They've been translated and they tell exciting stories about how gods intermingled with human beings and actually had a hand in the creation of human beings. AI has just translated ancient Sumerian tablets and the results are terrifying. Buried in those clay lines was a version of human history that tears apart everything we've been taught. It points to an origin story we were never meant to see. One hidden for thousands of years. And now that it has been exposed, nothing about where we came from can ever be taken for granted again. The tablets that time locked away. For more than a century, archaeologists uncovered thousands of Sumerian texts from the ruins of Eridu and Nepur. Sumerian tablets are probably one of the oldest uh form of written record that we have. Many were broken into fragments while others sat untouched in museum storage rooms, untransated, mislabeled or forgotten. Cooney form, the world's oldest known writing system, was notoriously difficult to work with. Its symbols could shift in meaning depending on context, and many of its words had no modern equivalent. Even when the signs were legible, the grammar often made little sense. Generations of scholars spent entire careers translating only fragments, never managing to piece together a full picture. Because of this, the world never saw the story in its entirety. That changed in 2025. Machine learning models trained on thousands of cunoform inscriptions were released to researchers. These models did more than translate signs. They identified missing symbols, predicted broken endings, and cross-referenced dialects from Aadian, Babylonian, and Old Sumerian. Suddenly, tablets that had been silent for four millennia began to speak again, and what they revealed was nothing like what experts had expected. For years, these texts had been dismissed as poetic creation myths. But once AI restored and compared them, hidden details surfaced. The tablets contained records, detailed ones. They described labor systems, classifications of people, and procedures involving blood, clay, and purpose. Some tablets listed these details in repetitive sequences, while others told them in a narrative form. But across all of them, consistent patterns appeared. The first shock was the discovery of multiple origin stories. The tablets did not treat humanity as a single invention. They used different terms, each tied to a role or function. They spoke of shaping forms after the likeness of the divine, but dividing them immediately by purpose. Humanity, according to these texts, was not created as one people. It was separated from the very beginning and at least one group described more than once was created with obedience as its defining trait. Artificial intelligence flagged several recurring terms that stood out. One phrase loosely translated to functionbearing life. Another referred to those who do not multiply. A third chillingly was clay of lower glow. Scholars had long assumed these phrases were poetic or symbolic. But when AI reconstructed them in context, a different meaning appeared. And uh they are issued um quantities of lard along with other substances including what I've called potachsh. Some researchers now believe these lines describe early humans engineered without the ability to reproduce. If true, this would mean they were deliberately designed as a temporary workforce, never intended to survive long enough to pass their traits on. The more fragments AI restored, the clearer the overall message became. Humanity was not the product of a single act of creation. Instead, it was a process. People were shaped, adjusted, broken down, and rebuilt. Some versions were discarded entirely, erased before they could leave a lasting mark on history. The idea that our species was divided before it had even begun was once considered fringe speculation. Now, the tablets themselves pointed to it. There were classifications, names, and descriptions. And for the first time, there was technology powerful enough to stitch the fragments together into a coherent hole. AI had not invented these ideas. It had revealed them. It turned scattered myths into something closer to a blueprint. And that blueprint did more than describe how humans were created. It outlined with unsettling clarity what they were created to do. Humans were created, but not as one species. The myth was always simple. Gods made man from clay. But the newly decoded tablets tell a different story which is much more layered, one and far more disturbing. They don't describe one act of creation. They describe stages, trials, failed experiments, and most importantly, variations. Humans, according to these lines, weren't created as a single race. They were prototypes and models. Each batch is tailored to a different purpose. They weren't just made to work. There were specific physical functions assigned. The tablets also used different terms to describe these early humans. Words that until now had been assumed to mean people in general. But AI flagged differences. Some versions used lulu, a term loosely meaning man, while others used sag gigg, which one sumerologist long ago translated as the blackheaded people. No one paid attention to that phrase for decades. But AI connected it to a separate passage describing a group marked for toil with bodies molded from dark clay and eyes that do not question. Were these symbolic classes? Were they real physical traits? No one can say for sure. But the fact that the lines make such a clear distinction suggests something deeper. That even in humanity's first moments, there were categories and roles we were born into and never allowed to leave. And it doesn't stop there. Other tablets describe God's evaluating each group's