I've always been attracted to the science one calls occult.
It has for me the color of legend.
Geomancy... is no doubt one of the oldest...
...and most secret techniques of analysis and divination.
It was born, a few thousand years ago, around the Mediterranean basin.
It is linked to the work of astrologers and alchemists.
I'll try to show you how the system works.
The consultant has on the ground or on a sheet of paper...
...sixteen lines grouped four by four.
After meditation and reflection on the subject in question...
...without counting and by chance...
...according to what one calls chance...
...the consultant introduces a certain number of points, of his choice by hand.
The Suns of Easter Island
Written, directed and produced by Pierre Kast
Then, on each line, joining the points in pairs...
...he determines whether the line has an odd or even number of points.
He then obtains four times a quaternary combination of lines odd or even.
We call each combination a figure.
There are arithmetically sixteen possible figures.
Each of these figures has its name, its properties...
...its correspondence, astrological, alchemical, zodiacal or planetary...
...and its hidden meaning.
The consultant then prepares according to the oldest tradition, a grid...
...called the geomantic shield.
This shield firstly organizes the 12 classic houses of traditional astrology.
Then, three more houses:
The left witness, signifying the future...
...the right witness analyzing the past...
...and the judge which gives the determinative synthesis of the question.
So this is a mathematical and astrological approach to all the data...
...and unknown factors that we call, for want of a better term, chance.
In the present case, I asked a question about communicating...
...information on the mysteries we have experienced.
The answer I get...
...I.e. the place of certain figures in the houses of the question.
Then the figure I get from the judge. This gives me a firm and clear response.
Fortuna Major.
Good.
I can tell you.
Perhaps it's even necessary.
I believe myself descended from a long line of magicians...
...alchemists and astrologers.
I chose to study solar energy.
I seek an energy source that is not based on the plundering of the earth...
...and won't stain its surroundings...
...but also a reflection on the work of my ancestors.
Across the centuries, science has given a hand to the alchemists' dreams.
The absolute fire of the alchemists!
I don't like people to be up in the clouds.
Action is the thing. You do one thing and that's that.
Me, I need to lyricism and madness.
If the world is in this state it's because people lack them.
Here, I'll show you something.
You make this jail work but you don't know everything.
You'll see how it all began.
It's only 5 km from here...
...in the fort of Mont-Louis where it all started.
The right to dream is as important as the right to bread.
Here has begun a fantastic dream:
To harness the sun's energy.
In this building, which was and is still a barracks...
...a man of intuition and delirium built here with bits of string...
...the beginnings of what is today our building.
Here! This is a feast of reason.
I find beautiful...
...that which is most modern in today's technology...
...is being installed in a fort of Vauban...
...which once held the most modern technology of Louis XIV.
Look! It's Jules Verne! Or Méliés!
There's nothing more advanced.
Seizing the energy of the Sun...
And managing to confine it. Hop! As in a bottle.
Each has a small solar motor.
Without stealing from anyone, or polluting anyone. Do you see?
The end of technology. the end of capitalism, or almost.
Did you burn yourself?
No, I thought so, but it's nothing.
But later, I'll remember this tiny burning...
...as a point of departure.
That same night...
...at the end of a long spell of research...
...a strange stream of images...
...with no logical connection...
...came over me for the first time.
Emerging from this trance, I regained my senses...
...and I saw on my skin what I at first took to be an object.
A kind of shell plate...
...that I thought was placed on my hand.
However, I had to face the facts: it was part of me.
It was as insensitive as a nail.
Impossible to remove.
No pain, neither at the center
nor round the edge.
No inflammation.
If it was the crust of a scar...
...it was surely an interior scar which had caused it.
Before...
...none of us had ever heard of each other.
The few people involved in this adventure were like a pack of cards...
...which contained three billion.
Even today I couldn't say why...
...among the billions of units, one card was chosen over another.
In any case, it was so.
Central Brazil, Minas Gerais.
