Terry BissonTHE FIFTH ELEMENT1IT WA

Terry Bisson

THE FIFTH ELEMENT

1

IT WAS 1913 AND “THE WAR TO END ALL WARS,” WORLD WAR I, had not yet begun.

Other wars were raging, though.

The War of the Desert Against the Nile was continuing its eons-old pitched battle here at the desert’s edge where the village fields met the dunes; the battle yielding up a little more sand one year, a little more cultivated ground the next.

The War of Animal Against Man was being fought out by a mule with a boy on its back, slowly plodding along a track leading into the desert, away from the village fields. The mule went slower and slower, until the boy hit him with a stick between the ears, gaining a temporary advantage in the war.

“Go,” said Omar in a native dialect as ancient as the tombs that dotted the landscape. “But not too fast,” he added.

The boy was fighting his own war―the eternal War of Youth Against Age. He had been sent to

fetch water, and he was in no hurry to get back so that the grown-ups could boss him around some more.

Meanwhile other, deeper wars were gathering, wars of which boys and mules knew not.

The track wound between the dunes, into the desert. The sun burned down on scattered ruins. None of them had names.

Over the years the ancient tombs and temples came and went, like clouds, uncovered and then covered again by the shifting sands. It. sometimes seemed to Omar that it was the ruins that moved and not the dunes; for indeed, the eternal desert seemed far more substantial than the tombs and temples that appeared and disappeared at the whim of the elements.

Omar passed the professor’s Model T, buried in sand up to the tops of its wheels. Later today his uncle would come with a camel to pull it out. For a price.

Omar and his mule plodded along the bottom of the wadi, and up the rise that led to the new tomb. Even from a distance it was impressive.

It was one Omar hadn’t seen before. His uncle had told him that it had appeared several times in the past, but had been ignored by the grave robbers, since it held no treasure.

“It is not for us,” he said.

Omar’s uncle was a tomb robber. The locals

robbed tombs and temples for greed. The Europeans came and robbed them for something called science.

The Europeans intrigued Omar. They were more like boys than men. They were as cruel as boys, but as quick to laugh. Like boys, they didn’t seem to care for gold or silver. The Italian professor was as excited by the graffiti he had found as a “real” robber would have been by circles of gold or baskets of precious stones.

Even half buried in the sand, the temple was impressive. Its huge pillared entrance dwarfed the two boys who stood on the sand outside, holding mirrors to reflect light into the temple (a grave robber’s trick).

The boys waved at Omar as he passed. “Water!” they cried, and Omar stopped to share a few drops from the goatskin bags.

“You’re not thirsty!” he said. “Just bored. Be thankful you’ve got a job.”

“Quit playing the sahib,” said Mahmoud, who held the largest mirror. “You’re just a water boy.”

Omar decided to ignore him.

He left the mule in the shade and hurried inside. Omar knew that the professor and his American helper Billy, would be thirsty. The Europeans drank a lot of water

The mirrors at the door shone down a long corridor. Omar walked close to the wall so that he wouldn’t block the light.

Another boy held another mirror at the end. His job was to direct the beam inside, and make sure the light followed the professor and his young American around the big chamber.

But the boy was already messing up. His head dropped as be dozed off, made drowsy by the dim light, the bad air, or perhaps by the droning of the Italian archeologist as he explained the hieroglyphics that covered the far wall of the great chamber.

“Hey, Aziz!”

The professor’s voice resounded through the chamber.

The boy sat up, his light flashing around the inside of the chamber like silver lightning.

“You must pay attention!” said Professor Pacoli.

“Yeah, Aziz!” Omar whispered. He paused in the doorway, savoring the last moment of freedom before the grown-ups saw him. He was enchanted by the sight of the chamber with its far wall covered with scratchings. In the darkness they looked like graffiti; yet when the light struck them they seemed to glow with magic, with promise, with power.

The professor stood on a rickety ladder pointing out the ideographs, while the young American, Billy, drew them in his sketchbook.

Omar liked Billy. He liked to watch him work. Billy drew without even looking down at the sketchbook in his hand, and yet; his drawings were

almost as perfect as the new “photographs” Omar had seen in a “magazine” from Cairo.

Omar figured the scientists (who loved the new) would have used photographs, but the light was too dim in the temple.

Omar picked up his goatskins again, and started to cross the room when he felt a bony hand on his shoulder.

He started and jumped―then looked back and saw a slight, stooped familiar figure.

