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6 books
Richard Sharpe Shaver (October 8, 1907 – November 5, 1975) was an American writer and artist who achieved notoriety in the years following World War II as the author of controversial stories which were printed in science fiction magazines (primarily Amazing Stories). Shaver claimed that he had personal experience of a sinister ancient civilization that harbored fantastic technology in caverns under the earth. The controversy stemmed from the claim by Shaver, and his editor and publisher Ray Palmer, that Shaver's writings, while presented in the guise of fiction, were fundamentally true. Shaver's stories were promoted by Ray Palmer as "The Shaver Mystery". During the last decades of his life, Shaver devoted himself to "rock books" – stones that he believed had been created by the advanced ancient races and were embedded with legible pictures and texts. He produced paintings allegedly based on the rocks' images and photographed them extensively, as well as writing about them. Posthumously, Shaver has gained a reputation as an artist; his paintings and photos have been exhibited in Los Angeles, New York and elsewhere.
The voices came from beings I came to realize were not human; not normal modern men at all. They lived in great caves far beneath the surface. These alien minds I listened to seemed to know that they had great power, seemed conscious of the fact that they were evil. However, they also seemed to think themselves infinitely clever, but the truth of the matter was that they were obviously stupid. I discovered this from listening carefully. Their thoughts were incredibly contradictory: to make things worse was to get along better, to make enemies was to be more powerful, to torment anyone was a personal satisfaction, to love any living thing was weak and stupid. Who were these voices? Where were they? It took me several years to figure it out, but finally I was successful. And when I finally had learned the truth, they knew that I had discovered it, was becoming informed as to them, their place of residence, their mode of living, their evil thoughts. And since fear is one of their mainsprings, they feared me.
The prince with the red hair also lifted a beckoning finger that gestured to a nearby chair over which lay a network of fine wires that led to a cable lying on the floor. Lori bent a suspicious look at the wires that seemed to promise trickery, but the maiden pushed him back gently and he sank into the chair. Another slave girl approached and laced upon his head an odd-shaped metal cap, smiling as she did so. He heard a light whisper in his own familiar tongue as she bent over him. “Be not afraid. The Red One is kindly. You have nothing to fear from these wires.” Lori stiffened, still suspicious, and sat motionless, awaiting the event. He became aware of a silvery mist that began to form between himself and the throned prince, a mist that as it grew thicker shaped strangely into pictures and words and he realized with a start that the pictures came from his own mind as did the thoughts there framed into words. At this betraying mist the Red One looked long, reading his captive’s inmost self. Then words issued absently from his lips, as if he spoke only to himself.
These mechs—rays—stim—have been used always as the forbidden fruit of life, the last treasure in the temple of secrecy which has consumed the ancient science. The orgies which the uses of such stimulants inspire have been going on secretly since the earliest times—beneath the temples and in the secret pleasure palaces of the world. (Shaver here seems to be talking of our modern world, not of ancient Mu. —Ed.) These orgies still go on, and are more deadly than before—more filled with de accumulated in the apparatus, the stim itself concealing the deadly rays whose effect is explained as the sad results of overindulgence; which is untrue—the stim is a beneficial of great virtue and leaves one stronger and wiser after use. “The legend of the sirens is an example of ancient mechs which no one could resist—in the hands of evil degenerates it became a deadly attraction—drawing shiploads of men to death and the ships to looting. “The course of history, the battles, the decisions of tyrants and kings—was almost invariably decided by interfering control from the caverns and their hidden apparatus. This interference, this use of the apparatus in a prankish, evil, destructive way, is the source of god worship, the thrill of divinity, the sensing of the invisible, the prostration of the will before the stronger will of the ray gen (hidden and unknown as it was). “The remarkable part of it all is that it still goes on today. Emotional and mental stim—unsuspected by such as you and the average citizen—used in mad prankishness, all come from the ancient apparatus. If you will remember your stage fright in the school play, the many other times when your emotions seem to have gone awry without sufficient reason—were these natural? “The dero of the caves are the greatest menace to our happiness and progress; the cause of many mad things that happen to us, even so far as murder. Many people know something of it, but they say they do not. They are lying. They fear to be called mad, or to be held up to ridicule. Examine your own memory carefully. You will find many evidences of outside stim, some good, some evil—but mostly evil.
The voices came from beings I came to realize were not human; not normal modern men at all. They lived in great caves far beneath the surface. These alien minds I listened to seemed to know that they had great power, seemed conscious of the fact that they were evil. However, they also seemed to think themselves infinitely clever, but the truth of the matter was that they were obviously stupid. I discovered this from listening carefully. Their thoughts were incredibly contradictory: to make things worse was to get along better, to make enemies was to be more powerful, to torment anyone was a personal satisfaction, to love any living thing was weak and stupid. Who were these voices? Where were they? It took me several years to figure it out, but finally I was successful. And when I finally had learned the truth, they knew that I had discovered it, was becoming informed as to them, their place of residence, their mode of living, their evil thoughts. And since fear is one of their mainsprings, they feared me.
The prince with the red hair also lifted a beckoning finger that gestured to a nearby chair over which lay a network of fine wires that led to a cable lying on the floor. Lori bent a suspicious look at the wires that seemed to promise trickery, but the maiden pushed him back gently and he sank into the chair. Another slave girl approached and laced upon his head an odd-shaped metal cap, smiling as she did so. He heard a light whisper in his own familiar tongue as she bent over him. “Be not afraid. The Red One is kindly. You have nothing to fear from these wires.” Lori stiffened, still suspicious, and sat motionless, awaiting the event. He became aware of a silvery mist that began to form between himself and the throned prince, a mist that as it grew thicker shaped strangely into pictures and words and he realized with a start that the pictures came from his own mind as did the thoughts there framed into words. At this betraying mist the Red One looked long, reading his captive’s inmost self. Then words issued absently from his lips, as if he spoke only to himself.
These mechs—rays—stim—have been used always as the forbidden fruit of life, the last treasure in the temple of secrecy which has consumed the ancient science. The orgies which the uses of such stimulants inspire have been going on secretly since the earliest times—beneath the temples and in the secret pleasure palaces of the world. (Shaver here seems to be talking of our modern world, not of ancient Mu. —Ed.) These orgies still go on, and are more deadly than before—more filled with de accumulated in the apparatus, the stim itself concealing the deadly rays whose effect is explained as the sad results of overindulgence; which is untrue—the stim is a beneficial of great virtue and leaves one stronger and wiser after use. “The legend of the sirens is an example of ancient mechs which no one could resist—in the hands of evil degenerates it became a deadly attraction—drawing shiploads of men to death and the ships to looting. “The course of history, the battles, the decisions of tyrants and kings—was almost invariably decided by interfering control from the caverns and their hidden apparatus. This interference, this use of the apparatus in a prankish, evil, destructive way, is the source of god worship, the thrill of divinity, the sensing of the invisible, the prostration of the will before the stronger will of the ray gen (hidden and unknown as it was). “The remarkable part of it all is that it still goes on today. Emotional and mental stim—unsuspected by such as you and the average citizen—used in mad prankishness, all come from the ancient apparatus. If you will remember your stage fright in the school play, the many other times when your emotions seem to have gone awry without sufficient reason—were these natural? “The dero of the caves are the greatest menace to our happiness and progress; the cause of many mad things that happen to us, even so far as murder. Many people know something of it, but they say they do not. They are lying. They fear to be called mad, or to be held up to ridicule. Examine your own memory carefully. You will find many evidences of outside stim, some good, some evil—but mostly evil.
