Over.

Subject: All About Richard Shaver. Nov.25, 2007.

Here is something sent to me by a friend of mine dealing

with Richard Shaver. I communicated with Richard while he

was still alive by regular mail. He even sent me some

rocks that had information contained on and in them.

On with our story at hand.

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For those of you who have never heard of "I Remember

Lemuria" by Richard Shaver, it is the story that started

the world talking about underground civilizations back in

the 1940's.

--DK

I Remember Lemuria

by Richard S. Shaver

Evanston Ill.: Venture Books

[1948]

Scanned, proofed and formatted by John Bruno Hare at

sacred-texts.com, November 2007. This text is in the public

domain in the US because its copyright was not renewed in a

timely fashion at the US copyright office.

These files may be used for any purpose.

From

sacred-texts.com

FOREWORD

Perhaps my parents never realized the puns that would be

made on my name when they christened me Richard Sharpe

Shaver. Under ordinary circumstances the puns would have

been of little consequence, but because of the amazing fact

of my amazing memory of the life of another person, long

dead, it has been incredibly hard for me to speak

convincingly and to make people believe in me. Invariably I

get that oh-so-funny remark, "Sharp-shaver, eh? A regular

cut-up, eh, kid!" accompanied by a sly dig in the ribs and

a very stupid, "Get it?" How can a man get a serious

audience after that?

And yet, there it is for all who wish--to pun and pun

again. If I achieve nothing else at least you may laugh,

and to laugh is to be physically and mentally healthy. For

those of you who will read on and carefully weigh what I am

about to tell you I am convinced there will be no thought

of puns.

Instead, when you consider the real truths behind what I

say--and even better, experiment and study to corroborate

them--it seems to me to be inevitable that you will forget

that I am Richard Sharpe Shaver, and instead, am what

science chooses to very vaguely define as the racial memory

receptacle of a man (or should I say a being?) named Mutan

Mion, who lived many thousands of years ago in Sub Atlan,

one of the great cities of ancient Lemuria!

I myself cannot explain it. I know only that I remember

Lemuria! Remember it with a faithfulness that I accept with

the absolute conviction of a fanatic.

And yet, I am not a fanatic; I am a simple man, a worker

in metal, employed in a steel mill in Pennsylvania. I am as

normal as any of you who read this and gifted with much

less imagination than most of you!

What I tell you is not fiction! How can I impress that on

you as forcibly as I feel it must be impressed? But then,

what good to impress it upon those who will crack wise

about me being a "sharp-shaver"? I can only hope that when

I have told the story of Mutan Mion as I remember it you

will believe--not because I sound convincing or tell my

story in a convincing manner, but because you will see the

truth in what I say, and will realize, as you must, that

many of the things I tell you are not a matter of present

day scientific knowledge and yet are true!

I fervently hope that such great minds as Einstein,

Carrel, and the late Crile check the things that I

remember. I am no mathematician; I am no scientist. I have

studied all the scientific books I can get--only to become

more and more convinced that I remember true things. But

surely someone can definitely say that I am wrong or that I

am right, especially in such things as the true nature of

gravity, or matter, of light, of the cause of age and many

other things that the memory of Mutan Mion has expressed to

me so definitely as to be conviction itself.

I intend to put down these things, and I invite--

challenge!--any of you to work on them; to prove or

disprove, as you like. Whatever your goal, I do not care. I

care only that you believe me or disbelieve me with enough

fervor to do some real work on those things I will

propound. The final result may well stagger the science of

the world.

I want to thank editor Ray Palmer, in whose "fiction"

magazine, Amazing Stories, the stories in this book were

first published, for his open mind and for the way he has

received the things I have told him in addition to what I

have written in this story of Mutan Mion of ancient

Lemuria. It began when he published my ancient alphabet in

"Discussions" [ 1] and requested the readers to carry out

checks of their own. I myself did not realize the extent of

the alphabetic (more properly phonetic) language. But

surely there must be tremendous significance in the fact

that the alphabet fits into every language to which it has

been applied, to the amazing percentage of 75% in the

German to 94% in the ancient Egyptian! Even in Chinese and

Japanese it ranked consistent nine out of ten times.