Omar knew the old priest. He had been around for years, living at the edge of the desert, He wasn’t quite European, but not quite Egyptian either.

The priest gently lifted the goatskin bag off Omar’s shoulder.

“I will take it to them, my son.”

Omar nodded and handed over the water bag. The old priest made him nervous, though he didn’t know why.

“Go with God,” said the priest, making the sign of the cross on the boy’s forehead.

He left him in the shadows and crossed with the goatskin, toward the ladder where the Italian was going through the script, character by character

“…when the three planets are in eclipse,” the professor said, his fingers traveling lightly across the strange characters, almost as if he were reading braille. “The black hole, like a door, is open. Evil comes… sowing terror and chaos!”

He reached up and pointed to ah ideograph of a snake slithering between three planets. The ladder rocked and almost fell.

“See, Billy?” he said to the young man with the sketchbook. “The snake, Billy. Make sure you get the snake! The Ultimate Evil. Make sure you get the snake!”

Billy sketched without looking down, his hand swift and his strokes sure.

“And just when is this snake act supposed to occur?” lie asked dryly.

The professor ignored his sarcasm. He turned back toward the wall and ran his fingers along the script.

“If this is the five, and this is the thousand… every five thousand years!”

“So we have time,” Billy said.

The old priest paused, halfway across the chamber. He winced when he heard the sarcasm in the young American’s voice.

If only he knew! For a moment, the priest wavered in what he was about to do. The young man was ignorant, after all. And ignorance was a kind of innocence. He knew nothing.

Then the old priest heard the professor’s words, droning on as he followed the script:

“So here we have these different peoples or symbols of people, gathering together these four elements of life: water, fire, earth, air…

The professor’s fingers paused on the one ideogram that had a human shape.

“Around a fifth one, a Fifth Element.”

And the priest knew that he had to do what he was about to do.

He pulled the ancient vial out of the pocket of his rough black cassock. He opened it, and winced at the sharp smell that emerged from the dry powder.

He opened the goatskin water bag as the professor droned on:

“It’s like all these people gave something from themselves to make this being…”

“Lord forgive me,” whispered the priest as he shook the powder from the vial into the waterbag. “They already know too much. Far, far too much!” The professor was still talking excitedly, his fingers paused on the ideograph.

“…this being in which all the history of the Universe resides. All the strength, all the hope… to protect us from Evil…”

“Amen,” said the old priest, filling a tin cup from the goatskin.

The professor looked down from the ladder and noticed him for die first time.

“Father!” he said. “It’s the most extraordinary thing! The greatest find in history! I mean, look…”

The priest nodded gravely.

Excited by his own words, the professor dropped his voice, and slowed his speech to the

cadence of a prayer: “Here the Good, here the Evil, and here―”

He pointed to the symbols of the four elements, arrayed around the central figure.

“A weapon against Evil! Amazing! I am going to be famous!”

“Then let us toast your fame!” the priest said. “Here Billy…” He handed the young artist the cup, and poured another for the professor.

Billy began to drink as the professor climbed down the ladder.

“Drink!” said the priest, handing the professor the other cup.

The professor raised it. “To fame! Salud…” But then—

He lowered the cup without tasting it.

“We cannot toast with water. Billy! In my knapsack―the grappa!”

The priest watched, horrified, as the professor threw his water onto the floor of the temple. Billy drained his cup and ran off into the Corridor.

A fitting beginning, thought the priest, disconsolate. I have killed the innocent one!

Not bad, thought Billy. Usually the water from the goatskin tasted too much of, well, of goat, to please his palate.

But this was sweeter.

Perhaps the waterboy, Omar, had drawn it from a better well. Or perhaps this goatskin was less foul than usual.

Whatever, Billy thought, as he scurried through the long corridor that led out toward the brilliant light of the desert sun. He shielded his eyes to avoid the mirrors’ glare.

Halfway down the corridor, he found the professor’s bag. He was bending down to open it when he heard a muffled sound, and the light changed.

Something was happening outside the temple. A sudden storm? Impossible, Billy thought. There were no sudden storms here. Egypt was not like Indiana, where a thunderstorm could blow up and blow over in minutes.

