The Atlantean people lived under a government having the character of a limited monarchy. Its official system recognized an emperor (whose position was an elective one, and not in any sense hereditary) and his ministers, known by a name signifying "The Council of Ninety," and also known as "Princes of the Realm." All of these officers had a life-tenure in office, except in cases of malfeasance, which term was strictly defined and its provisions severely enforced; and from the operation of the law relating thereto, no exaltation of position was sufficient to secure exemption for offenders. No governmental positions were made elective, with the exception of one ecclesiastical office, and lesser positions in the public service were made appointive in all cases, the appointees being held to strict account by the appointing power, emperor or prince, who, for the use of this power was responsible to the people for the conduct of his placeholders. However, it is not the scheme of this chapter to discuss Poseid politics, but to describe the ministerial and monarchical palaces with which the nation furnished its elected officers, one for each prince, but for the emperor, three. In the main, the description of one of these buildings, both within and without, typifies that of any or all of the others, just as in the United States of America and other modern lands a governmental edifice is easily known to be such, by its general architectural features. A description therefore of one palace will serve a double purpose, that of presenting an idea of the most notable residence in the great Atlantean empire, since I will describe the main palace of the emperor; and, secondly, that of illustrating the prevailing style of governmental architecture in the period during which I resided in Poseid. Imagine, if it please thee, an elevation approximating fifteen feet in height,, ten times that figure in width, and that fifty times its height represents its length. External to the plane dimensions, on each of the four sides of the platform, which was of hewn blocks of porphyry, an easy flight of steps led from the lawns up to the top of the elevation. On the sides, these steps were divided into fifteen sections, while on the ends the divisions were only three, each being divided into lengths of fifty feet. Between the two sections nearest the corners each division consisted of a deep quadrangular recess, into and around which the stairs ran in uninterrupted continuity. The next, or third section, was separated from those on either side by a sculptured serpent of huge size, fashioned from sandstone and as faithful to life as art could make it. The heads of these immobile reptiles rested on the green sward in front of the stairs, while the bodies lay in full relief upon the staircases and reaching the top of the platform, wound about the massive columns which supported the pediments of the verandas of the superstructural palace erected upon the platform described, columns which formed a most imposing peristyle between the broad verandas and the steps. The succeeding division was a quadrangle in the steps, and the next, another serpent, and so around the building. It is hoped that this description is sufficiently perspicuous to give an idea of the tremendous parallelogram, encompassed with steps, guarded by monstrous ornamental, as well as useful, serpent forms, religious emblems, signifying not alone wisdom but also the appearance of a fiery serpent in the skies of the ancient earth, initiating the event of the separation of Man from God. Alternating with these forms were the recesses, relieving what would otherwise have been severely straight and wearisome lines. Surmounting this was the first story of the palace proper, its reptile-entwined peristyle holding aloft great veranda roofs, whereon were enormous vases holding earth to nourish all kinds of tropical plants, shrubs and many small varieties of trees, a luxuriant garden which perfumed the air, already cooled by numerous fountains playing in the midst. Above the first story, with its flower-filled porticos, arose another tier of apartments, surrounded by open galleries, the floors of which were formed by the roofs of those beneath. The third and highest tier of apartments had no verandas, although on all sides it had promenades, formed by the roof of the portico beneath. The same wild luxuriance of flowers and foliage rendered the stories of equal attractiveness. In all, song birds and birds of plumage were welcome guests, uncaged, but tame because they never received harm. Attendants, with blowguns to project noiseless darts, quietly destroyed all predatory species, as also they did-those which, having neither song powers, vivid coloring of plumage, nor the useful habits of insectivora to commend them, were therefore undesirable. Springing from the main roof of the palace arose graceful spires and towers, while the many jutting apartments, angles and groined arches, flying buttresses, cornices and multifarious architectural effects prevented any apparent heaviness in the design. Around the largest of the towers there extended from bottom to top a winding staircase, conducting to the rail-enclosed space on its summit, one hundred feet above the aluminum sheathing or roofing-plates of the palace. Agacoe palace was unique in the possession of this tower, differing thus from all other ministerial edifices. It may be explained that the tower had been erected as a memorial of the departure of a fair princess from the loving care of her imperial husband into Navazzamin, the shadowy land of departed souls, some centuries before my day. Such was the Agacoe palace. Its uppermost floor was in use as a great governmental museum; the middle was devoted to offices of the chief government officials, while the first flat was arranged and furnished for occupancy as the emperor's private residence. As not uninteresting, it may be noted that the yawning mouths of the stone serpents recently described served as doorways (of the usual size) to certain apartments in the basement, a fact which gives an accurate idea of the enormous size of these lithic saurians. The monsters were made with an eye to artistic proportion; their bodies were of carved gray, red or yellow sandstone, their eyes of sard, carnelian, jasper or other colored silicious stone, while fangs for their yawning mouths were made from gleaming white quartz, set on each side of the entranceway.
