:: Random Item—Abacus of Hayat ::

Abacus of Hayat

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/23/15

Tools: Mathematics

Color: Bronze

Conditions: Ancient, Dull

Keyword: Blood

Among the valuables in the room, you see a square, free-standing bronze frame with thirteen horizontal rods going through it at regular intervals. Each of these bears seven dull bronze beads; five to one side, and two to the other side of a dividing sheet of bronze. A single bead on the bottom rod has been pushed to the right, where it shines with the same vibrant red as a glossy drop of fresh blood. Near the abacus, you see the remains of a corpse—evidently withered dry millennia ago—which appears to be pointing directly at the glossy red bead. On the tip of its finger, you notice a dessicated black pit the size of a small marble.

While “hayat” means blood, it is more literally translated as “life,” or “lifetime.” According to ancient mythology, the Goddess of Primordial Creation gave birth to the world and all that was, but still there was no life. Then, the God of Life created living creatures from clay and the “hayat” or blood of the goddess’ son, and this was the beginning of humankind. Thereafter, the sum total of all human lifetimes was measured on the abacus of the God of Life. As payment for his work, at the end of each solar cycle he would subtract one “hayat” or life from his abacus, and one man would die while the rest would live another year.

Keen to cheat death, a man known as El R’shesh made his own abacus. He then found the oldest man alive and did a great service for him, only asking one hayat as payment. The old man knew that he would be the next to pay the God of Life, and so he agreed, adding his hayat to El R’shesh’s abacus. Thus El R’shesh cheated the God of Life out of his yearly wage, and planned to cheat death forever.

El R’shesh’s plan might have worked, too, had it not been for the goddess. Angry with the man for misusing the gift of her son’s blood, the goddess cursed El R’shesh’s abacus so the God of Life would take away only his hayat at the end of every year. Year after year, El R’shesh was forced to add another year to his abacus in order to avoid death. But, wishing to avoid the wrath of the gods, many refused to pay El R’shesh for his services, and the count on his abacus slowly diminished.

In time, El R’shesh only had two hayat remaining: his own, and one on his abacus. At the end of the year, however, he failed to restore his hayat, and the God of Life took him as payment at last. The Abacus of Hayat, they say, found its way into other hands since then. But it always carried the curse of the goddess: the bearer was doomed to be the next to die.