The day was drawing to a close in Bari’s home, nestled amidst the towering peaks of Banff, Alberta. The setting sun, a molten gold orb dipping behind the snow-capped mountains, cast long shadows across the spacious living room, painting the scene in hues of amber and blue twilight. Elara, Liam, and Anya glanced around the room, their eyes catching the subtle dance of light from the holographic displays. The images seemed to float in the air, integrated so seamlessly into the walls that they were almost like living paintings, shifting and changing with a quiet energy that made Anya feel as though the very room was holding its breath; they all patiently waited to hear Grandpa’s story.

Bari sat in a comfortable, high-backed chair, the soft light illuminating his face. He appeared to be in his late seventies, a well-dressed, distinguished gentleman, but his eyes, a deep, fathomless blue, held a weight of centuries, a quiet depth that belied his apparent youth. There was a gentle melancholy about him, a sense of ancient wisdom tinged with an enduring sadness, as he looked upon his three grandchildren gathered before him.

Elara, the eldest, perched on the edge of a nearby sofa, her expression a complex mix of skepticism and intellectual curiosity. At twenty-eight, she was a successful astrophysicist, bright, inquisitive, and fiercely independent, with a sharp mind that demanded proof and logic. She was the first to voice her disbelief, but also the most eager to understand.

Liam, twenty-two, leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in concentration. A budding bio-engineer, he was more reserved and analytical, his scientific mind grappling with the implications of what he was about to hear. He sought explanations rooted in biology and technology.

Anya, the youngest at sixteen, sat closest to Bari, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation. She was sensitive, empathetic, and imaginative, her heart open to the emotional core of the story, readily connecting with the loneliness and loss inherent in a life lived across centuries.

The room was filled with a palpable sense of anticipation, a feeling that they were on the cusp of entering a hidden history, a reality that would challenge everything they thought they knew.

“Grandpa,” Elara began, her voice a low hum of curiosity, “This has to do with the fact that you’ve lived longer than any other human being, doesn’t it? We’ve always asked your age, and you’d just say, ‘Five hundred and some years.’ Are you finally going to explain that? And please, remember I’m not a child anymore.”

Bari’s gaze softened as he reached out, his hand surprisingly steady, and gently touched Elara’s. “Oh, my dears,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the ancient stones of the mountains outside, “that’s barely scratching the surface. To understand, you have to go back, far, far back, to a time when this land, this Canada, was a wild and untamed place. A land of sprawling forests, rushing rivers, and indigenous tribes who lived in harmony with a world that was both beautiful and brutal.”

Liam leaned forward, his expression intent. “Before it was even Canada?”

Bari nodded, a distant look in his eyes. “Long before. To the 1450s. Imagine a world without the cities you know, without the interconnectedness, the ease of life. My beginning wasn’t… conventional. I wasn’t born in the way you were. My creation, was by order of Queen Siri XII.”

Anya’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The Living God? You mean, the actual Queen Siri? The one they talk about in hushed tones in the archives?”

“The very same,” Bari confirmed, a hint of reverence in his voice. “Even then, the Sirians knew the clock was ticking for Earth, for humanity. They saw the potential, yes, but also the inherent flaws, the self-destructive tendencies that could lead to their ruin. And they needed… something more. Something that could endure them all. The E-Human project was her vision. My creation, the third of its kind in a carefully controlled genesis within a lab, was part of that grand design from the beginning of humanity. A hope for a future, much like the first two were in the legends of the old ones.”

Liam’s analytical mind latched onto the scientific aspect. “So, you’re like… a super-human?”

Bari chuckled softly, a hint of irony in his voice. “ In a way. But the ‘super’ part came with a heavy cost. I was… sculpted, you might say, like a piece of living art, nurtured in an artificial womb until… until Alana (my first mother) was implanted. She carried me to term, and I was born naturally, like any other baby. And then, placed into their care.”

Anya’s voice softened with concern. “Your parents?”