The Atlantean people lived under a government that was a limited monarchy. Its official system recognized an emperor and his ministers. The emperor's position was elected, and in no sense hereditary. His ministers were known by a name meaning "The Council of Ninety," and also as "Princes of the Realm." All these officers held office for life, except in cases of misconduct in office. That term was strictly defined, and its provisions were severely enforced. No rank, however exalted, could win an offender exemption from that law. Apart from one church office, no other government positions were elective. Lesser posts in the public service were filled by appointment in every case. The appointing power, emperor or prince, held the appointees to strict account. For the use of this power, he was answerable to the people for the conduct of his appointees. However, this chapter does not set out to discuss Poseid politics. Its aim is to describe the palaces the nation provided for its elected officers. There was one for each prince, but three for the emperor. In the main, a description of one of these buildings, inside and out, stands for any or all of the others. In the same way, in the United States of America and other modern lands, a government building is easily known as such by its general architecture. So a description of one palace will serve two purposes. First, it will give an idea of the most notable residence in the great Atlantean empire, since I will describe the emperor's main palace. Second, it will illustrate the usual style of government architecture in the period when I lived in Poseid. Imagine, if you please, a raised platform about fifteen feet high. Its width was ten times that figure, and its length fifty times its height. The platform was built of hewn blocks of porphyry. Outside its flat outline, on each of its four sides, an easy flight of steps led up from the lawns to the top. On the sides these steps were divided into fifteen sections, while on the ends there were only three. Each section was fifty feet long. Between the two sections nearest the corners, each division was a deep, four-sided recess. The stairs ran into and around it without a break. The next section, the third, was set off from those on either side by a huge sculptured serpent. It was carved from sandstone and as lifelike as art could make it. The heads of these motionless reptiles rested on the green turf in front of the stairs. Their bodies lay in full relief on the staircases. Reaching the top of the platform, they wound around the massive columns that held up the pediments of the palace verandas. These columns formed a most imposing colonnade between the broad verandas and the steps. The next division was a recess in the steps, and the next another serpent, and so on around the building. I hope this description is clear enough to give an idea of the tremendous rectangle, surrounded by steps. It was guarded by monstrous serpent forms that were useful as well as ornamental. They were religious emblems. They stood not only for wisdom but also for the appearance of a fiery serpent in the skies of the ancient earth. That event began the separation of Man from God. Between these forms were the recesses, which relieved what would otherwise have been severely straight and tiresome lines. On top of this stood the first story of the palace proper. Its serpent-entwined colonnade held up great veranda roofs. On these stood enormous vases filled with earth. They nourished all kinds of tropical plants, shrubs, and many small kinds of trees. This lush garden perfumed the air, which was already cooled by many fountains playing in its midst. Above the first story, with its flower-filled porches, rose another tier of rooms. It was surrounded by open galleries whose floors were the roofs of the rooms below. The third and highest tier of rooms had no verandas. But on all sides it had promenades, formed by the roof of the porch below. The same wild abundance of flowers and foliage made every story equally attractive. On all of them, songbirds and birds of bright plumage were welcome guests. They were uncaged, but tame, because they never came to harm. Attendants with blowguns, which shot silent darts, quietly killed all birds of prey. They did the same to birds that had nothing to recommend them, neither song, nor bright plumage, nor the useful habit of eating insects. Such birds were therefore unwanted. Graceful spires and towers sprang from the main roof of the palace. The many jutting rooms, angles and groined arches, flying buttresses, cornices, and many other architectural features kept the design from looking heavy. Around the largest tower a winding staircase ran from bottom to top. It led to a railed space on its summit, one hundred feet above the aluminum roofing plates of the palace. Agacoe palace was the only one with such a tower, which set it apart from all the other ministers' buildings. I may explain that the tower had been built some centuries before my day. It was a memorial to a fair princess who had departed from the loving care of her imperial husband. She had gone into Navazzamin, the shadowy land of departed souls. Such was the Agacoe palace. Its top floor was used as a great government museum. The middle floor held the offices of the chief government officials. The first floor was arranged and furnished as the emperor's private home. It may be of some interest that the gaping mouths of the stone serpents just described served as doorways, of the usual size, to certain rooms in the basement. This gives an accurate idea of the enormous size of these stone reptiles. The monsters were made with an eye to artistic proportion. Their bodies were of carved gray, red, or yellow sandstone. Their eyes were of sard, carnelian, jasper, or other colored stone rich in silica. Their fangs were made of gleaming white quartz, set on each side of the doorway.
So much sawed and hewn stone forces the modern mind to wonder if the Atlanteans obtained the finished product through the unremitting toil of slaves, in which case we must have been a barbarous people, whose political autonomy was ever menaced by the uplifting forces of the social volcano which slavery always creates, or else we possessed peculiarly efficient stone-cutting machinery. This latter is the correct assumption, for our machinery for that purpose, like an almost infinite variety of other implements for every sort of service, was our pride amongst the nations. Let me here make an assertion, not for argument but to be understood in the light of subsequent chapters, namely, that if we as Atlanteans had not possessed this wide range of mechanical inventions and the inventive talent which gave us these triumphs, then neither would ye of this modern day have possession of a like creative ability, nor of any of the results of such genius. It may be that thou canst not understand the connection between the two ages and races whilst conning this statement; but as thou shalt draw nearer to the close of this history thy mind will recur to it with the fullness of comprehension.
The sheer amount of precisely cut stone in Atlantean structures prompts modern observers to question our methods. Were we barbaric slavers, constantly at risk of uprising? Or did we possess advanced stone-cutting technology? The latter is correct. Our machinery for this and countless other purposes was our national pride. Let me state clearly, not for debate but for your future understanding: if we Atlanteans hadn't developed our wide array of mechanical innovations and inventive prowess, you in the modern era wouldn't have similar creative abilities or technological achievements. This connection between our two ages and peoples may not be immediately apparent, but as you progress through this history, you'll come to fully grasp its significance.
Trusting that the effort has been successful to depict by words the appearance of Atlantean governmental edifices, let us next obtain an idea of the Caiphalian promontory, whereon was enthroned Caiphul, the Royal City, the greatest of that ancient day, within the limits of which resided a population of two million souls, unencompassed by walled fortifications. Indeed, none of the cities of that age were girt about with walls, and in this respect they differed from the cities and towns known to later historical epochs. To call my records of this Poseidic age history, is not exceeding fact, since what I relate in these pages is history derived from the astral-light records. Nevertheless, it precedes the histories handed down in manuscript, papyrus rolls and rock-inscriptions by many centuries, seeing that Poseid was no longer known in the earth when history's first pages were chronicled by the earliest historian using papyrus; nay, nor even yet earlier, when the sculptors of the obelisks of Egypt and the rock-inscribers of the temples cut pictorial histories in enduring granite. No longer known was Poseid, for it is to-day approaching nine thousand years since the waters of the ocean engulfed our fair land and left no sign, not even so much as was left of those two cities hidden away beneath lava and ashes and for sixteen centuries of the Christian era thought never to have had existence. Excavators dug away the scoriae from Pompeii, but from Caiphul no man can turn aside the floods of the Atlantic and reveal what no more exists, for were every day a century it were even so nearly three months of such lengthy days since the dread fiat of GOD went forth unto the waters:
I trust I have succeeded in picturing in words how Atlantean government buildings looked. Next, let us get an idea of the Caiphalian promontory. On it was enthroned Caiphul, the Royal City, the greatest city of that ancient day. Two million souls lived within its limits, and it had no surrounding walls. In fact, none of the cities of that age were girded with walls. In this they differed from the cities and towns of later historical times. It is no exaggeration to call my record of this Poseidic age history, since what I tell in these pages is history drawn from the astral-light records. Yet it comes many centuries before the histories handed down in manuscripts, papyrus rolls, and rock inscriptions. Poseid was no longer known on earth when the earliest historian wrote history's first pages on papyrus. Nor was it known even earlier, when the sculptors of the obelisks of Egypt and the carvers of the temples cut picture histories in lasting granite. Poseid was no longer known, for today it is nearly nine thousand years since the ocean's waters swallowed our fair land. They left no trace of it. They left not even as much as was left of those two cities hidden under lava and ashes. For sixteen centuries of the Christian era, people thought those cities had never existed. Diggers cleared away the cinders from Pompeii. But no man can turn aside the floods of the Atlantic from Caiphul and reveal what no longer exists. If every day were a century, it would still be nearly three months of such long days since the dread decree of GOD went out to the waters:
"Cover the land, so that the all-beholding sun shall see it no more in all his course."