Here the heat was relentless, and the few clouds that a

Results (Russian) 1:

Терри БиссонПЯТЫЙ ЭЛЕМЕНТ1IT WAS 1913 и «войны до конца всех войн,» мировой войны я, еще не начались.Другие войны были бушует, хотя.Войны пустыне против Нила продолжает его эоны старый сооруженном сражении здесь на краю пустыни где поля деревни встретился дюн; битвы, приносит вверх немного больше песка один год, немного более культивируемые земли следующий.Войны животных против человека велась на мула с мальчиком на его назад, медленно усидчивый вдоль дорожки, ведущей в пустыне, вдали от села поля. Mule пошел медленнее и медленнее, пока мальчик ударил его палкой между ушами, получить временное преимущество в войне.«Идти,» сказал Omar в родной диалект же древняя, как гробниц, которые пунктир ландшафта. «Но не слишком быстро»,-добавил он.Мальчик борьба свой собственный war―the вечной войны молодежи в отношении возраст. Он был разосланвыборки воду и он был не торопится получить обратно, чтобы взрослые могли босс его вокруг еще немного.Тем временем собирали других, более глубоких войн, войн, которые не знали мальчиков и мулов.Трек раны между дюнами, в пустыню. Солнцем сожжены на разбросаны руины. Никто из них не имел названия.С годами древних гробниц и храмов приходили и уходили, как облака, открытая и затем снова охватываемых зыбучих песков. IT. иногда казалось Omar, что руины, которые переехали и не дюны; для действительно, вечной пустыни, как представляется, гораздо более существенное, чем гробниц и храмов, которые появлялись и исчезали по прихоти элементов.Omar принял профессора Model T, похоронен в песке до вершины его колес. Позднее сегодня его дядя придет с верблюда чтобы вытащить его. За цену.Omar и его Мул plodded вдоль нижней части ущелья и вверх рост, что привело к новой могиле. Даже с расстояния было впечатляющим.Это был один, который Omar не видел раньше. Его дядя сказал ему, что он появился в прошлом несколько раз, но игнорировали грабителей могил, поскольку он провел не сокровище.«Это не для нас»,-сказал он.Omar дядя был могила грабитель. Местные жителиограблен гробницы и храмы для жадности. Европейцы пришли и ограбили их за то, что называется науки.Заинтригованный Omar европейцев. Они были как мальчиков больше, чем мужчин. Они были как жестокий, как мальчики, но как быстро смеяться. Как мальчики они не похоже на уход за золото или серебро. Итальянский профессор был так взволнован, граффити он обнаружил, как «реальных» грабитель был бы круги золота или корзины драгоценных камней.Даже половины похоронили в песке, храм был впечатляющим. Его огромный колоннами вход карликовые двух мальчиков, которые стояли на песке снаружи, держа зеркала отражают свет в храм (могила грабитель трюк).Мальчики махнул на Omar, как он прошел. «Вода!» они плакали, и Omar остановился, чтобы поделиться несколько капель из козлиной сумки.«Ты не пить!»,-сказал он. «Просто скучно. Будьте благодарны, что вы получили работу.»«Бросить играть Сахиб,» сказал Махмуд, который провел крупнейший зеркало. «Ты просто воды мальчик».Omar решил игнорировать его.Он покинул мула в тени и поспешил внутри. Omar знал, что профессор и его американский помощник Билли, будет пить. Европейцы пил много водыЗеркала в дверь светило вниз длинный коридор. Omar подошел близко к стене так, чтобы он не блокировать свет.Другой мальчик в конце другого зеркала. Его работа была для прямой луч внутри и убедитесь, что свет затем профессор и его молодой американский вокруг большой палаты.Но мальчик уже Мессинг вверх. Его голова упала как задремал, сделал сонный тусклым светом, плохой воздух, или, возможно, бормочет итальянский археолог как он объяснил, что иероглифы, которые охватывают дальней стены большой палаты.«Эй, Азиз!»Профессор голос звучал через камеру.Мальчик, сел, его свет мигает вокруг внутри камеры, как серебряные молнии.«Вы должны уделять внимание!»,-сказал профессор Pacoli.«Да, Азиз!» Omar шепотом. Он остановился в дверях, смакуя последний момент свободы, прежде чем взрослые видел его. Он был очарован зрение камеры с его дальней стены, покрытые scratchings. В темноте они выглядели как граффити; еще когда свет ударил их они казались свечения с магией, с обещанием, с властью.