performance. One passage talks about the clay of restless voice. a version of man that refused the order and was cast into the rivers. Another mentions a group whose limbs were too weak to bear tools and were sent back into the mountain to be forgotten. It's hard not to look at it and think of it as a kind of system or program. One that starts with a goal and solves it not by creating equals but by building specialized tools. Tools that looked like us. The tablets describe a region called Iden Flatland between two rivers considered to be a factory floor. And every time a group was made, the gods would test them, name them, and sometimes erase them. None of these patterns were clear before AI translated them side by side. Scholars saw isolated fragments, but now we're seeing what those fragments really were. And what they suggest is that there wasn't one origin of mankind. There were many, some erased, some modified, some still carrying the traits written into them from the start. The genetic modifications that followed. The first humans weren't enough. That's what the tablets say next. They worked. They obeyed. But they didn't last. They couldn't reproduce. Each one had to be made by hand, crafted from clay, blood, and divine command. They also weren't allowed to multiply. That limitation was part of the design. It kept the gods in control. But somewhere along the line, that control started to slip. The tablets don't explain why. Some believe it was rebellion. Others speak of exhaustion. Too many humans dying, too few being made fast enough. But the effort wasn't sustainable. And so another change was ordered. The tablets describe it plainly. Enki, the god of wisdom, decided to revise the model. What Enki did when he did a genetic modification, he added something extra in the genetic modification that his brother found out about. This time he wouldn't just make humans, he would upgrade them. The new version would be smarter, stronger, able to survive on its own, and most importantly, able to reproduce. A new being was created. His name was Adapa. Unlike the others, Adapa wasn't a laborer. He wasn't just shaped for toil. He was something more. Described in the texts as chief among men, Adipa was said to possess divine sight and words that moved the heavens. He could speak, reason, lead. His mind was sharp enough to understand the God's will and follow it. But even Adapa's wisdom came with limits. He was made to know much, but not all. And when the time came to test that obedience, the results were permanent. According to the tablets, the story goes like this. According to interpretations of the Samrian tablets, the gods were called the Anunnaki. Adapa was summoned to the heavens where Anu, the sky god, offered him the food of eternal life. But before he went, Enki warned him not to eat or drink and to refuse everything. So when the moment came, Adapa obeyed. He turned away immortality. And just like that, the chance to free humanity was lost. One decision, one command followed, and it sealed our fate. The tablets also revealed that Enki gave Adapa knowledge, but held back freedom. Whether it was a trick or a precaution, no one knows. But the result was simple. Humans would now live. They would grow, but they would also die always. That's what made Adipa different. He was the bridge, the split between tool and species. And his creation marked the start of something even more dangerous. Division. Because not everyone received the same upgrade. Some lines of humans remained bound, fixed to labor, unable to think beyond their tasks. Others, modeled after Adapa, were granted more autonomy. They could learn, adapt, even lead. That split barely visible in myth becomes obvious when seen through the AI's lens because now we can read all the references together. Now we can see which groups were permitted and which were only assigned. The roots of inequality go deeper than history. They go back to the first decisions not to give everyone the same chance. And those decisions would soon spark a war not just between humans and gods but between the gods themselves. Anunnaki divisions control versus freedom. Not all gods agreed on what humans should become. The Sumerian texts don't hide this part. They say clearly that there was a divide, a deep disagreement about whether humanity should stay bound to the task it was created for or be allowed to grow beyond it. On one side stood Enki, the same god who created Adapa, the one who gave humans reproduction, wisdom, and speech. Enki saw potential. He saw a species that could think, adapt, evolve. In some texts, he's even called father of humanity. His version of creation wasn't perfect, but it was merciful. On the other side stood Enlil. In the vast pantheon of ancient Sumerian deities, Enlil stood as a colossal figure embodying power and authority. The commander of divine order, the master of decrees, the god who demanded obedience above all else. Where Enki saw tools that could learn, Enlil saw chaos waiting to happen. He didn't trust humans. He didn't want them to grow, and he hated what Enk had done. The texts describe Enlil's anger as immediate and absolute. To Enlil, the humans were rebellious. They humans were breaking the design, disrupting the order. And Enki, in his eyes, had gone too far. So the gods began to divide. Some sided with Enki, quietly encouraging the growth of human knowledge. Others stayed loyal to Enlil, calling for restrictions, resets, and punishment. The result was a split not just in heaven but on earth. Some humans were guided in dreams, taught secrets of stars and seeds and given gifts of writing, counting, metal work. Others were suppressed, forced back into labor. Their lineages kept