"Cover the land, so that the all-seeing sun will never see it again in all its course."
And it was so.
And so it happened.
In preceding pages the promontory of Caiphul was described as reaching out into the ocean from the Caiphalian plain and as visible from a great distance at night because of the glow of light from the capital. For three hundred miles westward from Numea the peninsula projected outwards from the plain, averaging almost to its extreme cape. a breadth of fifty Miles and rising much like the chalk-cliffs of England directly from the ocean to a height of nearly one hundred feet to reach a plain almost floor-like in its evenness. On the point of this great peninsula was Caiphul or "Atlan, Queen of the Wave." Beautiful, peaceful, with its wide spreading gardens of tropical loveliness,
The Caiphul promontory extends from the Caiphalian plain into the ocean, visible from afar at night due to the capital's radiant glow. This peninsula stretches westward for 300 miles from Numea, maintaining an average width of 50 miles almost to its farthest point. Rising abruptly from the sea like England's chalk cliffs, it reaches a height of nearly 100 feet, forming a remarkably flat plateau. At its tip stands Caiphul, also known as "Atlan, Queen of the Wave"—a beautiful, tranquil city adorned with vast, lush tropical gardens.
"Where a leaf never fades in the still, blooming bowers, And the bee banquets on thro' a whole year of flowers,"
"Where leaves stay ever-green in tranquil, lush gardens, And bees feast endlessly on year-round blossoms,"
its broad avenues shaded by great trees, its artificial hills, the largest surmounted by governmental palaces, and pierced and terraced by, the avenues which radiated from the city-center like spokes in a wheel. Fifty miles these ran in one direction, while at right angles from them, traversing the breadth of the peninsula, forty miles in length, were the shortest avenues. Thus lay, like a splendid dream, this, the proudest city of that ancient world.
its broad avenues shaded by great trees, its artificial hills, the largest crowned with government palaces. The hills were tunneled through and terraced by the avenues, which ran out from the city center like the spokes of a wheel. These avenues ran fifty miles in one direction. Crossing them at right angles, across the width of the peninsula, were the shortest avenues, forty miles long. So lay, like a splendid dream, this proudest city of that ancient world.
At no point did Caiphul approach the ocean nearer than five miles. Though it had no walls, around the whole city extended a huge moat, three-quarters of a mile broad by an average of sixty feet in depth and supplied by the waters of the Atlantic. On the north side, a great canal entered the moat-a canal in which the outflowing waters of a large river, the Nomis, created an outgoing current of considerable swiftness. A current was thus naturally made to cause suction through the entire circle of the moat, of which the ocean supply entered at an ingress on the south side. In this manner efflux into the sea of all the drainage of the artificial circular island on which stood the city was allowed. Immense pumping engines forced fresh ocean water through large stone pipes and conduits all over the city, flushing the drains, furnishing motive power for all requisite purposes, for electric fighting and electric services of vast variety--but enough. Electric service? Electric power? Indeed we had deepest knowledge of this motor-force of the universe; we used it in countless ways which have yet to be rediscovered in this modern world of ours, and ways, too, which are every day coming more and more into recollection as men and women of that past age reincarnate in this.
Caiphul never came closer than five miles to the ocean. Although it lacked walls, a massive moat, three-quarters of a mile wide and averaging 60 feet deep, encircled the entire city. The Atlantic Ocean fed this moat. On the north side, a large canal joined the moat, carrying the swift outflow of the Nomis River. This created a natural suction throughout the moat, with ocean water entering from the south. This system efficiently drained the artificial circular island on which the city stood. Enormous pumps forced fresh seawater through stone pipes across the city, flushing drains and providing power for various purposes, including electric lighting and a wide range of electric services. Indeed, we possessed profound knowledge of electricity as a universal force. We utilized it in countless ways yet to be rediscovered in our modern world, as well as in methods that are increasingly coming back into use as people from that past era reincarnate in the present.
It is not strange that thou art incredulous, my friend, when I speak of these inventions which thou hast considered the special property of to-day; but I speak from a knowledge born of experience, seeing that I lived then, and live now; lived not only in Poseid twelve thousand years ago, but also in the United States of America, before, during and after the War of the Secession.
It's understandable that you're skeptical, my friend, when I talk about these inventions you've thought were unique to our time. But I speak from firsthand knowledge, having lived both then and now. I experienced life in Poseid twelve thousand years ago, and also in the United States of America before, during, and after the Civil War.
We drew our electrical energies partly from the waves beating the ocean shores, more largely from the rise and fall of the tides; from mountain torrents and from chemicals; but chiefly from what might aptly be termed the "Night-Side of Nature." High-grade explosives were known to us, but our employment of them was of much wider range than thine. If thou couldst cause them substances gradually to yield up their vast imprisoned force without fear of an explosion, thinkest thou that thy machinery would long be propelled by clumsy, because ponderous, steam or electric engines? If a great steamship could dispense with its coal-bins and boilers and, instead have dynamite in an absolutely safe compound form yielding, from what a man could carry in a handbag, force sufficient to drive the ship from England to America, or to send a train six thousand miles, how long wouldst thou see steam enginery? Yet this was a power, and a least valued, one at that, which we--possibly you; certainly I--knew in the, Atlantean life. It will be again with thee, because Our Race in coming again from devachan to earth.
