scholars of the Near East to establish for the simple reason
that they do not conceive of the world as being composed of
interconnected dimensions. In Sumerian mythology, the word
KUR is often used to refer to “hilly country” or “rebellious
regions.” From the extant clay tablets, it is clear that the KUR is
a transitional place between Heaven and Earth, a secret place
inhabited by the “gods” without the knowledge of humans. The
spherical objects mentioned above are called Gúrkur by the
Gina’abul, which literally means the “sphere of the KUR.”
Pronounced Gùrkur, it can be translated as “that which
transports to the KUR.”
[76] To be perfectly exact, it should be said that the KUR
dimension is subdivided into two parts: the KUR-BALA (the
first and lowest dimension), which specialists often translate as
the “Beyond” or “Afterworld,” but which really means “the
KUR of the reign (or the dynasty).” The second part is the
KUR-GAL (the second dimension), in other words “the great
KUR,” a parallel world in which certain Gina’abul will establish
themselves on the planet Earth. There, the KUR-BALA
dimension will be the source of much conflict among the
Gina’abul, for whoever has the power in the KUR-BALA
necessarily becomes master of the other two dimensions, the
KUR-GAL and the KI. The ruler of the KUR-BALA is literally
called the “eye that sees all, atop the pyramid… inverted,” for
he has a direct view of the KUR-GAL and the KI! This is why
the word KUR (or KUR-BALA) on the tablets is often
translated as “in the world of the enemy,” the place where chaos
seems to rule perpetually. The first three dimensions form a sort
of upside-down pyramid in which the KI dimension is the base
and the KUR-BALA the top. From there, one can see the higher
dimensions as if through a magnifying glass.
As far as the idea of a land situated in a realm imperceptible
to human beings is concerned, it is important to point out that,
on the Sumerian clay tablets, the verbs that express movement
into or out of the KUR are E11, which means “to descend,
climb, go out of, go to,” and U5, which means “to travel or
navigate” to the KUR. This fact supports the idea of a land that
is foreign to the human dimension (KI), to which the Anunna-
Gina’abul could travel with the help of a Gúrkur, or using
spacecraft like those of the Kadištu on Dukù. In the second
volume of this series, we will often have occasion to mention
another Kur (written in lower-case to distinguish it from the
KUR) that which can be translated as “mountain” and “high
plateaus.” This place, also called Dukug, is the mountain on
which the Celestial Bestiary established itself on the edge of the
Mesopotamian plain. The only common point between the KUR
and the Kur worth mentioning for now is that both places were
considered as mountains, or natural pyramids, by the Gina’abul
and the Sumerians, who used it as a vantage point to observe
what was happening in the world.
The KUR is beyond the visible world and is a place to which
the Gina’abul-Anunna constantly return, for it is filled with life
and light. What scholars of the clay tablets have not fully
understood is that each time that a Sumerian god—that is, an
Anunna—traveled to the earthly KUR, he could do so by
ascending, descending or exiting. This lends credence to the fact
that the Sumerians located the KUR beneath the world
perceptible to human beings, i.e. below, and this has inspired
specialists to equate it with the Judeo-Christian Hell. The
ideology of the Gina’abul and the Sumerians does not integrate
the notion of Hell in the same way as the Western civilizations
have. According to Gina’abul terminology, the lower levels that
constitute the KUR and the KI dimensions are called the
KIGAL, “the great world.” This world is opposed to the other
higher dimensional realms in which the Kadištu live and that is
called ANGAL, “the great heavens.” Note the similarity
between the Sumerian term Angal (Great Heavens) and the
English word Angel.
[77]They look like gargoyles that haunt the eaves of our
churches and cathedrals.
[78] Egyptian manuscripts and Mesopotamian clay tablets
clearly mention that the goddesses of Ancient Egypt and
Mesopotamia—in their role as Celestial Cows—transmitted
their powers and divinity to kings through sexual relations. The
king was summoned to share the goddess’ vital force in the
sacred nuptial bed in which he gained immortality and became
the “Bull of the Heavens.” Similarly, the high priestesses of
Antiquity, as earthly incarnations of the Mother-Goddess,
practiced the hieros gamos, the sacred marriage. They chose a
lover considered to be the son of the Mother-Goddess and
practiced “sacred sexual union” with him. After the ritual, the
man was transformed into the goddess’ spouse and invested
with royal powers. Such rites were practiced in Classical
Greece, as well as in Egypt and Sumeria.