A shadow crossed Bari’s face, a flicker of ancient sorrow in his eyes. “Not… not in the way you understand. They were part of the experiment, you see. Chosen, altered a little themselves, to be my guardians. To raise this ageless child. To teach me how to be human. Their names were Tomas and… Alana, as mentioned. They were young, barely in their twenties, when they were given this immense responsibility.”

As he spoke, a holographic image shimmered into existence, filling the space with a vibrant, almost tactile recreation of the 15th-century Canadian wilderness. Towering pines reached towards a vast, untamed sky. A small, rough-hewn cabin stood nestled beside a rushing river. Two figures, Alana and Tomas, stood beside a young Bari, who appeared to be around five years old, his eyes wide with curiosity and an unnerving intelligence.

Elara gazed at the image, her voice hushed with a newfound understanding. “They look so… young.”

Bari’s voice softened, tinged with a deep affection as he looked at the two figures in the image. “They were. For a time. But this land… it was harsh. Even for them, modified as they were. The winters were brutal, unforgiving. Disease, the constant threat of starvation, the dangers of the wilderness… it took its toll. They aged quickly in this primitive world, their enhanced biology struggling against the relentless forces of nature.”

Liam, ever the scientist, frowned slightly. “What happened?”

Bari’s gaze drifted back to the holographic image, his face etched with a pain that spanned centuries. “Tomas… he was hunting, trying to provide for us. A simple accident, a moment of carelessness. A Grizzly bear crushed him. I was barely a teenager, forced to bury the first man I ever knew as father. Alana, she succumbed to a fever a few years later, a sickness that even their enhanced biology couldn’t fight. I was alone.”

The hologram shifted, the vibrant wilderness fading into a more somber scene. Bari, now appearing as a young man in his late teens, stood alone in front of the cabin, his shoulders slumped with a grief that seemed too profound for his age. The firelight cast long shadows, emphasizing his isolation.

Anya’s voice trembled with empathy. “Grandpa, that’s… that’s awful.”

Bari looked at his grandchildren, his expression a mixture of sorrow and resilience. “It was. Imagine being seventeen, but with the knowledge and experience of a lifetime. With a mind that never stops growing, never stops learning. And the grief of losing the only people you’ve ever known as parents, not once, but twice. But I had to survive. I had to hide my eternal self from a world that wouldn’t understand. Even I didn’t really understand. “

Elara leaned forward, her initial skepticism replaced with a growing fascination. “How did you hide?”

A wry chuckle escaped Bari’s lips, a sound that held both amusement and a hint of bitterness. “I became a ghost. A whisper in the wind. I changed my name, my appearance, constantly. It was easier in the beginning as I learned to blend, to adapt, to become invisible. I became a carpenter, a trapper, a teacher, a doctor and even a scientist. I immersed myself in every facet of human existence. The world changed around me, at a breathtaking pace. Cities grew like sprawling metal forests, technology advanced in leaps and bounds, and I was always on the outside, watching. Always alone.”

The hologram transformed into a rapid montage of images, flashing through different eras and locations. Bari appeared as a fur trader in the Wild West, his face weathered and hardened; a stoic schoolteacher in the early 20th century, his eyes filled with a quiet sadness; an inventor in the roaring twenties, his movements fluid and graceful.

Liam, his eyes wide with disbelief, pointed at one of the images. “The Wild West? You were there?”

Bari’s lips curved into a ghost of a smile. “Briefly. It was… chaotic. A land of violence and opportunity, of breathtaking landscapes and brutal realities. Let’s just say survival skills were essential. And discretion even more so. He paused, chuckling softly, a hint of reminiscence in his voice. “My goodness, I accidentally ran into Doc Holliday once.”

Elara was stunned. “You’ve met Doc Holliday? What happened?”

Bari nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Let’s just say it was a… precarious situation. Let’s leave it at that.”

Anya, her voice filled with a growing concern, asked the question that was on all their minds. “But didn’t you ever want a real family? A connection that lasted?”

Bari’s voice softened, the agelessness in his eyes shimmering with a deep longing. “More than anything. The ache for belonging, for love, for a connection that transcended the fleeting nature of human life… it was a constant hunger. Eventually, I tried again. In the 1950s, I met Evelyn. Your great-grandmother.”