We drew our electrical energy partly from the waves beating on the ocean shores, and more largely from the rise and fall of the tides. We also drew it from mountain torrents and from chemicals. But chiefly we drew it from what might fitly be called the "Night-Side of Nature." We knew high-grade explosives, but we used them in a much wider range of ways than you do. Suppose you could make these substances give up their vast imprisoned force gradually, with no fear of explosion. Do you think your machinery would long be driven by steam or electric engines, clumsy because they are so heavy? Suppose a great steamship could do without its coal bunkers and boilers. Suppose it had dynamite instead, in an absolutely safe compound form. What a man could carry in a handbag would give enough force to drive the ship from England to America, or to send a train six thousand miles. How long would you go on seeing steam engines? Yet this was a power, and one of the least valued at that, which we (possibly you, certainly I) knew in the Atlantean life. It will be with you again, because Our Race is coming again from devachan to earth.
But not alone this resource of power was ours; indeed, it was our forces of the Night-Side as an alcohol-vapor motor is to thy steam-engine. The Night-Side forces--what are they? At this place I will answer only by a counter-question, namely: The force of Nature, of gravitation, of the sun, of light, whence is it? If thou wilt answer me, "It is of God," so then will I make answer that, likewise, Man is the Heir of the Father, and whatsoever is His, is also the Son's. If Incal is impelled by God, the Son shall find how his Father doeth this thing, and shall presently do likewise again, even as Man so once in Poseid. But greater things than these which we did might ye do; ye are now, ye were then; ye are Poseid returned, and on a higher plane!
We possessed not only this power source, but also our Night-Side forces—as superior to it as a gas engine is to your steam engine. What are these Night-Side forces, you ask? I'll answer with another question: Where do nature's forces—gravity, sunlight—come from? If you say "From God," then I'll say that humanity, as God's children, inherits these powers. If Incal is driven by God, then His children will learn how He does it and do the same, just as we once did in Poseid. But you could achieve even greater things; you are now what we were then. You are Poseid reborn, operating on a higher level!
The original object for which the great moat encircling the capital was excavated, had, since long centuries, been fulfilled. That purpose was purely maritime, in the days when ships had been used as carriers, before the later general use of aerial vessels; and it had served this purpose in such stead as to win for Caiphul its proud title "Sovereign of the Seas," a name retained even when the original uses of its moat had become a matter of history. When the better means of transportation had supplanted the old, then the ships, which for ten centuries bad graced all the seas and waterways of the globe, had been suffered to decay or had been converted to other uses. Only, a few sails now roved the waters, and those were merely pleasure craft belonging to novelty-loving people of leisure, who thus indulged their taste for sport.
The grand moat surrounding the capital had long since fulfilled its original purpose. Initially designed for maritime use when ships were the primary means of transport, before the advent of airships, it had earned Caiphul the proud title "Sovereign of the Seas." This name persisted even after the moat's original function became a historical footnote. When superior transportation methods emerged, the ships that had dominated global waterways for a millennium were left to decay or repurposed. Now, only a handful of sailboats graced the waters, mere pleasure craft for thrill-seeking leisure enthusiasts indulging their taste for adventure.
This radical change was, however, no reason why the masonry quays of the one hundred and forty miles, more or less, of the moat should be allowed to go to destruction. This would have entailed the loss of valuable property through the encroachment of the unchecked waters, as well as the deterioration of the sanitary system of the city, besides which such a course would have destroyed the beauty of the moat and its environments. Therefore, in all of the seven centuries since we ceased to employ marine transportation, no sign of weakness had been suffered to menace this great length of masonry.
Despite this major shift, there was no justification for neglecting the stone quays lining the roughly 140-mile moat. Allowing them to crumble would have led to property loss from water damage, compromised the city's sanitation, and ruined the moat's aesthetic appeal. Consequently, throughout the 700 years since abandoning water transport, we've diligently maintained this extensive masonry to prevent any signs of deterioration.
A marked feature of Caiphul was the wealth and rare beauty of its trees and tropical shrubbery, lining the avenues, covering the multitudinous palace-crowned hills, many of which had been constructed to rise two or even three hundred feet above the level of the plain. Trees and shrubs and plants, vines and flowers, annuals and perennials, filled the mimic canyons, gorges, defiles and levels which it had delighted the art-loving Poseidi to create. They covered the slopes, twined the miniature cliffs, the walls of buildings, and hid even the greater part of the steps which led a wide-sweeping banks to the edges of the moat, overlaying everything like a glorious verdant garment.
A notable feature of Caiphul was the wealth and rare beauty of its trees and tropical shrubs. They lined the avenues and covered the many palace-crowned hills. Many of these hills had been built to rise two or even three hundred feet above the level of the plain. Trees, shrubs, and plants, vines and flowers, annuals and perennials filled the imitation canyons, gorges, passes, and flats. The art-loving Poseidi had delighted in creating these. The plants covered the slopes and twined over the miniature cliffs and the walls of buildings. They hid even most of the steps that led down in wide, sweeping banks to the edges of the moat. They covered everything like a glorious green garment.
Perhaps the reader is beginning to wonder where all the people lived. Truly the query is well timed, and the answer will, I trust, prove interesting.
You may be wondering where everyone lived. It's a good question, and I think you'll find the answer intriguing.