A church at Congonhas do Campo. Characteristic of the Baroque style.
No one could ever understand the selection, the layout...
...and significance of the statues of the twelve prophets that adorn the terrace.
These statues are the work of a strange character:
Aleijadinho.
Alchemist perhaps, enlightened, infirm...
...tying his sculptor's chisel to his stumps.
He covered the state of Minas Gerais with his Baroque statues.
Norma, both student and teacher at the Institute of Astronomy in Rio...
vhad been fascinated since childhood by the statues of Aleijadinho.
The statues talk...
Say something.
Norma has thus spent part of her short life searching for the hidden message.
I still don't understand what you are looking for.
I believe the disorder of the statues...
...hides a secret order.
Many people have thought that.
That's no reason to give up.
Why do you believe you'll succeed where everyone else has failed?
Firstly, one of ancestors made the statues.
Secondly, the statues are hiding something.
200 years ago, we burned an alchemist who thought the same thing.
Aleijadinho was a sorcerer.
I believe that too. In the sacristy, I have a box full of his drawings.
Could you show me?
As a rule, no...
Too bad.
Everything indicates that it is a star chart.
I always thought that; but I don't see the relation to the statues.
By studying the papers given her by the curate
Norma felt she was burning.
She felt that she could now define a kind of zone...
...where the hidden message should be.
She clearly understood that it all signified words...
...but still couldn't understand...
...let alone translate them.
Photographing statues from all angles...
...scrutinizing the details of faces and the gestures that pointed to the sky...
...measuring the changing shadows on the square to create an equation...
...she persisted in wanting to decrypt the coded message.
Whether from the use of grass or the resolution of an inner tension...
...she didn't know.
But she received, as me, a first set of hallucinations.
Others would follow soon.
And after a long, restless night...
...she had appear, like me, in the palm of her hand...
...this spot, this mark...
...painless...
vwhich seemed foreign...
...and yet, she felt, was part of her body.
She was at first perplexed...
vthen the mark became as natural an accident of the skin...
...as a birthmark.
In fact, it would mark a second birth...
...but we didn't know it yet.
Arica. Atacama Desert. North of Chile.
Alexandra, second daughter...
...fourth child of a Scottish family settled here for 150 years.
Horse breeder first.
Alexandra is a centaur...
...but she also had without really knowing, the gifts of a medium.
There are in the desert, on the hills...
...huge inscriptions, predating the Incas.
No one could ever explain the purpose of these hieroglyphs...
...who made them or why.
Horse Breeders but also olive growers...
vthe family was interested in mines, industries and more.
So one makes fortunes.
Alexandra didn't care but it wasn't so easy.
These disputes were put aside for the occasion of her birthday party.
Where are we going?
- I'll show you your present. - You got me a present?
What would you think of me if I hadn't?
The same.
How marvelous!
That day, seen from the sky, the inscriptions spoke even louder.
Alexandra switched to autopilot in order to see them better.
Perhaps to hear, too.
Which caused her to literally blow a fuse.
Control tower Arica, control tower Arica, come in.
Switching off autopilot, going to manual.
Request authorization to land.
This is control tower Arica.
Are you alright, Sandra?
I feel a little sick, but I'm fine.
Permission to land... Permission to land...
She is clear to land.
Positive, permission granted.
I'll send the mechanics to get you.
What are you doing?
I'm looking at my grandfather's drawings.
Happy birthday.
What? A gift for your old sister!
Marvelous! An enormous sun!
She followed, intermittently at Valparaiso, a treatment...
...which had, without curing her, made her fall in love with the analyst.
As it was mutual, it was a good treatment.
It's Alain, Alain. On the phone.
- Alain? - Yes?
Listen, I've something really strange to tell you.
- Is it urgent? - Yes, it's urgent.
Well, you can come.
At the same time, 10,000 miles away, on the other side of the Pacific,
Francoise returned to her starting point...
vafter a campaign of six months in the South Seas.