To me it is tragic that the only way I can tell my story

is in the guise of fiction. And yet, I am thankful for the

opportunity to do even this; and to editor Ray Palmer I

express my unbounded gratitude. I know that if even a few

of you go to the lengths he has gone to check many of the

things I remember, a beginning will have been made to

something, the ending of which (if ending there is) awes me

beyond my poor power to express my feelings.

--RICHARD S. SHAVER.

# Footnotes #

^3:1 January, 1945 issue of AMAZING STORIES. Some of the

reports by readers were subsequently published, but the

great majority were not. These reports proved to be the

most amazing the editor has ever received on anything

published in his magazine. They would seem to indicate

beyond all doubt that the "ancient language" of Mr. Shaver

is part of an original "mother tongue" from which all

Earthly language, have sprung. For example, the name Mutan

Mion, broken down into the letters and sounds of this

ancient language becomes MU--"man"; T--"integration,"

"growth"; AN--"animal." MION means "manchild seed." So the

name means "man spore cultured to new forms by integration

growth forces." In other words, a synthetic mutation by the

use of force or rays.--Ed.

I REMEMBER LEMURIA

Thought Records from the Past Tell the Ancient Story of

Lemuria which Some Call Mu or Pan.

--By Richard S. Shaver

CHAPTER I

City of the Titans

I was working in the studio of Artan Gro when I heard a

great laugh behind me. If ever there was derision in a

laugh, there was derision in this one. I flung down my

gaudy brushes and my palette and turned about in a rage--to

find the master himself, his red cave of a mouth wide open

in his black beard. I cooled my temper with an effort; for

great indeed is Artan Gro, master artist of Sub Atlan.

"I am sorry, Mutan Mion," he gasped, "but I can't control

my laughter. No one ever has conceived, much less executed,

anything worse than what you have put upon canvas! What do

you call it, 'Proteus in a Convulsive Nightmare'?"

But Artan Gro could control himself, I was sure. It is

one of the things I have learned of the really great in the

arts; they make no pretenses. He was laughing because he

wanted to tell me frankly what he thought of my ability as

an artist. It is bad enough when your friends mock your

work (and they had), but when the master is convulsed with

laughter it is high time to wake up to the truth.

"It is true, great Artan Gro," I said humbly. "I want to

paint but I cannot.

I haven't the ability."

Artan Gro's expression softened. He smiled, and as he

smiled it was as though he had turned on the sunlight.

"Go," he said, "go; to the deeper caverns at Mu's center.

Once there study science; learn to mix the potions that

give the brain greater awareness, a better rate of growth."

He patted my shoulder and added a last bit of advice. "Once

you have mixed the potions, take them. Drink them--and

grow!" He passed on, still chuckling.

Why is the truth always so brutal? Or does it just seem

brutal when it comes from those wiser than you? I slunk

from the studio; but I had already determined to take his

advice. I would go to Tean City, at Mu's center. I would go

to the science schools of the Titans.

Never before had I considered leaving Sub Atlan, my

birthplace, or as I should express it, my growth place, for

I am a culture man, a product of the laboratories. In

fact, I remember no other place on Mu, although it is a

fact that during the process of my development to culture

manhood,

I roamed the culture forests of Atlantis, [ 2] which is

the name for Surface

Atlan. Sub Atlan is just below Atlantis, while Tean City is

located at the center of Mu, at a great depth below Sub

Atlan. The walls of the great cavern in which Tean City is

located are hardened to untellable strength by treatment

with ray-flows which feed its growth until it is of great

density.

There are many other cities which grew through the

centuries to vast size, but none so great as Tean City.

Some are abandoned, but all are indestructible; their

cavern walls too dense to penetrate or to collapse.

Since Tean City is located near the center of Mother Mu,

gravity neutralizes itself by opposition. It is very

comfortable. Many of the Titans live there, and in fact,

it is almost a Titan city. There also are the mighty ones,

the Elders of the Atlan race's government. Huge they are,

like great trees, many centuries old and still growing. I

had long wished to see them, and now that

I had decided to go, the thrill was greater than any I had

ever experienced,

I was going down into the city of many wonders!