In the work of altering the configuration of the surface of the great promontory from that of a plain to the more beautiful variations of hills and their intervening depressions, the scheme pursued had been to make keyed-shells of rock, of enormous strength, in the form of terraces, and leaving arched passages wherever the avenues intersected such elevations, to fill in the interiors then remaining with a concrete of clay, rubble and cement carefully tamped. The exteriors were thereafter covered with rich soil on the levels and. terraced for the support of vegetable life of all kinds. These elevations covered many square miles of the level once existent, leaving little that remained as plane surface except the avenues, and not all of these, inasmuch an quite a number of the thoroughfares ascended the rise between the hills or followed the ascending bed of some canyon until they reached the ridge at the head of the latter. They then penetrated the divide and debouched upon the opposite side through an arched way, wherein tubes of crystal, absolutely exhausted of air, gave a continuous light derived from the "Night-Side" forces. The vertical faces and inclinations of the terraces, as well as the sides of the canyons, were made into rooms of varied and ample size. The entrances to these, and to the windows, were concealed under mimic hedges of rock, over which clambered vines and rock-loving plants, thus removing from view the stiff ugliness of the metallic casings underneath. These apartments were arranged in artistic suites for the accommodation of families. The metal sheathing with which they were lined prevented moisture within, while their position under the surface insured an even degree of temperature at all at seasons of the year. As these residences were designed and built by the government, the ownership was vested in the same power and the tenants acquired leasehold from the Minister of Public Buildings. The rental was merely nominal and only sufficient to keep the property in repair, furnish the expenses of the incandescent lighting and heating service, the water supply, and the salaries of the necessary officials to attend to these duties. All of this cost not above ten or fifteen per cent of an ordinarily skilled mechanic's wages. The mention of so much detail may be pardoned. for, were it omitted, only & vague and unsatisfactory conception of life in this antediluvian age would be acquired by the reader.
The great promontory had been changed from a plain into a more beautiful pattern of hills and the hollows between them. The method was to build keyed shells of rock of enormous strength, in the form of terraces. Arched passages were left wherever the avenues ran into these hills. The space left inside was then filled with a concrete of clay, rubble, and cement, carefully tamped down. Afterward the outsides were covered with rich soil on the level parts, and terraced to support plant life of all kinds. These hills covered many square miles of the former plain. Little flat surface remained except the avenues, and not even all of these. Quite a number of streets climbed the rise between the hills, or followed the rising bed of some canyon until they reached the ridge at its head. They then passed through the ridge and came out on the other side through an arched way. In it, crystal tubes, completely emptied of air, gave a steady light drawn from the "Night-Side" forces. The vertical faces and slopes of the terraces, and the sides of the canyons, were made into rooms of many ample sizes. Their entrances and windows were hidden under imitation hedges of rock. Vines and rock-loving plants climbed over these, hiding the stiff ugliness of the metal casings underneath. These rooms were arranged in artistic suites to house families. The metal sheathing that lined them kept moisture out. Their position under the surface ensured an even temperature in all seasons of the year. The government designed and built these homes, so it owned them. The tenants leased them from the Minister of Public Buildings. The rent was merely nominal. It was only enough to keep the property in repair and to pay for the incandescent lighting and heating, the water supply, and the salaries of the officials who saw to these duties. All of this cost no more than ten or fifteen percent of an ordinarily skilled mechanic's wages. The reader may pardon so much detail. Without it, he would gain only a vague and unsatisfactory idea of life in this age before the Flood.
The great charm of thew residences lay in the fact of their retired situations, which prevented the dismal appearance of masses of angular houses, an effect of extreme ugliness seen in our modern days, but seldom, or never, in our Atlantean, cities. The result of this arrangement was that, to a beholder, looking from any high elevation, the city would have been , to one accustomed to the modern atrocities of stone, brick or wood,. chiefly, for the absence of sky-piercing piles separated by narrow, dark, treeless and too often filthy tunnels, miscalled streets.. Here a hill, and there another and yet another until the eye counted them by score--there were, one hundred, and nineteen in all; here a lake, or there a. cliff with a lake, or wooded park at its foot; gorges of mimic grandeur, little forests, so regularly irregular; cascades and tumbling torrents, fed from the inexhaustible supply of fresh water belonging to the city, their banks and shores covered with those plants, trees, and shrubs that love contiguity to abundant water. Such, dear friends, would have been the scene presented to thine eyes, couldst thou have gazed on Caiphul with me; perchance thou didst. And yet, Caiphul was not devoid of houses built much after the modern fashion, for the city franchise to build neat mansions here and there in situations and styles calculated to add to the beauty of the scene was a privilege of which any one of means might avail himself, under official approval. Many did so. Museums of art, edifices for histrionic entertainment and other structures not designed for habitation were also in tasteful numbers.
The residences' main appeal lay in their secluded locations, avoiding the unsightly clusters of angular buildings common in modern cities but rare in Atlantean ones. From a high vantage point, the city would have appeared strikingly different to someone used to today's architectural eyesores of stone, brick, or wood. Gone were the sky-scraping towers separated by narrow, dark, treeless, and often dirty passages called streets. Instead, one would see hills scattered throughout—119 in total—along with lakes, cliffs, wooded parks, miniature forests, and cascades. These features were fed by the city's plentiful freshwater supply, their shores adorned with lush vegetation that thrives near water. This, dear friends, is the scene you would have witnessed had you gazed upon Caiphul with me—perhaps you did. Yet, Caiphul wasn't entirely without modern-style houses. The city allowed wealthy individuals to build elegant mansions in select locations, provided they enhanced the overall aesthetic. Many took advantage of this opportunity. The cityscape also included tastefully designed museums, theaters, and other non-residential structures in appropriate numbers.
I found, in going about the city, that the avenues, in certain instances, seemed to come to an abrupt termination in some grotto, whose interior was usually hung with stalactites pendent from the roof. Perhaps a slight turn occurred from the straight course, and thus prevented one from seeing through the grotto. In these places, shaded, high-tension, airless cylinder lamps cast a soft glow throughout the interior, making a moonlight effect very pleasing to one who came in from the brightness of the sunlight.
While exploring the city, I noticed that some avenues appeared to end suddenly in cave-like structures. These grottos often had stalactites hanging from their ceilings. Sometimes, a slight bend in the path obscured the view through the grotto. Inside these shaded spaces, high-powered, sealed lamps emitted a gentle light, creating a moonlit atmosphere. This soft illumination was a welcome contrast for those entering from the bright sunlight outside.
