The Chronicle Mathematica

Whoa to the world, our beloved Earth! For the fate of man, be it marvelous or wretched, is a mere byproduct of tragic history. Surely the plagues, starvation, suffering, and death are an aberration, a side effect of man’s unnatural quest for power and control. At least I have learned as much.

Of course, there was a time when I would have thought the idea ungentlemanly, any suggestion that man could not command his own fate. But then, I was a younger lad, not yet introduced to this very tome, this Chronicle Mathematica…the pages from which you now read. I have come to understand it has no author, other than addendums by great leaders of history, a volume born of time itself. Discovered by chance in an age long forgotten, it details a true and accurate course for mankind’s endurance, meticulous equations so profound that even the slightest deviation promises destruction. For providence’s sake, my name is Benjamin Franklin and this shall be the last entry before this world’s end.

The skies have turned to soot of late, men driven to madness and panic. I fear the passages of Revelations now bear fruit. Though I had never put much credence to Armageddon, in my time I have never witnessed days such as these. From coastal waters to unexplored Appalachian peaks, furious tempests shake even granite foundations. In younger days, I once tested the heavens but these bolts are truly unmatched, storms setting whole cities ablaze, winds sweeping fertile lands bare. Most tragically, there are lost friends…acquaintances I cannot seem to remember through this paradox, though I try.

We Freemasons, and other fraternities long expired, have defended this ancient knowledge since the dawn of time, honored to count the greatest among us, DaVinci, Sir Newton, General Washington. Truly, scholars have exhausted millennia deciphering the mathematical code contained herein, mapping the secrets hidden in the numbers, a pathway that ensures the future of men. I freely admit there have been calamities along the way: the burning of the Library at Alexandria, the fall of Rome, the rise of the Dark ages, and we must never forget the sacking of Atlantis, a paradox so great, it swallowed their civilization whole. Still, all were preventable had we not strayed, yet none were so tragic as this end of times.

Regrettably, this is a maelstrom I fear we cannot weather, a storm born of surrender to King George. My heart knew it was a mistake even then, though louder voices prevailed. We were destined for greatness and I dreaded the price of deviating from the Chronicle’s plan. What once was a dream of thirteen colonies against the tyranny of a monarch has now led to the end of the world. Why? Because men were destined to be free. Whilst the pathway promised the greatest civilization the world had ever seen, via our unified colonies, we became prey to fear. Even so, I shall not shun my culpability in this disaster, for I should have been a more ardent voice in a sea of great men. Ultimately however, amongst the bloodshed and corpses, we capitulated to the empty promise of peace, an armistice that was, in fact, a lie. I barely escaped the King’s redcoats with my life and my limbs and this Chronicle Mathematica.

Alas, I await the end, retreated underground as a footnote to history, jotting these last days by quill and by firelight, a final addendum to the Chronicle. Thankfully, the end of this age welcomes renewal, for the equations also detail a rebirth, again and again, until the frailty of men can unravel our petty differences, forgive our neighbor, and abandon our fruitless pursuit of power.

I gain solace, at least, in my own caveat joining the other cautionary tales of notable figures. Ramses II, Augustus Caesar, Charlemagne, and even DaVinci offer their own laments to future generations, fortune willing. I hesitate speculation at the tragedies that befell their own civilizations in their own desperate times. Hopefully, our repeated admonitions of a world gone wrong will ring true with a new prosperity of men.

If, by fortunes mercy, mankind rises once more, guide our future generations rigidly along the pathway outlined herein and thrive. Do not succumb to fear. Do not become a victim of time…

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In a dusty cave, at the edge of tomorrow, the light breaks through the smallest of cracks, the sun hitting the pages of an ancient tome for the first time…or the last…