The Fifth World

They both knew how to quiet my restless Catholic soul. And now I was starting to understand why. On the evening of that first day in November, I was, of course, not dead. But nevertheless, I found myself face-to-face with the Creator. His giant face stared back at me serenely, his body more than fifteen feet tall, his arms spread wide, inviting, as I hovered inches from his nose. In truth, he had nothing to worry about. I was in excellent shape, an expert with these harnesses, and the alarm in this wing of the cathedral alerted security every time I climbed down from my scaffolding, usually before midnight.

If your harness gives way and you come crashing down, no one will know about it until seven in the morning. This is not Mount Everest or anything. Have a good night. My work required surgical precision, nerves of steel and total concentration. They seem to like this spot, in particular. Death, despite my earlier daydreams, was still a long way off. Deep down, I saw it as a fortunate coincidence.

For centuries, pilgrims had traveled the Way of St. James, the oldest and most journeyed spiritual pilgrimage in Europe, to visit the very sculptures I was analyzing in the shrine to St. James at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. They made this trek to revive their faith, reminding themselves that to cross under this archway meant ending their sinful life and beginning another one that was more sublime.

The more than two hundred sculptures here truly were a collection of immortals, an army impervious to man and time. And yet, since the year , some inexplicable disease was causing these statues to crumble. Isaiah and Daniel, for example, seemed to be peeling in layers, while the musicians strumming their instruments above them threatened to come crashing down in chunks, had we not reinforced them. Heralding angels, characters from the book of Genesis, sinners and the convicted—all of the sculptures showed worrisome signs, a darkening, an aging that seemed to be sapping the life from them.

Not since the time of the Crusades had anyone examined these sculptures as closely as I had. And, of course, when there were no other experts to challenge my ideas. Because I had another explanation. One so controversial it had brought me nothing but trouble. I was the only one of our crew who had grown up nearby, in a town along the Costa da Morte.

And I knew—or rather, I felt in my bones—that there was more to the rapid crumbling of these ancient works than merely some strange lichen or acid. The dean of the cathedral agreed with me. He was the one who always stood up to the Foundation for me and encouraged me to follow my instincts. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. If everything went as planned, tomorrow the University of Santiago de Compostela would process the data from the stone in the department of mineralogy at its School of Geological Sciences. Then, thirty-six hours later, we could discuss the results.

Tired but hopeful, I lowered myself and untied my harness to make sure the information was transmitting. I was relieved to hear the five-terabyte hard drive purring like a satisfied kitten, filling the cavernous room with a rewarding hum that put me in a good mood as it finished registering all the information—the topography of each crevice, the spectrographic analysis and the video files recorded by the endoscope.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan. So with satisfaction at a job well done, I finally relaxed after untangling myself from my ropes, and started picking up my equipment. I fantasized about taking a hot shower, eating a hot meal and massaging lotion onto my tired muscles before curling up with a book to distract me.

But destiny has a way of toying with our best-laid plans, and that night, it had something unexpected in store for me. Just as I disconnected the powerful headlamp and removed my helmet, a darting movement at the back of the church made me start. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as if the cavern had been charged with static electricity. In the depths of the cathedral, I imagined I saw a flash. A glow that emerged from the ground and traveled a lighted path toward the center of the intersecting aisles about a hundred feet away.

I tried to stay calm. I knew this place like the back of my hand. And I knew where to go in case I had to make a run for it. Besides, I had a cell phone and a key to the gate that led outside to the Plaza del Obradoiro. I had nothing to fear. Sometimes, lights can play tricks on you. When each world is destroyed it is reborn through the sacrifice of a god. Jaguars, a hurricane, fire rain, and a flood destroyed the first four suns.

Tecuciztecatl , a boastful and proud god, offered himself up for sacrifice.

However, the rest of gods favored Nanahuatzin , the smallest and humblest god. The gods built a grand fire, but at the last second Tecuciztecatl refused to jump into the fire because he was too afraid of the pain. Instead, Nanahuatzin jumped in the fire. The two suns rose in the sky, but they were too bright. The gods threw a rabbit at Tecuciztecatl to dim his light, and he turned into the moon. This is the reason why the Aztec people say there is a rabbit that lives on the moon.

Still however, the sun remained motionless in the sky, burning the ground below. The gods then recognized they all must be sacrificed so that the people could survive. The god Ehecatl helped offering them up.

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The sacrifices made the sun move through the sky, energizing earth instead of burning it. In the Aztec tradition, the Fifth World is the last one and after this one the earth will not be recreated. The gods would only keep the sun alive as long as the Aztecs continued providing them with blood. Blood sacrifice was an often-used form of nextlahualli or debt-payment. The early Judaic-Christian concept of the world is similar to the Navajo concept of the world. This world is one where the earth is an area of land floating in an ocean covered by a domed heaven.

The domed heaven fits the land and ocean like a lid with its edges on the horizon. The Navajo creation story traces the evolution of life through four previous worlds until the people reach the fifth and present world. As the humans passed through each of the previous four worlds, they went through evolution. They started out as insects and various animals until they became humans in the Fourth World. Upon arriving in the Fourth World the First Man was not satisfied. The land was barren.

Fifth World Landslide Forum | ISSMGE

He planted a reed and it grew to the roof of the Fourth World. First Man sent the badger up the reed, but water began to drip before he could reach top so he returned. Next a locust climbed the reed. The locust made a headband with two crossed arrows on his forehead.

With the help of all the gods the locust reached the Fifth World. When he pushed through mud he reached water and saw a black water bird swimming towards him. The locust took the arrows from his headband and pulled them through his body, between his shell and his heart. The black bird was convinced that the locust possessed great medicine, and he swam away taking the water with him. The locust returned to the lower world.

Now two days had passed and there was no sun.

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First Man sent the badger up to the Fifth World again. The badger returned covered with mud from a flood.

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First Man collected turquoise chips to offer to the five Chiefs of the Winds. They were satisfied with the gift, and they dried the Fifth World. When the badger returned he said that he had come out on dry earth.