Ethnologist, responsible for missions for various scientific organizations...
...she left Papeete, in Tahiti, to travel the Polynesian archipelago...
...aboard a ketch piloted by a former faculty colleague, who made the charter.
It was her first major trip.
Minutes of my campaign, Spring 71 in Polynesia.
At first glance, what struck me most in Polynesia
is the almost complete disappearance of all the original religions.
It really shook me up.
Unknown now the purpose of the temples, of the buildings.
And even... the names of gods.
The inhabitants of these wealthy islands...
...have probably never known the hard necessities of the struggle for life.
I find them beautiful, exquisite.
I loved them.
I think they loved me too.
But when I left these beautiful islands, with the meager results I'd obtained
I couldn't help feeling a strange presentiment of death.
Death of a culture, death of a tradition.
In this vast zone of the South Pacific...
...where for centuries had existed a strong and powerful culture...
...all had gone.
This is because these people, peaceful and nonchalant...
...had never known or used writing.
Only the inhabitants of Easter Island used writing.
Moreover, that too is one of the mysteries of Easter Island.
Helvio, professor of entomology at the University of Valparaiso...
...was doubly specialized.
His research revolved around the methods used by certain insects...
...sometimes aquatic...
...to house their offspring within the living bodies of other species...
vto feed on, until they hatch.
And secondly he also traveled exclusively...
...tens of kilometers in an area of lakes and mountains in central Chile.
In a way, he had one specialization more:
he was married, monogamous and faithful.
Much to the chagrin of his students.
He was also on the verge a great discovery.
Silvia! Silvia!
Look...
I see nothing.
But look closely.
The true problem is that...
These eggs never live more than 4 months in this region.
What's the problem?
The problem is, it takes at least one year...
...for the egg to reach maturity.
Then it'll live in the corpse?
No, because it would still die.
I think the egg is able to attract to itself.
All that lives.
It knows how to jump into another creature.
It does.
The other carries now a kind of tumor.
The egg jumps... like a rider changing horses.
What is it? You got stung?
No... It's nothing.
Helvio was evidently the one amongst us who was...
...the most rooted in scientific method.
He devoted himself to an investigation as complete as possible.
To arrive at the same result.
This mark, despite its appearance, wasn't a foreign object.
It came from the body which had secreted or manufactured it.
And at the same time, it wasn't a natural thing.
A contradiction which appeared instantly in the visions...
...which appeared to him at about the same time.
Macumba, is the popular name given...
...to the old, black, African religions which arrived in Brazil with the slaves.
And which have been kept intact to the present.
A Tenda, is a church or a parish.
There are 30,000 in Rio de Janeiro.
Most established in working class areas.
During the ceremonies, gods appear...
...take hold of the mediums and come down into their people.
In a tenda, in a working class district of Rio...
...lrenio officiates, son of the god Ogun.
He uses the evening ceremonies to receive the gods...
...and have them talk through his mouth.
This evening, the order of things was upset.
To the surprise of lrenio's wife Marlene and Dona Rosa, a lady of the parish.
I remember nothing.
Ogun came as usual.
I don't know...
A moment later, Ogun was gone...
...and another god has come in his place.
No, not in his place.
But someone or something was trying to get in contact with me.
I wasn't prepared for it. I didn't know who it was.
lrenio was used to contacts with the gods.
They spoke to him.
He felt that this time someone wanted something from him.
But he didn't know what...
He didn't know who.
Marlene as lrenio live on equal terms...
...with what is for us and our naiveté, the supernatural.
What have you here?
The mark which appeared on the hand of lrenio caused no surprise.
She already knew.
It's rather as a precaution that she consults her gods.
Oxala's answer is clear.
Whenever Alexandra came to Valparaiso to visit Alain...
...she took more care than is normal for a consultation with an analyst.
Alain, a young Frenchman in Chile...
...had been seduced by the ideas of Wilhelm Reich.
He was trying to forget his origins.
He no longer believed in classical analysis...