While, in the majority of cases, our people were accomplished equestrians, this mode of travel was not used except for physical culture and grace, electric transit being provided by the government. Indeed, the social reformers of these days of the Christian nineteenth century would have been in their ideal land had they been Caiphalians, and this because the government pursued the paternalistic principle so systematically as to have vested in itself the ownership of all the land, methods of public transit, and communications, in a word, all property, The system was a most beneficent one, which no Poseida wanted to see disused or supplemented by any other. Did a citizen desire, a vailx (airship) for any use, he applied to the proper officials, who were on duty at numerous vailx-yards throughout the city. Or, to cultivate the land, he applied to the department of Soils and Tillage. Perhaps it was desired to manufacture some product; the machinery was for lease at the nominal rate necessary to meet working expenses and the salary of the officers overseeing that portion of the public property. Let these samples suffice. Enough, that no political harmony exists in this modern time of the world like that which sprang from this paternalism on the part of our elected officials. Governmental paternalism is a thing regarded with jealousy and semi-alarm by modem republics. But it is to-day a different quality from what it was then. Ours was a paternalism closely watched and duly checked by the suffragists of the nation, and its life was essentially exponent of true socialistic principles.
In most cases, our people were skilled riders, but horseback riding was primarily used for exercise and grace rather than transportation. The government provided electric transit for all. Indeed, 19th-century Christian social reformers would have considered Caiphalia their ideal society, as the government systematically embraced the paternalistic principle by owning all land, public transit, communications—essentially all property. This system was highly beneficial, and no Poseida wanted to see it changed or supplemented. If a citizen needed an airship for any purpose, they simply applied to officials at numerous airship yards throughout the city. For land cultivation, they contacted the Department of Soils and Tillage. If someone wished to manufacture a product, machinery was available for lease at a nominal rate to cover operating expenses and supervisory salaries. No political harmony in the modern world compares to that which arose from this paternalism of our elected officials. While contemporary republics view governmental paternalism with suspicion, ours was different. It was closely monitored and kept in check by the nation's voters, embodying true socialistic principles.
I have not even now been so precise in details as to explain many of the most peculiar adjustments maintained between the political parent and its children, nor between labor and capital. But neither can I do so in these pages with any degree of propriety, because this is not a plea for readoption, in this age of the world, of methods pursued in that remote period. Yet, this much I can say, not inappropriately at this juncture, that Poseid had not in my day, the modem, yet also very ancient, annoyance of labor strikes, blocking capital and enterprise, starving the artisan, and causing more suffering on the part of the poor than such annoyances can ever bring to the doors of the rich. The secret of this immunity was not far to seek in a nation whose government was the voice of those people who possessed sufficient education to wield the power of franchise, and this, too, regardless of sex, because inborn in our national life was this principle: "An educational measuring-rod for every voter; the sex of the suffragist in immaterial." In such a nation, and under such a government, it were strange indeed if industrial inharmonies could long disturb social polity. The broad principle of equity between employer and employee governed in Poseid; it mattered not what a person did for another person, but the whole equation hinged on this question: Was some service performed by one person for another? If so, the fact that the service was or was not accomplished by physical labor counted for nothing. It might be equally a service deserving compensation whether it was a physical or a purely intellectual service; nor was it held to be important whether the employer represented (me or more individuals or the employee one or more people.
Even now, I haven't fully explained many of the unique arrangements between the political leadership and its citizens, or between labor and capital. I won't go into more detail here, as this isn't a call to revive ancient methods in our modern world. However, I can say that Poseid didn't experience the labor strikes we see today, which disrupt business, starve workers, and harm the poor more than the rich. The reason for this stability was simple: our government represented all educated voters, regardless of gender. We believed in "an educational standard for every voter; the sex of the suffragist doesn't matter." In such a nation, industrial conflicts rarely disturbed social harmony. Poseid operated on the principle of fairness between employers and employees. What mattered wasn't the type of work done, but whether a service was performed. Whether the service was physical or intellectual was irrelevant. Compensation depended on the service provided, not on whether the employer represented one person or many, or whether the employee was an individual or a group.
Our local enactments on the subject of industrial equity were complete and rather voluminous. While I care not to give in detail a reproduction of what may be termed labor law, a few excerpts are worthy of place. It will be well to preface these with a short history of their enactment, and thus show how, in that olden time, labor troubles quite similar, and fully as menacing to peace and order as any modern industrial upheaval, were finally and equitably settled.
Our local laws on workplace fairness were comprehensive and extensive. While I won't provide a detailed account of what could be called labor legislation, some key points are worth mentioning. To give context, I'll briefly explain how these laws came to be, demonstrating how labor disputes in those days—as threatening to social stability as any modern industrial unrest—were ultimately resolved in a fair manner.
On the "Maxin-Stone," to which legal code reference in full is made in the proper place, was found this vital seed of settlement of the fearful menace embroiling labor and capital, to wit:
On the "Maxin-Stone," whose legal code is given in full in its proper place in this book, was found the vital seed for settling the fearful threat that embroiled labor and capital, namely:
"What time those who work for hire shall be oppressed, and shall rise in wrath to destroy their oppressor--lo! let their hand be stayed, that they shall obey Me. I say unto them: Harm not the person or the property of any man, not even though by that man -they be oppressed. For are not all brothers and sisters? Are not all children of one Father, even the nameless Creator? But this I command: That they destroy oppression. Shall things, which are less than man, rule over and oppress their masters? Seek diligently my meaning."
"When workers are exploited and rise up in anger against their oppressors, they must restrain themselves and obey Me. I tell them: Do not harm anyone or damage their property, even if that person is the one oppressing you. Are we not all brothers and sisters? Are we not all children of one Father, the unnamed Creator? Instead, I command this: Eliminate oppression itself. Should material things, which are inferior to humans, dominate and exploit their masters? Reflect carefully on what I mean."
The students of ethics interpreted this command to mean that the oppressed industrial classes should not harm the oppressing capitalists nor their property. The rich classes were perhaps as much victims of circumstances as the poorer people; the remedy lay, not in blind anarchy, but in eradicating conditions. This was easy, if properly attempted. The oppressed were as a thousand to one of the oppressor. The majority of them held the elective franchise, and it was determined that, as the government was the people's servant, the proper method was to deal with the question at the polls, and not to employ violence against the rich. Therefore the call went forth amongst all the people to vote on the adoption of a code of industrial regulations and to vote its respectful submission to the Rai. Of the many articles and sections, I shall insert only those that are pertinent to modem times and troubles, so that if these selections are not articled and sectioned in consecution the reason is obvious.