Профессор стоял на шаткой лестнице, указывая иероглифы, в то время как молодой американец, Билли, обратил их в его альбоме.Omar liked Billy. He liked to watch him work. Billy drew without even looking down at the sketchbook in his hand, and yet; his drawings werealmost as perfect as the new “photographs” Omar had seen in a “magazine” from Cairo.Omar figured the scientists (who loved the new) would have used photographs, but the light was too dim in the temple.Omar picked up his goatskins again, and started to cross the room when he felt a bony hand on his shoulder.He started and jumped―then looked back and saw a slight, stooped familiar figure.Omar knew the old priest. He had been around for years, living at the edge of the desert, He wasn’t quite European, but not quite Egyptian either.The priest gently lifted the goatskin bag off Omar’s shoulder.“I will take it to them, my son.”Omar nodded and handed over the water bag. The old priest made him nervous, though he didn’t know why.“Go with God,” said the priest, making the sign of the cross on the boy’s forehead.He left him in the shadows and crossed with the goatskin, toward the ladder where the Italian was going through the script, character by character“…when the three planets are in eclipse,” the professor said, his fingers traveling lightly across the strange characters, almost as if he were reading braille. “The black hole, like a door, is open. Evil comes… sowing terror and chaos!”He reached up and pointed to ah ideograph of a snake slithering between three planets. The ladder rocked and almost fell.“See, Billy?” he said to the young man with the sketchbook. “The snake, Billy. Make sure you get the snake! The Ultimate Evil. Make sure you get the snake!”Billy sketched without looking down, his hand swift and his strokes sure.“And just when is this snake act supposed to occur?” lie asked dryly.The professor ignored his sarcasm. He turned back toward the wall and ran his fingers along the script.“If this is the five, and this is the thousand… every five thousand years!”“So we have time,” Billy said.The old priest paused, halfway across the chamber. He winced when he heard the sarcasm in the young American’s voice.If only he knew! For a moment, the priest wavered in what he was about to do. The young man was ignorant, after all. And ignorance was a kind of innocence. He knew nothing.Then the old priest heard the professor’s words, droning on as he followed the script:“So here we have these different peoples or symbols of people, gathering together these four elements of life: water, fire, earth, air…The professor’s fingers paused on the one ideogram that had a human shape.“Around a fifth one, a Fifth Element.”And the priest knew that he had to do what he was about to do.He pulled the ancient vial out of the pocket of his rough black cassock. He opened it, and winced at the sharp smell that emerged from the dry powder.He opened the goatskin water bag as the professor droned on:“It’s like all these people gave something from themselves to make this being…”“Lord forgive me,” whispered the priest as he shook the powder from the vial into the waterbag. “They already know too much. Far, far too much!” The professor was still talking excitedly, his fingers paused on the ideograph.“…this being in which all the history of the Universe resides. All the strength, all the hope… to protect us from Evil…”“Amen,” said the old priest, filling a tin cup from the goatskin.The professor looked down from the ladder and noticed him for die first time.“Father!” he said. “It’s the most extraordinary thing! The greatest find in history! I mean, look…”The priest nodded gravely.Excited by his own words, the professor dropped his voice, and slowed his speech to thecadence of a prayer: “Here the Good, here the Evil, and here―”He pointed to the symbols of the four elements, arrayed around the central figure.“A weapon against Evil! Amazing! I am going to be famous!”“Then let us toast your fame!” the priest said. “Here Billy…” He handed the young artist the cup, and poured another for the professor.Billy began to drink as the professor climbed down the ladder.“Drink!” said the priest, handing the professor the other cup.The professor raised it. “To fame! Salud…” But then—He lowered the cup without tasting it.
“We cannot toast with water. Billy! In my knapsack―the grappa!”