A new holographic image appeared, bathed in the warm glow of a 1950s sunset. A young, vibrant woman with a radiant smile stood beside a slightly younger Bari, his expression softened by a genuine affection.

Elara gazed at the image, a soft smile gracing her lips. “She’s beautiful.”

“She was,” Bari confirmed, a tender smile gracing his face. “An extraordinary woman. We built a life, a family. I told her… a version of the truth. Enough to explain my… longevity, but not the whole story. I told her I had a rare genetic condition that slowed my aging.”

Liam frowned, his scientific mind grappling with the implications. “And she accepted it?”

Bari’s smile faded slightly, a hint of sadness in his voice. “She did. Love… it can make people accept extraordinary things. But even then, it was a risk. A constant tightrope walk. Every year that passed, the fear of exposure grew, the knowledge that I would likely outlive her by centuries, watch her children, and grandchildren grow old and die.”

Anya, ever sensitive, reached out and took Bari’s hand. “What about… our parents? Did they know?”

Bari sighed, his gaze sweeping over his grandchildren. “They knew some. Enough to understand that I was… different. That I carried a secret. But the full truth… that was a burden I carried mostly alone. A heavy weight, a constant companion. Until now. Until you.”

The hologram faded, the images of the past dissolving into the warm, comforting light of the 2025 living room. Bari sat surrounded by his grandchildren, their faces filled with a mixture of shock, wonder, and a burgeoning understanding.

Elara, her voice trembling slightly, voiced the question that hung heavy in the air. “Grandpa, all this time… you were alone?”

Bari looked at them, his expression shifting, a flicker of that ancient weariness returning to his eyes. He squeezed their hands gently, his touch conveying a weight of experience that transcended words. “Alone…yes…even today it lingers, ” he murmured, the word hanging in the air, ” For centuries. And there are… there are days when you believe you will never love again, never truly connect. The silence… it can be a heavy burden.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at his grandchildren, his eyes now filled with a profound love and a hint of relief. “Not anymore. I have you. And finally, after centuries of silence, the truth is coming out. The time of shadows is ending.”

Liam, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward, his expression serious. “But why now? Why are they telling us all this? Why reveal yourself after so long?”

Bari’s gaze swept over them, his eyes filled with a gravity that transcended his apparent age. “Because, my dears, the time of hiding is over. The future of humanity, the future of the galaxy… it’s all about to change. A storm is coming, a reckoning. And you, my grandchildren, you are part of that change. You are the inheritors of this legacy, the bridge between two worlds.”

Bari Marcus Anthony

A Lingering Question…

The tale you have just read is a work of speculative narrative, woven from threads of history, mystery, and the enduring human fascination with the unknown. It invites you to ponder the boundaries of possibility, to question the nature of our origins, and to consider the potential that may lie hidden, just beyond the veil of our perception.

Is it a fiction, a mere flight of fancy? Or could there be a kernel of truth buried within its depths? Perhaps, in the whispers of ancient legends and the shadows of forgotten archives, lies a reality far stranger than we dare to imagine. The choice, ultimately, is yours. But as you ponder the fate of Bari and the children of Atum, consider this: some stories are not meant to be simply believed or disbelieved. They are meant to be felt. And some truths, perhaps, are best found not in the light of day, but in the twilight of uncertainty. Even as we approach Easter, a time when the story of Jesus’s resurrection reminds us that life can emerge from death, and light from darkness, we are reminded that anything is possible. May you ponder this mystery, and the potential for wonders yet unseen.

Whatever you decide have a wonderful Easter with your family

A Call to You, the Reader:

What do you believe? Is the story of Easter a fable, or a profound truth? We invite you to share your thoughts and reflections in the comments below. Let us know what aspects of this story resonated with you, and what questions it raised about the nature of belief, history, and the mysteries that lie just beyond our understanding.

Copyright:

© 2025 Bari Marcus Anthony. All rights reserved.