The students of ethics took this command to mean that the oppressed working classes should not harm the oppressing capitalists or their property. The rich classes were perhaps as much the victims of circumstances as the poorer people. The remedy lay not in blind anarchy, but in rooting out the conditions. This was easy if it was attempted properly. The oppressed outnumbered the oppressors a thousand to one. Most of them had the vote. It was decided that, since the government was the people's servant, the proper way was to settle the question at the polls, and not to use violence against the rich. So the call went out among all the people to vote on adopting a code of industrial regulations, and to vote to submit it respectfully to the Rai. Of its many articles and sections, I will include only those that bear on modern times and troubles. So if these selections are not numbered in sequence, the reason is obvious.
EXCERPTS FROM THE POSEID LABOR LAWS.
EXCERPTS FROM THE POSEID LABOR LAWS
"No employer shall demand of any employee any service outside of legal hours of work without extra remuneration."
"Employers must compensate workers for any work required outside of standard hours."
"Sec. 4. These hours shall not be less nor more than nine in number for physical labor in any period of twenty-four hours; nor less nor more than eight hours for sedentary employments chiefly requiring intellectual exertion."
"Sec. 4. These hours shall be neither fewer nor more than nine for physical labor in any period of twenty-four hours. For sedentary work that chiefly requires mental effort, they shall be neither fewer nor more than eight."
This statute allowed the two parties to a labor contract to arrange to suit themselves when the working hours were to begin or end, with reference to the first hour of the day, namely, the modern noon hour. In regard to wage matters, the law was very clear. It held that as mankind was. selfish by nature, that is, the lower nature, that he would operate on a basis of self-aggrandizement, the modern doctrine of "laissez-nous faire." Hence if be should not be actuated by the sense of duty to his fellowman to treat that man right, when right was not dictated by might, then the law must compel him to be. fair. It is in this that the modern Anglo-Saxon world, which is Poseid (and Suern) reincarnating, shows one mark of the slow but sure upward progress begotten of time; proves that although man moves, as does all else, sensate and insensate, in a circle, yet that circle is like a screw-thread, ever progressing around and around, but each time moving on a higher plane. Poseid must be compelled by its advanced minds to do what is fair towards the weak. America and Europe are growing willing to do rightly, fairly, because it is the part of duty. Thus we behold modern employers often doing of free will what the ancient Poseid did because of law, namely, sharing profits with their employees.
This statute let the two parties to a labor contract arrange as they pleased when working hours would begin or end. Hours were counted from the first hour of the day, that is, the modern noon hour. On wages, the law was very clear. It held that mankind was selfish by nature, that is, by his lower nature. So a man would act to enrich himself, as in the modern doctrine of "laissez-nous faire." He might not be moved by a sense of duty to his fellow man to treat him right when might did not force him to do right. In that case the law must compel him to be fair. In this, the modern Anglo-Saxon world, which is Poseid (and Suern) reincarnating, shows one mark of the slow but sure upward progress that time brings. It proves that man moves in a circle, as does everything else, things that feel and things that do not. Yet that circle is like a screw thread. It keeps going around and around, but each time on a higher plane. Poseid had to be forced by its advanced minds to do what was fair to the weak. America and Europe are growing willing to do right and be fair because it is their duty. So we see modern employers often doing of their own free will what ancient Poseid did by law, namely, sharing profits with their employees.
The law then having gone to the lawmakers, the suffragists decreed that the government should establish a Department of Commissary, the duties of which should be to collect all statistics concerning the food products of commerce, also concerning all textile fabrics necessary for clothing and, in brief, all articles necessary for the proper social maintenance of individuals. On these statistical reports was to be founded an estimate of the cost of all such necessaries, amongst which books were reckoned as mental food, and the cost of these things for a year was calculated. Upon this calculation, day's wages were estimated by dividing the annual cost into the number of days. This rate was decided anew every ninety days, as the cost of the chief staples was found to fluctuate, hence the rate was not wholly stable, and the wages of any given three months' term might probably differ from those of any previous quarter.
The law then went to the lawmakers, and the voters decreed that the government should set up a Department of Commissary. Its duties were to collect all statistics on the food products of commerce. It would do the same for all textile fabrics needed for clothing, and, in short, for all articles needed to maintain individuals properly in society. From these statistical reports, the cost of all such necessities was to be estimated. Books were counted among them, as food for the mind. The cost of these things for a year was calculated. From this figure, a day's wages were set by dividing the yearly cost by the number of days. This rate was set anew every ninety days, since the cost of the main staples was found to change. So the rate was not wholly fixed, and the wages for any given three-month term would likely differ from those of any earlier quarter.
Let me quote:
Let me quote:
"See. VII, Art. V. Employers shall divide the gross profits of business operations upon the following plan: The wage, salary or emolument of each employee shall be paid in the sum directed by the quarterly estimate of living cost determined by the Department of Commissary. From the remainder, the amount of six parts in each hundred on the capital invested shall be set aside. This increment shall be and represent the employer's net profits. From the remaining income the running expenses shall be deducted, and of any sum thereafter remaining, one-half shall be invested to provide annuities for sick or disabled, or assurance for the dependents of deceased employees. The remaining half shall be periodically distributed amongst the employees on. the basis of their various compensations.
"Section 7, Article 5. Employers must allocate the gross profits from business operations as follows: 1. Employee wages, salaries, or compensation shall be paid according to the quarterly living cost estimate determined by the Department of Commissary. 2. Six percent of the invested capital shall be set aside as the employer's net profit. 3. From the remaining income, operating expenses shall be deducted. 4. Any surplus shall be divided equally: a. Half will be invested to provide benefits for sick or disabled employees, or support for dependents of deceased employees. b. The other half will be distributed among employees periodically, proportional to their individual compensation levels."
"See. VIII, Art. V. The whole of a body of employees is only equal to the Superintendent thereof. The Superintendent is equal to all the underlings. Hence, employers, when not themselves managers of the business, shall pay to managers a salary equal to the combined wages of the subordinates."
"Section 8, Article 5. The combined value of an entire workforce is equivalent to that of its Superintendent. The Superintendent's worth matches the total of all subordinates. Therefore, when owners are not directly managing the business, they must compensate managers with a salary equal to the total wages of all employees under their supervision."
