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had been completed about 70 years before the 'catastrophe' but
apparently no effort was made to utilize it in any way. To me it
appears probable that in some one mind the whole 'catastrophe'
was brooding, that the column was part of the device, and that
the event which I shall now describe was the other part.
This event was the birth of a child in the High House, a child
without the distinguishing mark of the daughters of Atlas. That
any child at all should have been born there is so incredible
that I am inclined to suspect an improper use of the word 'born'.
I think rather that a magician brought Zro to its eleventh stage,
when it takes human form, and lives! The alternative theory is
that of the 'Angel of Venus' described in the chapter on the
Underground Gardens of Atlas. The supporters of this theory hold
that the child was not born of a priestess, but of the Living
Atla.
In any case, the whole country gave itself up to unbridled
rejoicing. Work was carried on at a greater speed than ever
before: one might say a delirium of labour. For eleven years this
continued without cessation, and then without warning came the
order to repair to the High House--every man, woman and child of
Atlas. What was then done, I know not, and dare not guess; that
same day seven volunteers, heroic exiles from the reward of so
many centuries of toil, voluntary maroons on the discarded
planet, the Heirs of Atlas, turned their faces from the High
House, and severally sought distant mountains, there each to
guard his share of the Secrets of the Holy Race, and in due time
to discover and train up fit children of other races of the earth
so that one day another people might be founded to undertake
another such task as that now ended.
Hardly had the pinnacle of Atlas melted into the sea behind
them, than the 'catastrophe' occurred. The High House and the
column beneath it, with all the inhabitants of Atlas, shot from
the earth with the vehemence of a million lightnings, bound for
that green blaze of glory that scintillated in the West above the
sunset.
Instantly the Earth, its god departed, gave itself up to
anguish. The sea rushed unto the void of the column and in a
thousand earthquakes Atlas, 'houses' and plains together were
overwhelmed forever in the ocean. Tidal waves rolled round the
world; everywhere great floods carried away villages and towns;
earthquakes rocked and tempests roared; tumult was triumphant.
For years after the catastrophe the dying tremors of the Event
still shook mankind with fear.* And the eternal waves of the great
mother rolled over Atlas, save where Earth in her agony thrust up
gaunt pinnacles, bare masts of wreckage to mark the vanished
continent. Save for its heirs, of whose successors it is my
highest honour to be the youngest and the least worthy, oblivion
fell, like one last night in which the sun should be forever
extinct, upon the land of Atlas and its people.
Shall such high purpose fail of emulation, such achievement
and example not excite us to like striving? Then let earth fall
indeed from her high place in heaven, and mankind be outcast
forever from the sun! Men of Earth! Seek out the heirs of Atlas;
let them order you into a phalanx, let them build you into a
pyramid, that may pierce that appointed which awaits you, to
establish a new dynasty of Atlanteans to be the mainstay and
mainspring of the Earth, the pioneers of their own path to
heaven, and to our lord and Father, the Sun! And he put his hand
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