Chapter 21 (Golden Stag I): The New Continent

Sixty-five million years ago, in the Victoria Wetlands of Earth

Nikola Tesla remained in the Victoria Wetlands, awaiting word from the Venusian Alliance on whether they would support his lunar gravity experiment and on the readiness of the transport ships. He did not find the wait agonizing; with Maria by his side, Tesla’s body and mind were at ease, savoring the rare taste of happiness.

Cynthia gradually grew more familiar with Tesla. She turned out to be a lively and energetic little girl. Cynthia introduced Tesla to her friends, who gathered around him—sometimes leaping and laughing with delight, sometimes jumping one after another into the pond, resurfacing to wave at him, inviting him to join in.

A slight regret haunted Tesla: he could not understand the “language” Cynthia and her friends spoke. They communicated in a range of sounds—high and low, long and short—like they were singing. Maria had tried to decipher their language system but achieved little success. In time, she discovered that Cynthia’s mother, Venu, could understand the songs and translate them—perhaps because mother and daughter shared the same genes, bound by blood.

At last, Nikola Tesla received the Venusian Alliance’s decision. Judging from the lineup in the video conference, Tesla sensed things were not going as he had hoped. Present were Director Diston of the Alliance Office, Dean Abbott, and Colonel Fellman. Diston got straight to the point:

“Mr. Tesla, after thorough evaluation, the Academy of Sciences and the relevant government departments have decided to reject your plan to conduct gravity experiments on the Moon.”

“Why? The lunar experiment is to test my gravity theory. If it proves correct, in three years, the massive ice clusters around Saturn will block superluminal waves, pushing Jupiter toward the Sun. In a short time, Mars, Earth, and Venus will be destroyed, and Venusian humanity will have no place in the solar system.” Tesla pleaded anxiously.

“Nikola, time and transport resources are far too precious for us. The scientists agree: verifying gravity theory on the Moon is not the most urgent task at this time.”

Dean Abbott spread his hands apologetically. “Even if your theory is right, what then? We Venusians cannot alter the Sun, Jupiter, or Saturn’s great ice masses. What is destined to happen will happen. We must focus on what we can do.”

“Mr. Tesla, I’m in charge of building the Mars base. We barely have enough transport ships as it is, and there really aren’t any spare ones for your experiment,” Colonel Fellman said sincerely.

Nikola Tesla was silent for a long time. He recalled how, years ago, when he submitted his paper “The Dynamic Principle of Gravity” to the Academy, almost every scientist had doubted and criticized his theory, calling it absurd and outlandish.

Tesla understood that if, at this moment, he proposed the plan that might resolve the crisis three years hence, the scientists, officials, and public of the Venusian Alliance would all oppose him with one voice.

Diston, ever the leader, spoke gently to comfort him:

“Mr. Tesla, the Alliance government appreciates and thanks you for your proposals on migration to Mars and Earth. We hope you and Dean Abbott will focus your efforts on the transformation and construction of Mars and Earth. The Alliance will mobilize all resources to support this project.”

The video conference ended. Tesla was left bewildered and at a loss, for he had never found the chance nor the courage to present his audacious plan.

Maria brought him a homemade drink, gently caressed his head, and asked softly:

“Is the crisis you spoke of in three years really so serious? Whenever you face difficulties, you always find a way. If you can’t tell them, why not tell me? Speaking it aloud might be better than bottling it up inside.”

Nikola Tesla stood, drew Maria into his arms, and sighed deeply.

“Alas! My so-called plan is a last resort, a desperate measure. I can’t blame others, for to be honest, even I am not sure if it would truly work.”

As the sun set, the evening glow bathed the boundless Victoria Wetlands, where scattered lakes and ponds shimmered with golden light. A gentle breeze carried a faint fragrance in the warm, moist air—perhaps from distant pine trees or some other gymnosperm seeds drifting on the wind.

Cynthia and her friends played, dashing joyfully to Maria’s window, trailed by several golden fawns. Cynthia pressed her small face to the glass, making silly faces, until her mother Venu pulled her away and turned back to Tesla and Maria with a helpless, apologetic smile.

Maria warmly called Venu to come in and chat. Cynthia and her companions, swift as the wind, ran toward a nearby pond, the fawns bounding after them, their short, sleek fur gleaming gold.