[79]The theme of the transmission of the “supernatural”
powers of heavenly deities through sexual union appears in a
great many traditions. For example, in chapter 6 of the Book of
Genesis, God decides to shorten the life of humanity by 120
years because the “angels” had had relations with human beings
without his permission. The same idea can be found in the
Hittite legend of Hupasiya, a mortal who was given the task of
slaying an evil dragon. In order to make him equal to the task,
the goddess Inara had sexual relations with him and transmitted
some of her divinity to him. Once his mission was
accomplished, Inara forced Hupasiya to distance himself from
the world of humans, especially from his family, for fear that he
might transmit his divine powers to his wife, who might
transmit them further to her children when she nursed them.
Hupasiya disobeyed and tried to flee his gilded cage, obliging
Inara to eliminate him
[80] Note the strange similarity between the Sumerian word
SIR4 (or ŠIR), which means testicles—the symbol of virility par
excellence—and the English word Sir, which was once an
honorable title reserved for “men of good family” or “good
extraction.” This word is found throughout Europe in the form
of Sire, which was used to address lords, kings and emperors. It
is not surprising, then, to see that the homophonic Sumerian
verb ŠÌR means “to decide, to oblige.” Used for a human being,
the Sumerian ŠÌR would mean, “he who decides or obliges.”
Better still, the words SIR and ŠIR10 refer to a serpent or a
dragon, thus revealing a close link between royalty and the
reptilian world. Finally, the abovementioned ŠIR also means
light and fire in Sumerian. In many traditions throughout the
world, including the civilizations of Egypt, Mesopotamia and
the Americas, the kings represented the light of the sun, for they
were the incarnations of the “gods” on Earth. Sumerian
literature is replete with reptilian terms. For example, there is
NIR-GAL-BÚR, which refers to a family of lizards unknown to
today’s Sumerian specialists. This word can be literally
translated as the “great prince with scales.” In ancient times, the
“grand princes without scales” formed royal families descended
from the gods and who governed humanity in their name.
In spite of the prohibition of rendering the likeness of the
“gods,” the Obeid period (between 6500-3700 BC), which
preceded the Sumerian civilization, is characterized by the many
terracotta figurines found in tombs that represent male and
female deities with obvious reptilian features. These ca. 15 cm-
tall idols were found at Obeid sites in cities like Eridu, Ur,
Choga Mami, Samarra, and Uquair.
[81] Soma is a Sanskrit word that refers to the Moon and to a
mythic plant used to make the nectar of immortality for the
Aryan gods. Knowledge of the ingredients that composed the
Soma has been lost. In ancient times, the heroes of the Vedas
drank only a substitute that was prepared on Earth; the real
elixir was intended only for the gods of the Heavens.
[82] Reminder: Nammu symbolizes Barbélú in the material
world of the Gina’abul, she is her divine representative. Barbélú
was a sacred term used by the esoteric Gnostic schools that were
opposed to the early Christians. It is written Barbèlô or Barbîlô
in many Gnostic scrolls and refers to the primordial feminine
deity, the Celestial Mother, the Mother of all beings and forms,
also called Sophia (Wisdom) by some Gnostic sects. Whether
she is called by these names, or Ennoia (Thought), all the
Gnostic schools agreed that she knew the “real God,” that she
was the soul of Creation, the virgin and active spirit through
which God had created Heaven and Earth. The Gnostics
associated her clearly with the Holy Spirit and the female ruler
of the world, who was later subdivided into a lower and a higher
feminine entity.
The etymology of Barbèlô remains unclear, but some authors
think that it is of Iranian origin because the word can be found
in the Gnostic text titled “Zostrian,” which is the name of a
disciple of the Mazdean prophet Zoroaster. However, its
decomposition into Gina’abul-Sumerian helps to solve the
puzzle: BAR (soul, spirit, stranger), BÉ or BI (to talk, to
communicate) and LÚ (man, human being) together make up
BAR-BÉ-LÚ, “the soul or spirit that communicates with the
human being.” This corresponds to the role of Barbèlô/Sophia
as creator of the first humanity on Earth and spirit of the “true
God.” There is an interesting and complementary homophone:
BÁR (throne, sovereign, ruler), which gives BÁR-BÉ-LÚ, “she
of the throne who communicates with human beings” or “the
woman sovereign who communicates with human beings.”
[83] Many Vedic texts allude to the transformation of gods
and kings, whereby the latter literally shed their old skins in
order to regenerate and achieve a victory over death and aging:
“The Serpents conquered Death; whosoever follows the same
path will conquer Death. In this way they disposed of their old
skin and moved by creeping, thus they did away with Death and
conquered it. The Serpents are the Adityas” (Pancavimsha
Brâhmana 25, 15-4). According to Hindu belief, the Adityas
dwell in the heavens and represent the sovereign principles that
govern humanity and the universe.
[84]Amrašušita, called Amrachushita in Sanskrit, is a term
used in the Kama-Sutra for a certain type of fellatio. Its
decomposition into AM-RA-ŠU-ŠITA2 gives “the power that
moves and deploys the mass.”