Part 1.

John Winston. johnfw@mlode.com

Subject: All About Richard Shaver. Part 2. Nov. 26, 2007.

My first posting about this subject should have been

called Part 1 but I made a mistake and called it Part 2

at the end of the posting. We will now put down the

real Part 2.

This talks about a strange looking creature he met.

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Out on the street I took one of the many vehicles that

are provided for travel about the city. These vehicles,

their weight reduced by a gravity deflection device, are

powered by motors whose energy is derived from a gravity

focusing magnetic field, by which one side of a flywheel

becomes much heavier than the other. This is accomplished

by bending gravity fall [ 3] in the same way that a lens

bends a light ray.

The topless [ 4] buildings of Sub Atlan fled by me; and

soon I neared the squat entrance to the shafts that fell

from Sub Atlan to Center Mu, to Tean City, home of the

Titans. [ 5] I knew that swift elevators dropped down these

shafts; but I had never traveled in one of them.

Because I knew the control-man of one of the elevators,

having talked with him often of Tean City and the wonders

he had seen in it, I went to his shaft for my descent. He

was glad to see me, and very much surprised to learn that I

was going to Tean City.

"You will never regret it!" he declared.

The car dropped sickeningly, so swiftly that a great fear

grew in me that I would be crushed by deceleration when we

finally stopped. In panic I watched an indicator's two

hands move slowly toward each other as though to cover its

face in shame. Then, with little sensation, the car

stopped. Here at the center of Mu I had become nearly

weightless and the ceasing of even such swift motion did

not have ill effects upon my weightless body. I knew that I

would not have that fear again.

Two fat Atlans stepped out of the car ahead of me,

sighing with relief at their renewed weightlessness, which

they had obviously been anticipating. As I was about to

follow them from the car, the control-man drew me aside.

"Fear rides the ways down here," he whispered, his

sharp-pointed, cat-like ears quivering an alert. "Fear is a

smell down here that is ever in the nose--a bad smell, too.

Try to figure it out while you are down here; and tell me,

too, if you get an answer."

I did not understand what he meant, but I promised

anyway. The smell of fear, in Tean City?

Immediately I was immersed in the sensually shocking

appeal of a variform crowd, mostly at this hour, a

shopping rush of female variforms. While there were many of

my own type, and of the elevator control-man's type, there

were a greater number of creatures of every shape the mind

could grasp and some that it could not. All were citizens;

all were animate and intelligent--hybrids of every r-ce

that space crossing had ever brought into contact, from

planets whose very names are now lost in time. The

technicons may have been wrong in the opinion of some when

they developed variform breeding; but they have certainly

given life variety. I had never seen so many variforms [ 6]

before.

At a corner of the vastly vaulted way where many rollat

platforms [ 7] crossed and recrossed each other, I stepped

to a telescreen and dialed the student center. The image of

a tremendous six-armed Sybyl female filled the screen and

the electrically augmented body appeal of the mighty life

within her seized the youth in me and wrung it as no

embrace from lesser female ever had.

"And what" her voice shook me as a leaf in an organ pipe

"might a pale and puny male like you want in Tean City? You

look as if you never had enough to eat, as if lo-e had

passed you by. Did you come down here because no one wanted

you elsewhere?"

I grinned self-consciously back at her image, my voice a

feeble piping in comparison to hers.

"I have come to learn something beside drawing lines

around dreams. I am a painter from the subsurface who has

decided that knowledge of actual growth is more important

than the false growth of an untrue image upon a canvas." I

wondered what the master would have said to hear me.

"You are right," she boomed back, her six arms engaged in

complex wand mysterious movements, picking up and laying

down instruments and tools in bewildering rapidity, her

attention elsewhere yet enough remaining on me to hold me

bound in an attraction as strong as a towing cable. She was

a forty foot Titan, her age unknowable. As I thought upon

this and tried not to think of the immense beauty and life

force of her, I suddenly realized she was hiding fear. I

have a peculiar faculty for sensing hidden emotions. That

bluff greeting had been a hidden wish to drive me from some

danger. But I did not speak of it, for I read that caution

in her; a very strong mental flow that fairly screamed

DON'T.