Tesla’s gaze followed the merry group as they leaped into the pond once more—even the little fawns dove in after them. A long time passed without the children or fawns resurfacing. Tesla glanced at Maria and Venu, who seemed unconcerned. Curious and a bit worried, he asked, “Can fawns swim underwater too? Maria, did you clone them as well?”

Maria explained. When she had conducted animal cloning experiments on Venus, cloning mice, sheep, and cows had all succeeded. Before deciding to clone humans, Maria meticulously reviewed her protocols. To ensure nothing would go wrong, she left the city, secluded herself in a small house beside the village where Brahma and Venu lived, and threw herself into the research day and night.

Cloning a human was an immensely complex genetic engineering feat. Maria discovered that artificially synthesized amino acids and proteins could trigger rejection reactions with human stem cells. After repeated trials, she finally found a natural gene, derived from the milk of female humpback whales released into seawater.

Brahma and Venu’s daughter Cynthia had perished in a shipwreck. The grieving couple begged Maria to use genetic cloning to bring their child back. Maria used Cynthia’s stem cells and the natural gene extracted from whale’s milk to clone a “new” Cynthia. She used the same methods to simultaneously clone a group of Venusians and several fawns.

The cloning project was, by all accounts, a success. There was, however, one small regret Tesla already knew: the clones’ language systems seemed different—they could not learn the Venusian language, but instead communicated by singing, as if it were an innate ability.

Another peculiarity, not quite a regret but hard to define, was the clones’ and fawns’ unusual respiratory systems. In addition to the two lungs like Venusians, they had a surplus structure at the junction of the upper airway and bronchus—resembling fish gills.

This structure reduced alveolar volume, causing oxygen deficiency during strenuous activity, but allowed them to stay underwater far longer than ordinary Venusians.

Venu took up the story: “Cynthia always loved the ocean as a child. Humpback whales were her best friends. The new Cynthia loves water too. Alas, she’s never seen the real sea.”

Venu’s words reminded Tesla of the task assigned to him in the recent conference—to build a superluminal wave power plant in the new Tethys Ocean and change Earth’s geography. This was the project he was to embark upon, and he would need many helpers—like Venu, and Cynthia who longed for the sea.

“Venu, bring Cynthia and come with us to the new Tethys Ocean. There’s a beautiful island there, called Ta Island. I think Cynthia would love it,” Tesla invited.

Venu answered gratefully, “Cynthia adores the sea—seeing it every day would delight her. Can we bring the fawns?”

“Of course. That vast new continent will be big enough. Bring them all,” Tesla replied.

Cynthia, exhausted from play, sat on the grass by the pond, panting, her large eyes gazing at the ripples. What was she thinking of—some memory of the sea from her past life?

The moon had risen high. Cynthia and her friends’ singing drifted through the air, its mellowness tinged with sorrow. Maria quickly asked Venu, “What are they singing?”

Venu listened intently, her face glowing with happiness and enchantment, then softly translated the lyrics in time with the melody:

“Longing for home, longing for home,
Home dwells in dreams alone.
The sky is clear, the breeze is cool,
Homesickness lingers on and on.
How fare the people of home today?
Thoughts of them never fade away.
A stranger in a foreign land,
However fair, it feels forlorn.
Oh, how I wish to return home,
To relive the days long gone.
All friends and family gathered there,
Heaven and sea rejoice as one.”

Nikola Tesla was deeply moved by the song. He could not be sure what “home” Cynthia’s singing referred to—was it the Venusian village, or the vast blue sea she had loved in a previous life?

He thought the beautiful melody, if played by a symphony orchestra, would make a lyrical adagio in a grand symphony.

Tesla closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, the new Tethys Ocean appeared, spanning the Eurasian and Indo-Australian plates of Earth. When the Ta Island power plant was built, the ancient ocean would vanish, the land would rise, forming Earth’s highest plateau and peaks.

Though the looming crisis in the solar system could not be dispelled, Tesla put aside his worries for the moment and smiled with childlike joy. He gently took Maria’s hand and held it tight.

In his heart, Tesla named the grand symphony inspired by Cynthia’s song:

“From the New World.”

&

A poem of collected lines and seals:

With ease, I embrace the spirit of the times. (Tang, Ouyang Zhan)
People say, better to run with the deer. (Song, Chen Pu)
The autumn goddess melts away tears of jade. (Song, Zhang Nie)
When I return, how many branches will remain? (Song, Ren Xiyi)