[85]This Sanskrit term can also be found in the Kama-Sutra,
where it is used to name one of the many ways of performing
cunnilingus. Its decomposition into Gina’abul-Sumerian gives
ŠU-ŠITA3“control of the slit.”
[86]A further practice from the Kama-Sutra related to
cunnilingus. The decomposition of Uchshushita into UŠ7-ŠU-
ŠITA4 means : “concentrating the power of the secretions.”
[87]Yet another sexual practice from the Kama-Sutra
involving cunnilingus. Kshobhaka consists of collecting the
nectar that flows out of the vaginal opening. Its decomposition
gives KÚ-ŠUB6-HÁ-AKA, “to lick (or kiss) and swallow in
abundance.”
[88]In today’s human beings the chakras are mostly in a
dormant state.
[89] The union described here stems from the Tantric
practices of India, which use as model the divine couple formed
by the two principles considered as a duality. Through the
sacred postures recommended by the Tantric texts, sexual union
suspends the law of duality and culminates in an ecstatic and
transforming openness. The ritual sexual postures arouse the
subtle energy circuits of the body. The purpose of giving
pleasure to the woman—the vessel of sacred energy—is to
increase her spiritual essence, and therefore that of the man.
Similar ideas can be found among the Chinese Taoists, for
whom sex was a sort of medicine to treat the ills of the body and
the spirit, and even to gain immortality.
 The symbol of the caduceus has often been
misinterpreted, for it represents in fact Kundalini and the sacred
sexuality of the Mother-Goddess. The caduceus is generally
depicted as a staff (or vertical axis) topped by a pair of wings
and with two intertwined serpents. This powerful symbol can be
found in many different forms throughout the world. All display
one or more of the original elements of the hypothetically
complete version, which, as far as I know, has never been found
in this form. The complete version should include: a cup or vase
at the bottom, which is also found in the insignia of the medical
profession. Then there is a central axis around which two
serpents intertwine, crossing seven times and facing each other
at the top. Finally, there should be a pair of wings to crown the
whole. The allegorical meaning of this emblem is very precise.
The caduceus is used today as an emblem of the medical
profession and features the serpent of Asklepios, the Greek god
of health and medicine. The latter was killed by Zeus, but then
restored to life and became a promoter of remedies to restore
health. In esoteric circles, the caduceus is the symbol of the
original androgyne; the intertwined serpents representing both
the Fall and the Ascent into Heaven. The word caduceus can be
linked to the planners serving the Original Source, the Kadištu,
or KAD4-IŠ7-TU, lit. “the ancients who hold life.” The Kadištu
in our account were experts in planning and possessed perfect
mastery of KUN4-DA-LI-NÍ, “the powerful ladder that inflames
the body.”
[90]The Sanskrit term Muladhara means “the place of the
root.” The Sumerian decomposition of the first chakra, MUL-
AD-HARA5, can be translated as “the brilliance that spreads in
the cup,” which takes on its full meaning here. It is from there
that the sacred fluid—through the “mystical” (meditative) or
“tangible” (sexual) paths—will be inspired to rise and spark the
other chakras into activity, or descend “physically” to emerge
from the body. In the Sanskrit text titled Sat-cakra-nirûpana
(chap. 6), the Muladhara is compared to the “region in which
the nectar flows.”
[91]This term can be compared with the seated Tantric
posture called Sukhâsana, lit. “the posture of happiness.” This
position is recommended because it facilitates control of the
flow of semen. In Sumero-Akkadian, SUG-HÁŠ-ANNA is
translated as “the flood of the belly to the sky.”
[92]The Sanskrit name for the second chakra Swadhisthana,
lit. “the seat of the self.” In its Gina’abul-Sumerian form, this
chakra is called Šàdištana, or ŠÀ-DIŠ-TA-NA8, “the unique one
of the entrails able to irrigate.” This vortex channels desire,
sexuality, feelings, etc. If it is blocked, the sensuality of the
body will be disrupted.
[93]Manipura, “the town of the stones,” is the name of the
third chakra. In Gina’abul-Sumerian, this becomes Manipúra,
MAN-I7-PÚ-RA, “the companion—river of the depths that
agitate.” This chakra is the seat of the ego, anger and
magnetism.
[94]Anahata, “the struck negation,” is the name of the fourth
chakra. In Sumerian-Gina’abul this can be decomposed into
AN-ÁH-A5-TA, which means “the superior force that
establishes character.”
[95]The fifth chakra is called Vishuddha, “the great
purification,” and can be decomposed into HI-ŠUD-HÁ, “he
who combines the many invocations.”
[96]Ajnais the center of the Third Eye. Decomposed into
ÁH-NA4, it means “the mark of the force.”