This kind of fear was a wonder and a new thing to me, for

danger was a thing long banished from our life. Then she

spoke, reluctantly it seemed.

"Go to the center of the Hall of Symbols. There you can

ask a student or an instructor who will tell you all you

need to know."

The grip of the woman life in her left my mind and she

was gone from my vision. As I turned from the telescreen my

mind insisted on visualizing that six-armed embrace and its

probable effect upon a man in l-ve. I shivered in spite of

the warmth, but not from fear. The b-ood of the Titans was

alive, I thought; strangely and wonderfully alive!

I stepped into a rollat at the curb, inspected the

directory, then inserted a coin and dialed the number of

the building that housed the Hall of Symbols. I leaned back

while the automatic drive of the rollat directed the car

through the speeding traffic, its electric eye more

efficient than my own.

Yes, much more efficient than my own at the moment, which

were wandering over the figure of a variform female on the

walk whose upper part was the perfect torso of a woman and

whose lower part was a sinuously gliding thirty feet of

brilliantly mottled snake. You could never have escaped her

embrace of your own will once she had wrapped those

life-generating coils around you!

I thought upon it. The gen of these variforms was

certainly more vital; possibly because the Titan technicons

Who lived here kept the people healthier. Perhaps the

hybrids were naturally more fecund of micro-spore. It had

indeed been a day of brainstorms, I mused, when some old

technicon had realized that not only would a strong

integrative field with a rich exd [ 8] supply cause all

matter to grow at an increased rate, but would also cause

even the most dissimilar life-gens to unite. It has been

the realization that had resulted in various form life.

Most of the crosses by this method had resulted in an

increased strength and fertility. They now were more

numerous than four-limbed men, and often superior in mental

ability.

Automatically my mind associated the embrace of the snake

woman with the six arms of the giant Sybyl of Info; and I

decided that I understood why Artan Gro had driven me here

with his scorn. If I didn't learn about life here I never

would anywhere. That had been what he had reasoned.

Soon I was striding between the pillaring fangs of the

great beast's mouth that was the door of the Hall of

Symbols where the school ways converged.

About was the bustle attendant to any rollat way station;

bearers rushing; travelers gazing about lost in wonder at

the vaulting glitter of sculptured pillars and painted

walls, done by men of a calibre whose work was [ 9] like

myself cannot grasp entirely.

Paintings and sculpture here hammered into the brain a

message of the richness of life that immense mutual effort

can give the lift unit, the pro.

This richness of life was pictured in a terrible clash

with e-il, its opposite. [ 10] The hot fecundity of life

and health growth was a sensuous blow upon the eyes, the

so-l leaped to take a hand and make life yet more

worthwhile. I could not cease gazing at the leaping vault

of pictured busy figures whose movements culminated in that

offer to the s-irit of man to join them in moulding life to

a fit shape.

My rapt study of the paintings was interrupted by the

sound of a pair of hooves that clicked daintily to a stop

beside me. I glanced at the newcomer, who had stopped to

stare up at the paintings also in that curious way that

people have when they see another craning his neck--and my

glance became a stare.

What was the use of aspiring to be an artist, my reason

said, if those great masters who had placed that mighty

picture book on the vaulting walls above were so easily

outdone by the life force itself!

She was but a girl, younger than myself, but what a girl!

Her body was encased in a transparent glitter; her skin a

rosy pale purple; her legs, mottled with w-ite, ended in a

pair of cloven hooves. And as my brain struggled to grasp

her colorful young perfection--she wagged her tail!

It was all too much. Speculating about the

life-generating force possible in the variform creatures

was one thing; but having it materialize beside you was

another thing entirely. Such a beautiful tail it was. Of

the softest, most beautiful fur.

"What were you staring at?" she asked. "The paintings?"