The priest watched, horrified, as the professor threw his water onto the floor of the temple. Billy drained his cup and ran off into the Corridor.

A fitting beginning, thought the priest, disconsolate. I have killed the innocent one!

Not bad, thought Billy. Usually the water from the goatskin tasted too much of, well, of goat, to please his palate.

But this was sweeter.

Perhaps the waterboy, Omar, had drawn it from a better well. Or perhaps this goatskin was less foul than usual.

Whatever, Billy thought, as he scurried through the long corridor that led out toward the brilliant light of the desert sun. He shielded his eyes to avoid the mirrors’ glare.

Halfway down the corridor, he found the professor’s bag. He was bending down to open it when he heard a muffled sound, and the light changed.

Something was happening outside the temple. A sudden storm? Impossible, Billy thought. There were no sudden storms here. Egypt was not like Indiana, where a thunderstorm could blow up and blow over in minutes.

Here the heat was relentless, and the few clouds that a

Results (Russian) 3:

терри биссон

пятый элемент



1 было 1913 и "окончания войны всех войн", первой мировой войны, еще не началось.

других войн бушевали.

войны в пустыне на ниле продолжает вечность старые побоище здесь, в пустыне это край, где деревни поля встретились дюны; борьба приносит побольше песка в один год, немного возделанную землю.

война животного против человек был сражались на мула с мальчиком на своей спине, медленно тянуться путь, ведущий в пустыню, вдали от деревни областях.мул пошел медленнее и медленнее, до тех пор, пока мальчик ударил его палкой между ушами, получить временное преимущество в войне.

"идти", - заявил омар в родной диалект, как древние как могилы, что усеяли пейзаж."но не слишком быстро", - добавил он. -

мальчик был с его собственной войны - вечная война молодежи в отношении возраста.он был направлен

набрать воды, и он не спешил возвращаться, чтобы взрослые могли бы босс его вокруг некоторых более.

тем временем другие, более глубокие войн собирались, войн, которые мальчики и мулов не знал.

трек рана между дюнами, в пустыню.солнца сожгли на разбросаны руины.никто из них не имена.

на протяжении многих лет древних гробниц и храмы, приходили и уходили, как облака, обнаружили и затем распространяется еще на зыбучих песках.это.иногда казалось, что это руины омара, что движется, а не дюн; действительно,вечной пустыни представляется гораздо более значительное, чем могил и храмы, которые появились и исчезли по прихоти стихии.

омар принял профессора модель т, закопаны в песок до вершины ее колеса.сегодня его дядя придёт с верблюдом, чтобы вытащить её оттуда.за определенную цену.

омара и его мулом тащился вдоль дна ручья, и рост, что привело к новой могилы.даже на расстоянии, это было впечатляюще.

это был один омара еще не видел.его дядя сказал, что она была в несколько раз в прошлом, но игнорировали грабителей могилы, поскольку он провел сокровища нет.

"это не для нас", - сказал он. -

омара, дядя был могилой грабителя.местные жители

ограбили гробницы и храмы, жадности.европейцы пришли и ограбили их за то, что называется наука.

европейцы заинтригован, омар.они были больше мальчиков, чем мужчины.они были жестоко, как мальчики, но как быстро смеяться.как мальчики, они, кажется, не за золото или серебро.итальянский профессор был как от граффити, он нашел в "реал" грабитель был бы кружочками золота или корзину драгоценных камней.

даже половины закопаны в песок, храм был впечатляющим.его огромный pillared вход ни в какое сравнение двух мальчиков, которые стояли на песке снаружи, проведение зеркала, чтобы отражать свет в храм (серьезную разбойник фокус).

мальчиков помахал омар, как он умер."вода!"они плакали, и омар перестали делиться несколько капель из козлина мешки.

" ты не пить!", - сказал он."просто скучно.будьте благодарны, что у тебя работа.

"хватит играть сахиб"саид махмуд, который провел большое зеркало."ты просто водонос".

омар решил проигнорировать его.

он оставил мул в тени и поспешил внутри.омар, знали, что профессор и его американский помощник билли будет пить.европейцы пил много воды

зеркала в дверь сияли вниз длинный коридор.омар шли в непосредственной близости от стены, чтобы не блокировать свет.

еще один мальчик провел еще одно зеркало в конце.его работа заключается в том, чтобы направлять свет внутри, и убедитесь, что легких, а затем профессор и его молодых американских вокруг большой палаты.

но мальчик уже облажался.его голова упала, как быть задремал, сонливость в тусклом свете плохой воздух,или, возможно, гудящий в итальянский археолог, как он пояснил, что под иероглифы дальнюю стену из великих камеры.

"эй, азиз!"

профессора голос хор через камеру.

мальчик сел, его огонь вокруг внутри палаты как серебряная молния.

" вы должны уделить внимание!", - говорит профессор pacoli.

" да, азиз!"омар шепотом.он остановился в дверном проеме, наслаждаясь в последний момент свободы до взрослых, видел его.он был очарован из камеры с ее далеко стены покрыты scratchings.в темноте они выглядели, как граффити, но когда свет ударил им казалось, что они светятся с магией, обещаю, с властью.

профессор стоял на шаткой лестнице, указав иероглифов, которые появляются,