[97]The Sahasrara is the last of the seven chakras and is
located at the crown of the head. Its decomposition into
Gina’abul-Sumerian gives SA6-HAŠ-RA-RA, lit. “the favorable
one who dismembers and enlarges.”
[98]Lit. “holy sword” in Sumerian.
[99]Reminder: the KUR and KI dimensions together
comprise the lower level, called KIGAL, “the great world.” This
realm is opposed to ANGAL, “the great heavens,” which
includes the upper dimensional levels in which the Kadištu live
(cf. part III, chapter 2).
[100]Reminder: Gúrkur (lit. “the sphere of the KUR,” also
pronounced Gùrkur, “that which transports to the KUR”) is
generally a spherical and metallic instrument that emits various
frequencies and permits travel in the two lower dimensions of
the KUR, as well as in the third, called KI. The Gina’abul
Gúrkur all have a small crystal embedded in them.
[101]We have already mentioned the qualities of quartz in the
second part of chapter 1, including the fact that quartz crystals
are often used in communications technology. They are
practically the only crystals with physical and chemical
properties that make them useful as measures of frequency for
modern industry. If quartz crystals are calibrated at a certain
frequency, then messages can be transmitted to other crystals of
the same frequency. It is the same principle in the dimensions in
which quartz is used as a “tuning fork” to travel between the
different dimensions. Amerindian shamans used various quartz
and rock crystals to contact the spirits, perform divination and
heal.
[102]In Sumerian, the word Ğír not only means sword and
dagger but also flash of light. This forces us to introduce another
definition of the term Ğírkù: “the holy flash of light.” We might
add that this crystal can also focus light, and so is used in lasers
in the fields of medicine and armament. When it is subjected to
pressure or heat (the phenomenon of piezoelectricity), the
crystal can acquire an electrical charge; here, this is done
through the Níama.
[103]The constellation of the Hyades is the sacred region in
which the royal Amašutum settled after the Great War, since An
and Anšár had taken Mulmul over with their allies, the Mìmínu.
The usual interpretation of the Sumerian word ĞIŠ-DA is
“confederation,” but it can be decomposed into ĞIŠ (Tree, Dark
of the Stars, scepter) and DA (powerful, to protect). This can be
interpreted as “the powerful place of the Dark Stars,” “the place
that protects the Dark Stars,” “the place of the powerful
scepter.” It is interesting to note that there is another Sumerian
word for the Hyades, AGA-ANNA, which means “the crown of
the heavens,” which adds a further royal register to this
constellation.
[104]KUR-BALA is the first dimension the lowest one
included in KIGAL.
[105]Mamítu-Nammu-Damkina and Sa’am-Nudímmud are
related to the Abgal lineage of the Gagsisá (Sirius) System.
 [106] The clone jointly created by Ninmah and Enlíl,
commander of the Anunna army hidden in the Abzu of the
planet Éšárra.
[107] I have explained several times, particularly in
interviews, that I have no direct evidence for the “hollow
planet” thesis. I translate in the Chronicles my “extraterrestrial”
visions, sometimes difficult to comment in a rational way, with
our notions and our human language, both limited. Even if
strange phenomena appear regularly at the level of the poles of
the planets of our Solar System, it is also possible to consider
that the Gina’abul simply had bases in large planetary cavities
that they illuminated with large luminous spheres in suspension,
without necessarily going through the thesis of hollow planet.
That’s an hard topic.
[108]A Gina’abul unit of length used by the Sumerians: 1
Kùš = ca. 20 in.
[109] The ancient practice of deforming skulls was not
uncommon and supposed to imitate the appearance of the
“gods.” It can be found among the Aymara tribes on Lake
Titicaca and the ancient Maya. In 1897, human skulls with an
elongated cranium were exhumed at the site of ancient
cemeteries in Abydos (Upper Egypt). Depictions of this
particularity can also be found in predynastic Egyptian statues
and reliefs (for example, the depictions of the daughters of
Akhenaton, 18th dynasty). In the American Anthropologist, 35
1933, the eminent archaeologist Henry Field reported the
discovery of Sumerian tombs at Kish and Djemdet Nasr in
which human skeletons with abnormally long skulls similar to
those from predynastic Egypt had been unearthed. Terracotta
figurines excavated at Choga Mami, near the Zagros Mountains
in Iraq, also featured unusually elongated heads. A large number
of Mesopotamian figures of this kind have been discovered. In
his book Atlantis (Harper & Bros. NY, 1882) Ignatius Donnelly
treated this subject, citing Hippocrates (De Aeris, Aquis et Locis,
Book 4) and claiming that the Scythians performed this
deformation for the sake of distinction. He mentioned other
peoples with artificially deformed skulls such as the Turks of
the Urals, the Caledonians and the Scandinavians. Donnelly
added that the custom of carrying newborn babies bound to long
boards was widespread in the British Isles and in Northern
Europe. The author concluded: “We are faced with an
extraordinary and abnormal practice that existed on both sides
of the Atlantic in the most ancient times, and that is still being
practiced among peoples living very far away from one
another… We may conclude from this that the artificial
flattening of the skull practiced in the Ancient and New Worlds
was an attempt to imitate the cranial characteristics of a
population, the original type of which is depicted on the
monuments of Egypt and in the Americas.” Similar practices
were also widespread in Polynesia, Africa and Asia.