simple, silent, controlled. AI translations show striking differences in how early groups were treated. In one region, humans were described as keepers of the grain and makers of laws. In another, as those without name workers whose history was erased the moment they were born. This was controlled development and scripted inequality. And it was driven by a divine rift that only grew wider. At its peak, the tablets describe a breaking point. Enlil, furious that humans had continued to grow in numbers and skill, made a final decision to erase them through the great flood. Enlil's flood wasn't about cleansing the earth. Enlil wanted to destroy humanity. He decided to send a massive flood to wipe everything out. It was about ending a project gone too far, erasing what he saw as a failure and resetting the order. But again, Enki intervened. He found a man and warned him. That man known to later stories as Zusudra Utnapishtim or Noah became the last link in the human chain. Enki didn't save everyone. He couldn't. But he saved enough. Enough to carry the line forward and preserve the version of humanity he believed in. But the war didn't end. It only changed shape. Advanced tech in the wrong hands. The stories of creation were strange enough. But what came next was something else entirely. Deep in the tablets, tucked between creation hymns and divine lineages, were lines that didn't read like myths at all. They read like records and logs, descriptions of tools, materials, and systems that made no sense for their time. And now, with the help of AI, those lines are finally readable. And they're raising questions no one can fully answer. How could a civilization from 5,000 years ago describe flight? How could they know how metals react to heat? How could they speak of energy so bright it turned day into fire? One passage describes vehicles with wings of wood and metal roaring across the sky, guided not by wind, but by fire from within. Another speaks of a liquid metal sealed within a belly of heat, moved by pulse and thunder. For years, those phrases were dismissed as poetry. But when read side by side, AI recognized a pattern. Specific parts mentioned again and again. Wings, containers, heat, propulsion, thunder. The texts never said these devices were imagined. They said they were given by the gods, not to everyone, but to those considered worthy, those loyal to divine order, those who had proven themselves useful. Knowledge, according to the Sumerian tablets, wasn't discovered. It was distributed and then weaponized. AI flagged a cluster of lines describing a light that burned the earth and left no flesh behind. Another passage talks of mountains split with fire and cities that vanished in a single day. For mainstream scholars, these were always metaphors for storms or natural disasters. But others aren't so sure. Some researchers now believe the texts describe technologies we wouldn't see again for thousands of years. Metallurgy, energy projection, even atmospheric flight. And strangely, the knowledge wasn't evenly spread. Some human groups were given these tools. Others were deliberately denied them. What kind of civilization hands down metallurgy to one group and not even language to another? The answer, it seems, is a civilization that wasn't natural. One that was structured from the top down with humans placed not at the center but at the bottom. And even that structure wasn't equal. Some were meant to lead, others to serve. And the ones who questioned any of it, they disappeared from the record. One line simply reads, "They were shown the mountain, and the mountain did not return them." We don't know what that means. But we do know this. The more AI translates, the clearer the pattern becomes. Technology in the ancient world wasn't a miracle. It was a lever to separate one kind of human from another. And soon, that separation would go even deeper. not just into tasks, tools, or trust, but into time itself. The Sumerian warning. The Samrians weren't just builders, recordkeepers, or worshippers. They were watchers. That's what the tablets reveal once the AI pulls all the fragments together. The Samrians didn't just stare at the stars. They tracked them. For seven centuries straight, priests in cities like Ur and Babylon recorded eclipses, planetary alignments, even the subtle shifts of distant stars, all without telescopes, all without modern math. They believed the sky wasn't just decoration. It was a message board, and they were expecting something. The name that comes up again and again is Nibiru, which he believed were basically extraterrestrial entities from a planet called Nibiru, which he quite controversially believed actually exists in our solar system. A celestial body said to travel a massive orbit, one that returns every 3,600 years. Ancient scholars once treated it like a myth. But now, AI has detected something new. references to cycles and long-term patterns, warnings tied not just to Nibiru's return, but to its consequences. The texts don't describe Nibiru as a planet. They call it the crossing, the destroyer, the one who veils the light. And every time it passes, something changes. With AI reconstructing the missing lines, a pattern is emerging. The warnings weren't meant for everyone. Only certain humans were told. The texts describe those chosen by Enki as watchers, guardians, quiet observers who lived in the margins, passing down coded stories across generations. According to these translations, the return of Nibiru wasn't just destruction. It was a moment when the order was wiped clean and a new one took its place. And every time it happens, humanity forgets. and the stories dissolve. But one thing remains, the split. The idea that some groups were never