...with couches where wealthy clients stretch out to tell their problems.
He follows with passion the work of popular clinical analysis.
Alexandra came here regularly to revive herself with a naiveté too calculated...
...and too careful.
He believed it fun.
In truth, he was delighted.
A moment, I'm coming.
So, are you starting to believe me?
Anyway, even if you aren't telling the truth,
I'd find important your vivid imagination.
You have a lot of imagination.
And this?
Is this my imagination?
But what is it?
You're not going to tell me it's serious?
Medically, no.
But psychologically, that... it's curious.
Why'?
Classic.
Classic, like stories of stigmata that happen only to mystics.
Well?
I didn't know you were particularly mystical.
My dear psychoanalyst, let me tell you one thing:
Firstly you despise me because I'm a woman
Secondly, you think that my social class is finished.
Regarding the second point, I agree.
My class perhaps, but not me.
We're not necessarily like people in our class.
It's you who say this but it's far from proven.
In that case I wonder what I'm doing here.
You know for some time, I've had moments of pure telepathy.
Shall I continue?
Right now you're thinking of your sister's letter in your jacket pocket.
D'you often play this little game?
You see, I can stop it dead.
Have you done that long?
Yes, for some time I can move small objects at a distance.
Sometimes it works and sometimes I go ages without being able to.
Back in Rio, Norma was still receiving messages whose code always escaped her.
She suddenly decided to submit all her calculations to the institute.
It's just an hypothesis...
...that these drawings represent a celestial configuration.
- Where are these documents from? - From two different sources.
From calculations I made...
...but also from ancient drawings by Aleijadinho.
Why do you think there's a relationship
with the relative positions of the stars?
Intuition.
You're right.
This is a map of the sky.
This configuration is only visible from a particular place...
...and I have some details:
This phenomenon occurs every 5 centuries and will next occur on May 23.
Where could one see it?
It's very simple.
Everything that happens in the sky...
...corresponds to a specific point on the Earth at any given time.
You already have the date. Here is the place.
27 degrees 8 minutes 24 seconds latitude South...
...by 110 degrees 45 minutes 50 seconds longitude East.
I'm not very good at geography. What location is that?
Come look at the map.
It's in the middle of the Pacific, where there is nothing.
It's right here.
Here... Exactly at the coordinates...
...of Easter island.
I'm leaving right away.
Departure, emergency, vital necessity.
The company LAN-Chile announces the departure of flight 171...
...for Buenos Aires and Santiago, Chile.
Due to poor weather over the Indian Ocean,
UTA regrets to announce the delayed departure of flight 077 to Paris.
Additional information will be given later.
Attention last news. LAN-Chile Flight 171...
...to Easter Island,
Santiago, Chile, Buenos Aires, Rio, Madrid and Paris:
imminent departure.
Miss, I have a ticket to Paris on UTA.
I wonder if I could change it and take LAN-Chile via Easter Island.
Ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes...
...we will land at Hanga Roa on Easter Island.
Please fasten your seat belts...
...and do not to smoke during landing.
Our stopover will be 1 hour and 45 minutes. Thank you.
Santiago: the first step towards the island.
The turns of fate are unpredictable.
There were three of us on the same plane.
Yet no special intuition drew us to each other.
Each knowing only of their mark...
...they thought only of their own adventure.
Norma like us, wondered what she was doing there.
Her idea, first of all, was to go to the University of Valparaiso, to see, wait.
And at her side, Silvia, the wife of Helvio...
...had covered the whole airport looking for a lost suitcase..
Thus had crossed, disproving Euclid...
...two parallels which should never meet.
Excuse me, can I help you?
Thank you, I feel a bit lost.
- Where are you from? - I'm Brazilian.
I'm going to Valparaiso University.
I'm just going there with my husband.
He's a professor at the university.
- I could take you. - Thank you.
- Have you found the suitcase? - Right here.
Thank you.
Let me introduce my new Brazilian friend; who's a bit lost.