[110] KI is also the dimension in which the human race lives.
[111]The Gina’abul-Sumerian word BUN2 or BÚN means
both “bright light” and “rebellion.” The choice of this term to
name the star Aldebaran (Alpha Tauri) is easy to understand
when we know that this red giant has a relative magnitude of 1.
Ušumgal like An and Anšár considered the Ameli as traitors or
rebels because they did not allow the Gina’abul to settle near
Bun in the aftermath of the Great War.
[112]Contrary to Judeo-Christian ideology, according to
which “Hell” is a place of eternal suffering, Greco-Roman
thought rightly considered this place to be a transitional realm
for souls in the process of reincarnation.
[113]We might point out that Sa’am and one of the two
Kadištu belong to the Abgal, an amphibian species related to the
Gina’abul and living in the solar system of Gagsisá (Sirius). The
expression GÍLIM-ANNA, “Celestial Bestiary,” comes from the
Kadištu. It can be decomposed into GÍLIM (group or horde of
wild animals) and ANNA (the heavens). It is interesting to note
that the Sumerian homophone GILIM refers to the fact of
“being corrupt.” GÍLIM-ANNA expresses both the animality of
the Gina’abul race (physically and behaviorally) and its
relationship to the stars, as the species that mastered space
travel.
[114] The Santana (plantation directors) and Šandan
(arboriculturists, horticulturists, herbalists) are the gardeners of
the Gina’abul. There will be more information about the
SANTANA / ŠANDAN in the next volume. For now, I would
just point out the similarity between the Spanish word Santa
(fem. saint) and the Sumerian Santana. In the “womb language”
of the Amašutum, Emešà, ŠAN-TÀ means “the queen (or
mistress) of creation” while ŠAN-TÁ means “the queen of the
power” and ŠAN-TA4, “the queen of Man.” The mastery of
creation or of the creative power is evidently involved in the
work of arboriculturists, horticulturists and herbalists, which is
also the function of the DARK STARS on Earth. We will see
that the Šandan / Santana of Genesis were the holy guardians of
the Garden of EDIN (or EDEN), in which humans cultivated
food for the Gina’abul “gods.”
[115]This terminology was used by the “gods” and the
Sumerians to refer to “the place of the creation of deities,” that
is, Dukù, which is also where the Anunna were made.
[116] This name exists also in the Akkadian Quingu. Its
decomposition into Gina’abul-Sumerian, KIN-GÚ, which
means “to order the earth (or region),” confirms the higher
meaning of this term. The Kingú are the royal lineage of the
Gina’abul and reside in the constellation of the Dragon (Draco).
Note the similarity between the Gina’abul-Sumerian Kingú and
the English word King.
[117] For further details, see the explanations in Part II,
chapter 7.
[118] The term Duat comes from Egypt and is usually
translated as the “Beyond” or “Afterworld.” Its decomposition
into Emešà (the “womb language” that contains all the Sumero-
Akkadian particles), DU6 (cavern, mound) and AT, or AD
(father, paternal power, ancestors), gives DU6-AT, “the cavern
or mound of the ancestors.” Note that the particle DU6 refers
both to the cavern (the underground world) and to the mound
(the primordial hill), whereby the latter clearly evokes the idea
of celestial origins. In the Sumerian cosmogony, this celestial
mountain is called DU6-KÙ, lit. “the holy mound.” The
Egyptian Duat suggests a twofold topography, both terrestrial
(underground) and celestial, both realms sacred to the “gods.”
Egyptian funerary texts explain that the underground
continuation of the Nile, the Urenes, flows through the middle
of the terrestrial Duat. This is the river on which the divine bark
with the body of the king floats toward its place of burial and
ultimately the light. Its hidden meaning can be found by
decomposing it into UR5 (heart, soul, foundation)—or ÙR
(entrance, mountain pass, passage) or ÚR (bedrock, foundation,
base)—EN (lord, noble, ancestor, until) and ÈŠ (sanctuary,
tomb, place of pilgrimage). Many different interpretations are
possible depending on the homophonic variations, including the
following: ÙR-EN-ÈŠ, “the passage until the sanctuary,” ÚR-
EN-ÈŠ, “the base until the tomb,” UR5-EN-ÈŠ “the place of
pilgrimage of the lord’s soul,” etc. In Tomb 34 of the Valley of
the Kings, on the wall facing the tomb of Thutmose III, there is
an inscription relative to the Duat titled Amduat, lit. “the book
of what is in the Duat.” Significantly, it situates the Duat under
the Giza Plateau, near the Great Pyramid, in a place protected
by the god Aker. This god was the guardian of the Duat as well
as protector of the remains of Osiris after the resurrection ritual
performed in the kingdom of Seker (or Sokaris), at the heart of
the Great Pyramid (see note 117). Moreover, In the Amduat,
Aker is compared to “the one who guards the secret flesh [of
Osiris].” Many authors have tried to identify Aker with the
Sphinx, but they ignore the primitive form that Aker took before
he was transformed into a double sphinx: he was depicted
simply as a strip of soil from which a human head emerged.