meant to survive these resets. That ancient creators may have designed some people for extinction and others for continuity. Humanity's forgotten divisions. The Sumerian tablets do not describe humanity as a single unified creation. Instead, they present a picture of people being made in separate groups, each designed for a function, for obedience, and even for type. This division was not simply about culture or tribe. It appears to have been something far deeper, embedded in the earliest stages of human existence. The texts never use modern words like race or ethnicity. What they do use are classifications. These classifications are not random. They follow a pattern that repeats itself across dozens of surviving tablet fragments. These fragments come from different regions. Yet, they echo the same structure. In one passage, a group is called the clay of strength. Another passage refers to the blood of brightness. A third describes the shadowformed ones of silent hands. For many years, scholars assumed these phrases were poetic metaphors. But when artificial intelligence compared hundreds of these lines side by side, the context changed completely. The pattern was too deliberate to dismiss. Each group was given assigned traits, assigned duties, and even assigned limits. The clay of strength are described as minors and laborers. Becomes the story of our humanity. The Anunnaki literally came to earth to mine the gold. They were responsible for heavy physical work and there is no mention of them holding leadership roles or using language. The blood of brightness appear in priestly positions. They were responsible for writing, chanting, and tracking the stars. They held roles tied to ritual and learning. The shadowformed ones are described as keepers of animals. They were specifically forbidden from entering temples or handling sacred tools. The texts do not only describe duties. In some passages, these groups are linked to unusual physical traits as well. One description speaks of those from the scorched horizon marked by sun and earth. Another describes the pale dwelling ones born of stone and wind. A third mentions red soil walkers hardened in the land without water. For centuries, these names were read as poetic flourishes or symbolic categories. But AI's analysis shows a consistent overlap between these names, their duties, and their supposed physical features. Taken together, they no longer read as random mythology. They begin to resemble deliberate categories of people, each created for a purpose. This new understanding is possible because the tablets can now be read as a whole. Samrian tablets are probably one of the oldest uh form of a written record that we have. In the past, scholars worked with isolated fragments. A phrase from one city state might never be compared directly to a phrase from another. AI changed this by creating a single cross-referenced record through pattern recognition, language modeling, and sidebyside translations. The scattered fragments became part of a unified system. What once looked like scattered myths now reads more like a database of origins, and that database suggests something unsettling. Not every group was meant to develop in the same way. Some were taught language while others were not. Some were given astronomy while others were warned against looking upward. Some were allowed to have personal names. Others were identified only by the tasks they performed. The assignments were not equal and the limits were deliberate. If this system was intentional, then its implications are difficult to ignore. The foundation of what we now think of as race may not be the result of migration. mutation or chance. It may instead trace back to a structured system of control, one that began long before recorded history. Artificial intelligence did not invent this idea. It only uncovered the patterns that had always been there in the tablets. What we're looking at here is a Sumerian tablet that actually shows the tree of life. And those patterns suggest that humanity's divisions did not begin with borders, tribes, or wars. They began with orchestration and assignments. They began with deliberate choices made at the very start of human existence. And those choices written into the earliest records point to a conclusion that is difficult to escape. The hands that shaped the first of us may have never intended us to be equal. The AI era begins. We were never supposed to see the full story. For thousands of years, the tablets sat half buried in ruins. Those who found them couldn't read them. Those who read them couldn't finish them. And those who finished them could never put the pieces together until now. But who was this information meant for? Why was it buried? And why after thousands of years is it resurfacing now? Some scholars say this is just a myth that the stories were always symbolic that the gods never existed that the lines about roles and races are just ancient metaphors for power. Others aren't so sure because when you line the myth against the archaeology, and you compare the descriptions to the migrations, the bloodlines, the inexplicable jumps in human development. The match is unsettling. This isn't about whether Enki and Enlil were real. It's about whether someone or something structured the origin of our species with an end goal in mind. What do we become? What started off as an innocent AI translation turned out to be a mirror into our humanity. The Sumerianss didn't just leave behind clay and symbols. They left a record of control, a history of division and a warning we almost missed. What do we do with this? What changes when a species learns the truth about why it was made and which version of us was meant to survive?