Nice to meet you.
She's also on her way to the university.
- We can take her there. - Yes of course, a pleasure.
Thank you.
The plane that brought Francoise from Tahiti and Easter Island...
...where an irresistible anxiety had prevented her from setting foot on land...
...arrived at Santiago about at the same time.
What are you doing?
I'm going to Easter Island.
Helvio had resumed his work in the museum at the university.
His work but not his balance...
I've already a client.
- Already a client? - Yes.
Who?
A French physicist, sent with the highest recommendations.
I was forced to give him everything.
Put aside for me all the papers when he's finished with them.
Are you interested in the island?
I might be going there.
It appeared at the same time as the hallucinations.
Now that they've stopped, perhaps it will disappear.
These hallucinations...
Have they come back?
No I've an impression that the phone line's been cut.
That's exactly the case with Alexandra.
For her too the hallucinations have stopped abruptly.
What makes you class both us patients in the same category?
I must warn you right away that I've no taste for classification.
To name a thing, label it...
...is to neither understand nor define it.
Yes, the map isn't the land...
I'd love you to meet Alexandra.
I don't think that would be particularly useful.
For what reason?
Valparaiso...
There are names of towns like this, that for children...
...belong to a kind of magical universe.
Samarkand, Ultima Thule...
Timbuktu.
Borobudur!
Well, we'll go and see your Alexandra.
I knew you'd arrive.
And you also know what brings me?
- Or should I tell you? - Of course not.
I already know what's in the palm of your hand.
But show it me.
It'd be thrilling to see it.
- So you work here? - This is my den
The base cell of the new analysis.
Alexandra will join us soon.
Very entertaining.
I have great sympathy for what you do, Alain.
- But... - But?
History has moved on since Wilhelm Reich.
As for morals, the revolution is already over.
It has eroded the taboos...
Those of religion like those of different moralities.
Strangely at 50, I'm becoming an optimist.
If we can forget the strength and will power of the ruling class...
...order, money, the police.
And let the hippies sing, like Mazarin let the frondeurs.
Of course, on the water's surface a small wind of freedom...
I think the shock will come from contact with other civilizations.
We'll see then perhaps, that man is only a dirty, backward beast.
Physicists say that it's not matter that is alive...
...but a certain structure.
At a stretch one could imagine a living sun.
I am a lion and Sun.
And you?
- You're a Capricorn. - Yes.
Capricorn in the ascendancy. Saturn-Mercury.
A trifle Pluto.
You find that really scientific?
I'm well placed to tell you that nothing is truly scientific.
What is your geomancy?
How do you know I'm interested in geomancy?
I just read your mind. But I really don't know what it is.
You've only to read my mind.
It's not that simple.
I can't read minds as one reads the words of a book.
Thoughts aren't printed...
...on tiny, little pages locked in your brain.
So I have to do my little witchcraft number?
You don't need to explain, I've already understood.
What's so boring with your telepathy
is that you rarely let your audience to finish their sentence.
Where are you going? Where are you going?
From now on, our home is yours.
Here, an apple!
I come to the same conclusion as you:
The solution can be found only on the island.
Not easy to make a tour of the island's mysteries.
No testimony, no historical sources...
Yet there must be a rational explanation for the presence of the statues.
There's surely an explanation...
...but I don't see why it should be rational.
Come on now kids, if you really want to go...
...we must get busy with the luggage and the boat.
We had initially met two by two...
...believing it was fated.
Suddenly we were four.
But we keep a sense of lack...
...of incompleteness.
We thought of accelerating our departure...
...of going by air.
We would soon give that up...
In the airline office, something happened.
We were suddenly confronted by the obvious:
in a manner still obscure, we knew one phase of the adventure would end.
Are you coming?
We'd like to know how to book two tickets to Easter Island.
'Travel To Easter Island'
Not yet entirely clearly, scattered fragments were joining,
completing themselves.
They're coming.