This means that Aker symbolized the earth, or more precisely
the earth in which the dead were buried—and nothing more!
Decomposed into the Sumerian syllables AK-ER, his name
means “the one who disposes of the lamentations and prayers,”
which further confirms this context. There is another funerary
text that completes the hermetic concept of the Duat and that is
called the Book of the Caverns. It was also found in the Valley
of the Kings, on the walls of the tomb of Ramses VI. The 3rd
section of this book shows Aker protecting the body of Osiris.
At Aker’s feet, we see three men with arms outstretched in
prayer and four women mourning, their arms raised to the sky.
Just above Aker is the god Ra, who symbolizes the Sun. Osiris’
body is lying at the bottom, surrounded by a protective serpent.
Here, the dead are depicted with their heads pointing
downwards, while Osiris’ body lies on its back and has the eyes
looking upward. The text confirms that this is the body of Osiris
and his tomb because it talks about the decomposition of the
body of the “god.” In the end, the sun comes into the Duat and
takes its place above Osiris. Considering the sequence of events
and the information provided by the Amduat, as previously
mentioned, it can be deduced that Osiris is buried in the realm
of the terrestrial Duat (beneath the Giza Plateau), and more
exactly in a deep well, as was the custom in Antiquity. This
grave represents the well of the soul through which Ra’s
nocturnal course permitted the energy of the sun to be
transmitted to the dead. When it was touched by light, the body
awoke from its lethargy and so avoided a “second death,” while
it permitted him to gain the respect of the “inhabitants” of the
subterranean Duat.
[119] The Nindan is a Gina’abul-Sumerian unit of length: 1
Nindan = 12 cubits, or about 20 feet. 30 Nindan = 197 yards.
This unit of measurement was used by the Šandan (or Santana)
priestesses, who worked as arboriculturists, horticulturists,
herbalists and plantation heads. In Emešà, it can be decomposed
into NIN-DAN4,which means “measure of the priestesses.” The
syllable DAN4 was among the particles that were introduced
into the human language at a later date. Its cuneiform character
is comparable to those of the Sumerian terms UŠUŠ (strip of
irrigated soil) and GANUN (warehouse). All these words
involve the ground, especially the cultivation of fields and
gardens.
[120] The idea of two paths is found in an Egyptian funerary
text of the same name. The Book of the Two Paths is an
elaborately coded journey of initiation that amounts to a precise
cartography of the underground necropolis of “Ro-Setau”
(considered by Egyptologists to be the Afterworld), a sacred
place in which Osiris’ “paths of water and of earth” run. It is a
long and winding journey full of obstacles, but the magic
formulas given in this text enable the “way to be opened” and
permit the king to be liberated of his Ba (soul). All Egyptian
funerary literature mentions the same goal: to return to the land
of light and the heavens of the goddess Nut, the “celestial vault
of a thousand souls.” The path used by the king and his
attendants is the one that connects the tomb of Osiris (where his
body was temporarily lain to rest) and the Great Pyramid. In the
coming volumes, we will discuss the network of underground
passages beneath the Giza Plateau (the terrestrial Duat), which
extends beyond Giza, all the way to Thebes and the Valley of the
Kings. Very likely, part of it has been discovered by the Higher
Council of Egyptian Antiquities and is being secretly excavated.
It should be mentioned that the Egyptian Ba (soul) is a
transliteration of the Sumerian BA7 (or BAR), which means the
same thing. The name of the sky goddess Nut can be
decomposed into Sumerian as NU-UT (or NU-UD), which
means “the image of time and the light of day.”