Truly, these labor laws and other matters have a modern sound. But civilization in all ages, among all nations, is wont to express itself in ways which, if modern language be used to describe them, will seem almost identical; so that in ancient Atl and in modem America the term "strike" may be properly used to designate a labor revolt; the same principle characterizes all other phases; for from age to age the world makes but slow progress, and is to-day not as far advanced in its present sub-cycle, nor as civilized, as it was in olden Poseid. This may seem a hard saying, but it will presently be understood.
These labor laws and other issues sound surprisingly modern. However, civilizations throughout history and across cultures tend to express themselves in similar ways. If we describe ancient practices using modern terms, they often appear nearly identical. For example, we can accurately use the word "strike" to describe labor revolts in both ancient Atl and modern America. The same principle applies to other aspects of society. The world progresses slowly from one era to the next, and today's civilization in its current phase is not as advanced or refined as that of ancient Poseid. This may be difficult to accept, but it will become clearer as we explore further.
Such, in the main, were the chief features of the industrial world in Poseid. The old-time strikes and riots out of which these laws were born disappeared and peace took its sway. The change was beneficent, indeed, yet always the strong looked to see how they might evade the law, and though they did not succeed to a harmful extent, still the wish on their part entered the sum of karma. So when the modem world of the Christian epoch came to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, particularly the last named, then began the reincarnation of this Poseid era, and for a time the tendency to oppression again came uppermost. But overriding this tendency now faintly appears the willingness to do right for the sake of right, which, as applied to industrial matters, has of very, very recent years been manifested--a sign of the evening afterglow of the last day, now near striking its last hour, telling of a spent age. I particularly refer to the greater willingness of man to treat his fellow rightly, without being forced thereto by legal enactments. Truly, it is, as yet, only done because it is found to pay; but it would never have been found to pay if the reincarnated rightwardness had not induced experiments in profit-sharing to be made, in hopes of exterminating the strike iniquity and with the idea of harmonizing society to be active in doing as it would be done by. Finally, strange and paradoxical as it may appear, this betterment is the direct child of the old-time rights extorted by might in Poseid, and to-day, reincarnated offspring of reincarnated oppression, as in Atlantis oppression sprang reincarnate from the grave of other ages gone before, previous to the wondrous memorial of Gizeh. But to more than mention this here would be to trench upon work given unto another by the Messiah; therefore only a hint can I give now, but more later. Suffice it then, that those were ages when man was struggling, with scarcely perceptible upward motion, from our fallen ancestry. Glory be to our Father that His children surely, if slowly, are by devious ways climbing His heights; many are their falls, but they shall rise again, not suffering the enemy to triumph.
Such, in the main, were the chief features of the industrial world in Poseid. The old strikes and riots that gave birth to these laws disappeared, and peace held sway. The change was truly a blessing. Yet the strong always looked for ways to evade the law. They did not succeed to any harmful extent, but their wish still entered the sum of karma. So when the modern world of the Christian era reached the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, especially the nineteenth, this Poseid era began to reincarnate. For a time the tendency to oppress came uppermost again. But now, overriding this tendency, a willingness to do right for the sake of right faintly appears. In industrial matters it has shown itself only in very, very recent years. It is a sign of the evening afterglow of the last day, now near striking its final hour, which tells of an age that is spent. I refer especially to man's greater willingness to treat his fellow man rightly without being forced to by law. True, so far it is done only because it is found to pay. But it would never have been found to pay if this reincarnated sense of right had not led people to try experiments in profit-sharing. They hoped to wipe out the evil of the strike, and to bring society into harmony, active in doing as it would be done by. Finally, strange and paradoxical as it may seem, this improvement is the direct child of the old rights forced out by might in Poseid. Today it is the reincarnated offspring of reincarnated oppression. In the same way, in Atlantis, oppression rose reincarnated from the grave of still earlier ages, before the wondrous memorial of Gizeh. But to do more than mention this here would trespass on work given to another by the Messiah. So I can give only a hint now, but more later. Let it be enough that those were ages when man was struggling up from our fallen ancestry, with barely noticeable upward motion. Glory be to our Father that his children are surely, if slowly, climbing his heights by winding ways. Many are their falls, but they shall rise again, and not let the enemy triumph.
It may be a seemingly inopportune intrusion, but I must here briefly describe the electro-odic transit system of Caiphul, and the other cities, towns and villages scattered throughout the empire and its colonies. The description is of the local transit-carriages only. On each side of every avenue was a broad tessellated pavement for pedestrians. A line of massive, bottomless stone vases in which throve ornamental shrubs and foliage plants stood upon the curb, and on either side of these was a metal rail, placed at a height of about nine feet, and supported upon davits similar to those from which ship-boats are swung. At regular distances other rails crossed these main runners, rails capable of being raised or lowered to form a switch-junction, a simple lever effecting this process. These rails served as cross streets, there being in comparatively few instances any paved street underneath the rails on any but the great radiate avenues. On the maps of the City Department of Transit these main and cross rails looked like the web of a garden spider. For each transit-district there were multitudes of carriages, having aut-odic mechanism, whereby they were made to speed at tremendous swiftness with their passengers; but collisions could not occur, as the conveying rods formed a double-track system.
It may seem an untimely interruption, but I must briefly describe here the electro-odic transit system of Caiphul and of the other cities, towns, and villages throughout the empire and its colonies. The description covers only the local transit carriages. On each side of every avenue was a broad mosaic pavement for people on foot. A row of massive, bottomless stone vases, in which ornamental shrubs and foliage plants thrived, stood on the curb. On either side of these was a metal rail, set about nine feet high. It was held up on davits like those from which ships' boats are swung. At regular distances, other rails crossed these main runners. These could be raised or lowered to form a switch junction, which a simple lever did. These rails served as cross streets. In comparatively few cases was there any paved street under the rails, except on the great radiating avenues. On the maps of the City Department of Transit, these main and cross rails looked like the web of a garden spider. Each transit district had a great many carriages with aut-odic mechanism, driven by odic force. This made them carry their passengers at tremendous speed. But collisions could not happen, because the conveying rods formed a double-track system.