She was high on a scaffold with brush and hose removing the last remnants of grime from the upper part of wall when the realisation hit her. She nearly fell. The characters, now clearly revealed beneath her labours, were not, she realised, alien to her. They were, in fact, already in her memory; the language was already in her memory. She couldn’t hold it – yet. She couldn’t get a grip on it yet, but she would – she could see already that she would. All the language studies that went before – all the Greek, Hebrew, Latin, and early Cuneiform and even Ogam – were as of the scribbling’s of a child. What she was seeing on that wall, and would she on all the walls and ceilings yet to be, so thoroughly, cleaned was the language of the Ancients – a language eighty thousand years in development. A language so full of piquant accuracy and charm as to be beyond the comprehension of any without her memory – without the memories of her forbears. She was alone – it hit her like sledgehammer. It hit her so hard she staggered and nearly fell from the gantry but recovered. She could never be alone – there was mother, there was Catherine, there were the Old Ones. She wasn’t alone but she was nearing enlightenment and that threatened to be a lonely place.
Her function, having reached that critical turning point in her life, became one of a medium, an interpreter – a conduit between the Ancients and modern society. She was to not only to familiarize herself with the language of the Ancients, she had already done that, but also to fully understand the culture that brought them so far along the road of human development. She needed to stare at the murals, at the tablets within them, and the writing and graphics that gave them the beauty and elegance she knew would be there.
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She needed to read, and to meditate, and reach those who would help her piece together the memories in order to learn the way – to open the path to the pool of life in which she must float, and to swim and dive in its limitless depths until the knowledge flowed through her, in and out of her, in such a way as to make her part of it – an intrinsic, essential element within it. To do this, to raise herself to that highest level of human intellect, she needed time. She needed all of the three years she asked of John and that would be only the beginning. That would be the starting point of her real purpose on the planet. Up until now she had been toying with the ideas, testing a concept here and there – from now on she would dedicate herself, entirely, to her true purpose.