I stuttered, then answered. "The paintings... I guess...

yes, the paintings.

I'm a... painter... was a painter..." I gave up. I

couldn't talk, I had to look.

Part 2.

John Winston. johnfw@mlode.com

Subject: All About Richard Shaver. Part 4, Nov. 27, 2007.

This says that they had distillation of water back then.

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And so she took me into the medical school and directed

me to her own teacher. I became a member of the class

immediately and discovered that I had entered upon the

opening discourse.

The class was dominated by the immense presence of the

teacher, a son of the Titans, bearded and horned,

expounding in the exact syllogism of the technicon

training. As he spoke, I became certain that this dynamo

of human force should soon charge such a small battery as

myself with everything in the way of knowledge I could

assimilate.

There was only one slight disturbing factor. Just as I

had sensed a strange, deeply buried and s-cret fear in the

Sybyl, I knew that in the mind of this great son of the

Titans there was a gnawing something that a part of his

brain dwelt on continually. Fear was a smell that was ever

in the nose down here in Tean City. The realization

disturbed me so much that I failed to absorb a portion of

the teacher's discourse. My absorption must have caught his

attention, too, for I saw him staring disapprovingly at me.

With a start, I re-concentrated my mind on what he was

saying.

". . . a great cold ball hung in space. Once it had been

a mighty, living planet, swinging ponderously around a

dying sun that it had never seen, being covered with

clouds. Then that sun had gone out, and the deadly ter

[ 12] stiffened the surface life into glittering death.

"The planet's forests, which had lived in dense, dripping

fog, had, in their many ages of life, deposited coal beds

untold miles in depth--clear down to the stony core of the

planet. No fire had ever touched these forests, because the

dense fog had never allowed fire to burn.

"Venus, our nearest neighbor in space, is such a planet

now, although much smaller. As it is on Venus, so it was on

the unknown planet.

"Hanging in space the dead immensity of this ball was

largely potential heat, for its tremendously thick shell

was mostly pure carbon.

"Such once was the sun, your sun and mine; the sun of

which Mu is a daughter.

"Then a blazing meteor, spewed violently from some sun in

space, came flaming toward this cold ball. Deep it plunged

into the beds of carbon. The fire spread

swiftly--an ever-fire of disintegrance, not the

passing-fire of combustion--and our sun was born into

live-giving flame!

"A carbon fire is a clean fire and contains no dense

metals like radium, titanium, uranium, polonium--whose

emanations in disintegrance in suns cause old age and d-ath

because minute particles given off accumulate and convey

the ever-fire into the body, there to ki-l it in time.

"Then sun heat was clean, and life sprang furiously into

being on its daughter, Mu's surface. Nor did this life

die--de-th came only by being eaten. Then life suffered old

age not at all, for there was no cause."

The voice of the teacher paused a moment, and now indeed

I knew that there was much for me to learn. Here was

something that struck deep into me with an instantly vital

interest. Most provoking of all was his peculiar emphasis

on the word "then." I could not help the question that

sprang to my lips.

"Why do you say 'Then life suffered old age not at all,

for there was no cause.'? Is there cause now?"

It was as though I had placed a torch beneath the hidden

fear in the Titan's eyes, for it flamed forth suddenly for

all to see; but it was as quickly quelled. All in the class

looked at me with that shocked expression which plainly

said I had overstepped my bounds; but in the eyes of Arl I

thought I saw the gleam of approval, and I found a dam to

hold back my ebbing courage.

The teacher looked at me, and I saw kindliness in his

eyes.

"You are new here, Mutan Mion. Therefore it is easy to

understand that you have not heard of the projected

migration of all Atlans to a new world under a beneficial

sun. . .

"Yes, young ro, there is cause." He was answering my

question with determination now, but he was not speaking to

me alone; he was making his answer a part of his discourse.

"I have spoken of the carbon fire as a clean fire. By

this I mean that the atoms of carbon, when disintegrated,

send forth the beneficial energy ash called exd which can

be assimilated by our bodies and used to promote

life-growth. However, the source of this ash is not carbon

alone, but all other elements excepting the heavy metals

such as I mentioned before. It is when these heavy elements

begin to disintegrate in the ever-fire that we come to the

cause of age.