The figure we're forming is what I saw in the desert:
a perfect hexagon.
For 300 years, each generation of my family has produced at least 1 sorcerer.
So I'm used to this kind of thing.
But here we are dealing with a phenomenon that can't be identified...
...by our usual means of knowledge...
...including sorcery.
I'm convinced that the partial vision of each of you...
...is an element for a more general knowledge.
For a long time, I've had the same vague impression.
A bit like...
...each of us has brought a brick for a communal building.
Mine is... that I know the island.
Maybe someone...
...or something, has fixed this cosmic appointment...
Using this kind of sign as a means of notifying us.
Listen...
It seems to me that we're in possession of a power...
...that we aren't even aware of:
...the gift of tongues, the Pentecost.
Each of us speaks their language and all the others understand.
It seems so natural that no one has even noticed the difference.
Perhaps we have other hidden gifts...
Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching Easter Island.
You are part of a group?
In a way yes and yet no.
All France's friends know that that is a Normandy reply
There is a kind of coincidence, convergence if you will.
We realized that our research is complete.
Since our meeting, everything had united us.
But after our arrival, a converse, unexpected movement drew us apart.
Everyone went off to explore the island.
For a joke you could say the island has 1,200 inhabitants, 600 statues,
200 Chilean officials, 4,200 wild horses,
10,000 sheep and 100,000 lobsters.
A stone lost in the Pacific.
4,000 km from Chile...
5,000 km from Tahiti.
All around, the ocean, and nothing else.
The people of the statues were thrown to the ground by an unknown catastrophe.
The temples remain in chaos.
The red rock hats of the statues have rolled to the ground or into the sea.
Sometimes from a pile of rocks emerges a sign.
Magic, ritual.
The stones fall from time as meteors fall from the sky.
A mystery...
...of a more solid nature.
About 200 statues still under construction as if the work had just stopped.
They are found in all stages of construction.
Some ready for delivery.
But this delivery is also inexplicable.
These giant blocks, weighing tons, and no way of knowing how they were made...
...or how they were transported.
By the sea?
By a natural port, broken statues, forgotten up stream...
...make one think of a gigantic truck tipping its load.
On the ground?
Along a cleared route, the statues seem fallen from an invisible support.
And are sometimes broken by this fall.
In my opinion, no one will pierce the mysteries.
Except maybe by a trip back in time.
A crowd of unknown gods surround us.
We cannot even name them.
Who? Why? How?
Not even a date.
No timeline.
One understands only that successive waves of people and gods...
...have built these banks.
Then, slowly...
...we came back towards each other...
...following first the natural slopes of our hearts.
Everyone scatters and finds each other.
I find you.
Me, I looked for you! It's much better.
It's the same.
There must be oral traditions.
Almost every family has a private cave with idols.
Engraved plates.
There are some who pretend but nobody knows how to read them.
Nobody knows what the original language was.
Everyone lies.
As the further we go... the mystery deepens.
It's now five years since I've lived here.
Without missing a single day...
And yet I know nothing.
I know nothing.
All I can do is draw up a list of questions.
- Are they afraid of us? - Afraid, probably not.
They're intimidated. It's strange,
Sometimes, I feel they know more than me...
...that they know something I'll never know.
- It's new? - Not really.
It is said that becoming an adult they forget all they knew as a child.
That's not peculiar to Easter Island.
We're the only two who have followed an education based on reason...
...the rational, the reasonable.
- We should take stock. - Listen, let me catch my breath.
It's odd, I thought you were a sorcerer.
Right now I'd rather be a French sorcerer.
Little Frenchman, little wizard.
No. The reality is that I'm afraid.
I want to understand.
I'm also afraid.
But reason tells me that I must forget the rational.
Oh! Good news for ethnography.
Since we're here, let's enjoy it.
Let's cross the Rubicon.
- Come on, Jump! Caesar! - Watch out!
We were in this state of uncertainty when a short...
...funereal and indecipherable message reached us.