[121] GIR in Sumerian means “Cow of the intermediate
time.” Through its homophonic variations, this word can be
decomposed into GI6-ÍR (“The somber one of prayers, or
lamentations),” GI7-IR10 ” the noble one [fem.] who carried (or
produces),” or GI-IR7 (“the dove that restores”). It should be
remembered that the dove was used by the Christians to
symbolize the Holy Spirit (which represents the Mother-
Goddess, as we have seen). We have already discussed the
particle GIR when we decomposed the Gina’abul-Sumerian
word DINGIR (“deity/ies)”) in Part II, chapter 6. There are
many homophones of GIR in Sumerian and they are very
telling, for they associate the fact of being exceptional and of
giving life: GIR11 (good, skillful), GIR15 (noble, civilized),
GIR4 (oven), GIR8 (piece of clay, removing clay). The oven was
a metaphor for the womb in many ancient cultures. In the next
volume, we will see that the “gods” associated clay with a
special element of the human genetic material and even with
human beings. This idea is also present in the decomposition of
the Hebrew term Elohim (deities) into EL-Ú-HI-IM, “the lofty
and powerful ones who mixed the clay.”
[122] This word is composed of the following Gina’abul-
Sumerian syllables: KIR (fish, son), IŠ (star/s), mountain,
burning, ardent) and TI (life). It can be translated literally as
“ardent son of life” or “fish of the stars and life.” This word is
reminiscent of the term Christ, which comes from the Greek
word for “anointed,” Kristos, as well as from Ichthys (“fish”).
Decomposed, Kristos becomes KIR-IŠ-TUŠ, which can be
translated as “the son who dwells in the stars.” This shows that
the term “Christ” was derived from the language of the “gods.”
It is not surprising, therefore, that the fish became a symbol for
Christ and was also the earliest symbol for Christianity, even
before the Cross. As a matter of fact, the syllable KIR was
written in a cuneiform character that looked like a fish, and it
meant both “son” and “fish.” Note that we are not talking about
the figure of Jesus here, whose advent marked the beginning of
the Age of Pisces, but about the much more ancient term KIR-
IŠ-TI (Christ). Many legends throughout the world mention
initiators and civilizing heroes who were amphibian; that is,
both fish and reptile. There are the Nommo of the Dogon in
Mali, the Orejona of Lake Titicaca in South America, the Abgal
or Oannès (Uanna) of Mesopotamia, etc. We will have occasion
to discuss the Kirišti in further volumes in this series and will
see that this term is closely linked with Ancient Egypt.
[123] This word is found in the ancient Egyptian name Seker;
in Greek, Sokar or Sokaris. Egyptian traditions, as reported in
writings like the Texts of Shabaka, claim that the body of Osiris
was put in the house of “Seker” for safekeeping. The location of
this secret place is not clear from the texts, but it must have been
near the Sphinx. However, Seker, or Sokaris, was not only a
place but also a “god,” often identified with Osiris himself.
Sokaris was a mortuary god, Master of “Ro-Setau,” which
corresponds to the necropolis of Giza. Seker/Sokaris was the
king of the caves and supposed to guide the dead and protect the
deceased king and Osiris. The Pyramid Texts (1657a-b)
mention that he was the god of initiations and underground
spaces, in which part of the mystery of resurrection took place.
His shrines could be found in all of the great religious centers of
Egypt. The etymology of the name Seker is derived from the
verb skr (to offer, to punish), which is pronounced in the same
way. The relationship between Osiris/Seker/Sokaris is all the
more remarkable as Osiris himself was punished and offered,
then resurrected as Horus, the “child of light,” on December 25,
like Jesus Christ. Osiris was resurrected thanks to Aset (Isis,
archetype of the Divine Mother) and Nebet-Hut (Nephtys), both
great mourners. This resurrection of the soul takes place in the
House of Seker, where the Shabaka Texts say that Osiris was
left for safekeeping. The Pyramid Texts and the Book of the
Dead claim that the ritual of resurrection can be performed only
when the gates of the heavens are open. There were four of
these gates leading to the Land of Light, according to the
depiction of the Mysteries of Isis and Osiris in the tomb of
Rekhmire (18th dynasty). These openings can easily be
identified with the four passage of the Great Pyramid that have
been associated with regions of the heavens by Robert Bauval
and Adrian Gilbert (The Orion Mystery, 1994) and Robert
Bauval and Graham Hancock (The Message of the Sphinx,
1996).
Considering all of the elements mentioned here, there can be
no doubt that the House of Seker lies at the heart of the Great
Pyramid of Giza and that it includes the rooms of the “King”
and “Queen,” all the way down to the underground levels. The
House of Seker gives access not only to the gates of the sky but
also of the Duat. Various funerary texts, including the Amduat in
the tomb of Thutmose III, clearly depict the House of Seker at
the heart of the pyramid in their diagrams. The latter, which is
also referred to as a “hill,” is topped by the head of Isis and
called “the flesh of Aset [Isis] which is on the sand of the
domain of Seker” (Amduat, 5th hour, register 3, 374), which
implies that the Great Pyramid—symbol of the primordial hill—
represents the exclusive realm of Isis, hence her “flesh,” and
that it encompasses the dwelling-place of Seker, over which it
also stands! The idea according to which the Great Pyramid of
Giza is the realm of Isis and of the feminine mysteries is
confirmed by the Egyptian term for pyramid, Mer, which also
exists in Sumerian as MÉR (the coiled Serpent), an age-old
symbol of the Mother-Goddess and of the Eternal Feminine.