"The particles of radium and other radioactive metals are

the poison that causes the aging of tissue. These

particles are thrown out by all old suns whose shell of

carbon has been partly or altogether burned away,

permitting the disintegrating fire to reach and seize upon

the heavy metals at the sun's core. Our sun has begun to

throw out great masses of these poisonous particles. They

fall upon Mu in a continual flood, entering into living

tissue and infecting it with the radioactive disease we

call age.

"Through the years, the centuries, these poisons

accumulate in the soil of the planet, and are continually

being washed out of it by the rains with the result that

all the water on Mu is becoming increasingly contaminated.

When these waters are drunk, the poisons accumulate in the

body, finally becoming numerous enough to completely halt

all growth and still worse, to prevent any effectual use of

exd, which is the food of all integration.

"The technicons, of course, have devised means to protect

us from the accumulation of the age poisons, but it has

become evident that their efforts are not entirely

foolproof. We have discovered that we are living on a world

that circles a sun that is growing old and is therefore

de-dly. We are living in the shadow of d-ath, a shadow that

will grow greater as the years pass until finally deah with

strike us all. We would, if we remained, not even begin to

live out our lives. Centuries and centuries would be lost

to us, and ultimately we might not even attain the initial

growth of maturity!"

Iventured another question.

"What methods have the technicons devised?"

"They are simple ones. Multiple distillation of the water

in which we drink and bathe; treatment of the water in a

centrifuge to remove the very finely divided age poisons

that cannot be removed by distillation; ben generators to

create a magnetic field of ben energies; air centrifuges to remove

poisons from the air. But I must impress upon you that it is impossible to

shield us from all of the age poison; from that small amount that actually

falls upon our own bodies and accumulates there as it does in the water.

Eventually, if we remain on Mu, we will grow old, [ 13] and finally die."

I looked him squarely in the eyes, respectful in a degree equal to the

kindly interest that shone in his as he returned my look.

"It is not the age poisons you fear," I accused.

He looked at me silently; and a flood of force seemed to

flow through me, encouraging me, protecting me, cautioning

me. It was the same feeling I had gotten from the Sybyl.

"Come, students," he said gently. "We will go now to the

embryo laboratory."

Before we entered the laboratory we were given nutrient

potions prescribed by the Titan for his students to make

them more receptive and hence his work easier. We were told

that we would receive these potions regularly. Even as I

took the first draught my brain throbbed with a new growth

of ideas and strange new images. I was exhilarated beyond

all imagining, and my enthusiasm knew no bounds. I took

Arl's hand in mine as we trooped into the laboratory.

It was truly a wonderful place, the most amazing I had

ever seen. I felt like a mite admitted to the

treasure-house of a giant. Here were things that were

beyond my intelligence to create of my own mind power; and

yet I was being given free and welcome access to all of

them, to learn from them, and to use the knowledge if I

wished in my future life and work.

Many strange machines filled the laboratory, all

performing tasks that I could only guess at. But these

machines were subordinate to the real science of this great

room, being designed only to chemically and electronically

nourish and develop the many human embryos that moved and

grew in synthetically duplicated mother-b-ood in sealed

bottles.

The older ones kicked and tugged healthily at the grafted

umbilical tube which supplied the life fluid--called Icor,

the "bl-od of the go-s." And it was this blo-d that was the

subject of the lecture the Titan now gave us.

He told us of the upkeep and preparation of this fluid,

both in the embryo and the adult; the difficult and

important part being (he now stressed his words with

greater emphasis with his attention bent especially toward

me) the process of detecting and removing the slightest

trace of the radio-active poisons that cause age.

I studied and I learned! These were the processes which

had given the planet Mu its health and enabled us to live

under more aging suns than other ra-es.

These were the life methods that had given us our

fecundity; which had populated space for thousands of

centuries with the seed of Atlan. I wanted to know all

there was to learn about them.

Part 4.

John Winston. johnfw@mlode.com