There's not much room for interpretation about the message we received.
Have you any ideas?
Unfortunately, only one.
Everything revolves around death.
From what I understand, it's rather death and rebirth.
Well?
Death, in any case.
The problem is that to be reborn, one must first die.
I'm not sure that I want to take the risk.
But this world of death is the source of all our myths.
Me...
I see it above all as the origin of all our fears.
Maybe...
But your refusal risks...
...putting everything in question.
Of spoiling everything.
I know. Alas!
To break these anxieties, this fear no doubt...
...we decided to go further still in exploring the island.
Yet we're only two days from the cosmic appointment..
I no longer feel anything particular. lrenio, perhaps...
lrenio!
The same thing as you...
Death and transformation.
If we have something new to discover, it's at the other end of the island.
Come on!
I can't do a thing.
He's completely panicked.
We must leave the horses, and do the rest on foot.
The cave... An old dream, an old myth.
Perhaps one of the oldest collective memories of mankind.
We descended as in an old, adventure novel...
...into the bowels of the earth.
Our eyes became accustomed.
We made out, vaguely, a shadow.
She talked to us in pascuan.
As at the Round Table...
...our places awaited.
And as we sat, we knew we had to go a step further.
It would be our thoughts now that would make direct contact.
The Shadow then wouldn't provide us rational explanations.
Only a heavy and dense block of emotions, sensations...
...impressions and feelings.
There would be no answer to the riddle.
Every 500 years for thousands of years...
...produced a sidereal conjunction...
...which allowed beings from outer space...
...to attempt contact with people on Earth.
Since the dawn of time, they were taken for gods.
Their image handed down through successive generations, altered, changed
But there always arose the newly chosen, new initiates.
The contact had never yet been broken.
The island was the only possible point of contact.
The statues were perhaps beacons in time...
...as there are in space or on the sea.
Markers, mooring buoys, I don't know exactly.
The time of the rendezvous approached.
We were another chance given to mankind.
If we missed it, that would be it for five centuries.
Or if the beings were discouraged, for ever.
For the Shadow, come from the depths of time it was crucial.
She was at the end of her force...
...awaiting this new encounter, which would be her last.
If the contact was missed, she wouldn't survive.
And who knows how she would find someone else to pass the baton to.
We six formed a kind of new entity...
...as if the scattered pieces had been for reasons unknown to us...
...reunited to foster communication.
Alain had felt he was outside our group...
...a function with unknown contours.
An exciting role that could become dangerous or frightful...
...according to the manner of the encounter that was only too immanent.
We felt we had to start by discovering a hidden ritual...
...climbing the steps which led to an invisible sanctuary.
So the Suns came, from the depth of space and time.
For the first time since they'd visited our planet...
...had they been able take a quick look...
...at that which was the soul of Man and of the Earth?
They'd seen enough to flee...
...to postpone the construction of this fragile bridge...
...that they wanted to build between them and Man.
But the Shadow...
...the faithful guardian...
The Prometheus who wanted to give to Man, the light of the Suns...
...she had lived for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years.
That would be Alain's game.
If he could, if he wanted.
Something... Someone...
We had been pulled from sleep, possibly death.
Each first pondered to themselves.
We were custodians of a secret of which we knew almost nothing
and yet now our function would be to transmit it.
Even if the Earth itself wasn't cured of the convulsions of its will to power...
...the wager had been taken up.
Mankind must find themselves at the new rendezvous.
In five centuries... if still here.
And that without doubt would depend on us.
It's of that, that we must bear witness.
So we set off, going back to mankind.
Alain assumed the task of guardian...
For years... for centuries... For millennia
I don't know.
When the human race makes me discouraged,
I imagine Alexandra reconciled with her family and surroundings...
...caring for her horses as if nothing had happened.
But at other times I feel more optimistic...
...and I tell myself that she could renounce her privilege.
Leave everything for a life uncertain, wandering and new.
But then...
How could one know.