Traveller Manifesto

Mississippi – 11th Century.

“I’m trying to process this into a format we can all understand,” explained Professor Hughes. He looked haunted. “Like most academics, we know of human cruelty in religion. It’s well documented throughout most cultures. You all knew that the ancient Americans conducted human sacrifice. That’s one thing. But to see it, hear it, experience it? Well, that’s quite another!” His voice shook and Leishman knew he was yet another Traveller who might need psychiatric support. He stood in front of the rest of the team, all sheltered from an afternoon storm in the main tent in their camp. Members of the Mississippi Traveller team who had not been on the patrol were on guard. The Tower Hawk systems were on and ready to shoot, for the mood for the mission had changed to a barely restrained fury.

The ceremony, for that is what it was, had been one of the toughest moments in the lives of most of the team. Not only for the troops and academics on the patrol, but also the Mississippi Traveller support team who witnessed everything in real time. Footage captured by the UAV’s and troop cameras had been crystal clear.

Leishman had been sickened. She was just a kid. She had been shot a few more times with arrows, all non-fatal. Then the priest, Vohkinne, had advanced on her with an obsidian knife.

They left immediately. Though the locals stared after them in confusion, it was vital that they move. Highly disciplined though his men were, there was something about tearing the beating heart out of a young girl that had their blood boil. On their speedy march back to camp, Professor Cowen and Professor Hughes gasped as they struggled to explain their theories to the rest of the team, for some of the soldiers were primed for murder. Only their iron discipline prevented a slaughter.

Professor Hughes suppressed a sob and wiped his streaming eyes. “Imagine this,” he continued. “Imagine you were raised here, that your religion included the sacrifice of children for the benefit of all.” He looked at the men arrayed before him and Leishman felt proud they had not over-reacted. Some wiped tears, while others sat in stony silence as they ground their teeth and sighed. They were veterans of some of the most conflict-ridden places on earth. It wasn’t the death, but the nature of the death that had shocked them. “The people here look to have a form of worship of various deities. One of the most important looks to be similar to the Aztec God, Quetzalcoatl, who is an amalgam of a bird and a snake, kind of like the birdman or thunderbird important to many first-peoples in the USA. Now, somehow, there was a relationship with a Goddess Amadahy. You will most likely have heard that name in the ceremony. The young girl had, for the ceremony, ceased to be a young woman and had become Amadahy, who might be a consort for this birdman / thunderbird / Quetzalcoatl deity. Now, just bear with me, for I’m only going on our prior knowledge of Mississippian Civilisation which, of course, is being dramatically updated. My theory is that the ceremony represented the return of Amadahy to Quetzalcoatl, that the girl was, when she died, the Goddess, that it was important for her to suffer pain and die, that her blood was to represent the continuation of life-giving rain upon the land, that the people could continue to have enough food and safety.”

“So is this a type of Jesus thing?” asked one of the men.

Some of the men shuffled uncomfortably to have their own religious beliefs compared to the death of a young woman. Leishman’s head came up, for the similarity between the death of one God, and the death of Jesus Christ, might be valid. Did a symbolic human sacrifice for all differ so much from an actual death? Was her suffering and then death for all similar to the suffering and death of Christ? It was no proof of any connection with his own religious beliefs, but was a most disturbing thought.

Was religion really about death and suffering, about someone dying for the many?

“Then, why did they do it today?” asked one of the soldiers. “Why with us?”

“We think they honoured us,” Professor Cowen replied. “To them, our visit was a most sacred occasion. We’re certain they thought of us as deity. The death was to bring life and therefore our approval and blessings. One, most likely a virgin, was to be sacrificed for the good of the many.”

“She was only, what? Fifteen? Sixteen?” growled one of the men. “It took me everything I had not to put a couple of rounds into that fucking priest’s head!”

“He gutted her like a fish,” exclaimed another. “And to pull out her fucking heart … sweet Jesus. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

There was a growl of angry agreement from most of the men who sat on the ground. In the covered area, the computer screens of the UAV crews displayed the vision of Cahokia as their craft hovered. Most of the villagers had removed themselves from the place of sacrifice. Regrettably, the body of the young girl remained hanging, her arms outspread, her chest with its bloody gouge.

Colonel Jamieson looked across his men and caught Leishman’s eye. There had been much discussion on their journey back to camp. This was to be his call. According to the academics it was doubtful they would gain any more insights without causing more lives to be lost. Their departure might have insulted the leaders or might be a catalyst for even more sacrifices.

None of them wanted that responsibility.

It was time to go.