The decomposition of this word in Sumerian—ME (divine
decree, destiny, “prodigious region of the powerful divinity”)
and ER (to drive, to guide) or ÉR (weeping, lamentations)—
suggests two interpretations that are fully in keeping with the
Egyptian funerary texts: ME-ER, “that which guides toward the
prodigious region of the powerful divinity” (the Source), or ME-
ÉR, “the place of destiny and lamentations.”
To come back to Seker, the decomposition of this name into
Emešà proves that the House of Seker was associated both with
lamentation and with rays of light: SE (rays, light), KE or KI
(place) and ÉR (weeping, lamentation, to lament) together read
SE-KE-ÉR, “the light (or rays) of the place of lamentation.”
This procedure can also be applied to the Greek transcription
into Sokaris: SU (distant, remote, isolated), KAR (dock), IŠ
(star/s, mountain), which reads SU-KAR-IŠ, “the far-off dock to
the stars” or “the isolated dock of the mountain” (i.e. pyramid).
The allusion to a dock or quay is familiar to all Osiris
specialists. According to traditions transmitted by the Pyramid
Texts (872a-c ; 884a-b), among others, the place at which the
resurrection takes place is identified with a dock or a launching
pad to the stars; this will permit Osiris’ soul (or that of the dead
king identified with Osiris) to leave its material wrappings and
conquer death. The goddesses Isis and Nephtys grieve over the
remains of the “god” and are then transformed into mooring
posts so that Osiris will not have to wander in the void, but be
taken by Seker’s bark to the Land of Light: “Isis weeps for you
[Osiris], Nephtys summons you; the great mooring post weeps
for you, like Osiris in his suffering. His front mooring is taken
by Isis, his rear mooring by Nephtys… The mourner summons
you as Isis, the mooring summons you as Nephtys.” Last but not
least, it should be noted that the name Isis, which is in fact the
Greek transliteration of Esi (“she who is on the throne”), exists
in Sumerian in the form of ISIŠ2 or ISIŠ3, which respectively
mean “lamentations” and “to weep.”
[124] The mythic battle of the “gods” in the form of a combat
between men and women is represented in a striking Pre-
Columbian ritual in the Andes called Tinkuy, a word that means
“encounter” in Quechua. Because of its often extreme brutality,
this very ancient ritual is practiced less and less today. It
consists of ritual battles between two halves of the community
or between different communities living in a same district. One
half represents the men, or the Superior, and the other represents
the women, or the Inferior. The purpose of these encounters
involves fertility. It is widely believed among the Andean
populations that the more blood that is shed in these
confrontations, the more the earth will be fertile. By offering
blood to the deities and to Pachamama (the Mother-Goddess),
the people ensure themselves a good harvest. The weapons used
consist simply of fists and slings. Tinkuy also serves to ritualize
the social organization and relationships, including marriage,
inheritance, and the relationship to the earth. During this ritual,
it can happen that the men, who are often inebriated, abduct
women from the opposite side to create alliances between the
two warring parties or communities. Since this ritual often leads
to fatalities, it has been officially prohibited by the authorities.
The Sumerian decomposition of Tinkuy reveals its deeper
meaning: TIN-KÙ-I means “to triumph and purify life,” “to
capture and purify life,” “to dominate and purify life,” as well
as “to capture the holy one of life” (i.e. woman)!
[125] Reminder: “the place of the creation of deities.”
[126] URU3 means “the sentinel of the fire,” “luminous
object” and, as a verb, “to supervise” and to “guard.” Here it
means a missile. The various Sumerian homophones confirm
the protective and destructive aspects of the URU3: URU2
(thunderstorm, storm, guard, to protect) ; URU4 (to plough);
URU5 (cyclone), etc.
[127] You will find the rest of this story in the new version of
Ádam Genisiš (volume 2 of the Chronicles of Ğírkù), complete
edition, revised and completed by the author.
[128]Aline Pourkier, “L’hérésiologie chez Épiphane de
Salamine”, éditons Beauchesne, 1992, p.309.
[129] André Wautier, Texte gnostiques de Shenesêt, volume 4,
éditions Ganesha, 1990, p. 126.
[130]Aline Pourkier, “L’hérésiologie chez Épiphane de
Salamine”, éditons Beauchesne, 1992, p. 159.
[131] Aline Pourkier, p.309.
[132]Which means that’s it would free himself from the
Archons, the evil gods.
[133] Aline Pourkier, 1992, p.309.