Coping while in chrysalis

Background

While my story is filled with all sorts of issues and elements, this particular article will discuss a time in my life where I was in the “Parole System”.

When I was “retired” from three decades in the MAJ (which is a branch of the ONI) under the United States department of the Navy, I was placed under the control of the Arkansas state prison system. Also known as “the ADC”. And under that system, I was accused, tried, convicted, and sent off to be a “sex offender” working at hard labor.

I spent roughly two years in the hot Arkansas sun and then was granted parole. This is the story of that brief period of time. Roughly two years in duration, before I returned back to the ADC to finish my sentence

My story

In my darkest days while I was still in the Prison system, I was granted parole under very rigid limitations on everything that I could do. Parole is a good thing. We all wanted it. It was the “rehabilitation” portion of our prison sentence. While “hard labor” was the punishment phase.

Parole can ONLY be granted to a relative or a close friend (with no criminal background). Barring that, you can be sent to a “half way” house. That is, as long as you are not a “sex offender”.

Quick Tip
Half-way houses, religious organizations (that accept federal funding), state organizations, or private organizations (that accept state funding) are barred from accepting "sex offenders".

I had one option. My father.

And he gladly took on that role, and welcomed me into his house. He did so under the objections of my step-mother who grudgingly went along with the arrangement.

From left to right; My step-mother, My father, and then me (MM) way off to the right.

Terms of Parole

Under parole my freedom was severely curtailed.

I couldn’t have a cell phone, or be near one. I couldn’t go to a restaurant that served alcohol, nor could I apply for a job that had access to a telephone, computer, printer, or camera. And I couldn’t watch any movies unless it was “G” rated. Any violations would cause me to go right back to prison.

It’s very difficult as a “sex offender” because not only are you a undesirable felon, but the non-stop anti sex offender barrage on the media turned you into a shunned leper.

Things fell apart

After about four months living at my long-retired father’s house (He was in his late 70’s at the time.), his wife (my step mother) decided that I was a “grown adult” and kicked me out of the house. I tried to explain that my parole was contingent on living with my father. But she didn’t care. She no longer wanted me there.

I was part of his “old life” and his “old wife” and I was a constant reminder of that.

She would have no part of it.

My father, and you know I must give him credit, put up a cursory defense on my behalf. But the situation was unstable, and I was escorted out of the house with my meager belongings in a small suitcase.

I was kicked out on Christmas eve. (Again, long time MM readers will recognize the significance of this event.) And that is how I spent my Christmas in 2007.

Not just losing my jobs on Christmas eve, over and over, and over again, but also getting kicked out of the house as well. Sigh.

Some background
For those of you who are unaware, it just seemed that the preferred date to lay me off from work in industry was right before Christmas. This included Delco Electronics, Magnavox, Poulan Weedeater, Pollak, Grote, Guardian Glass, and Holmes Products.

To quote "John McClain" from the "Die Hard" series of movies. "What are the odds?"

Aside from being a total dick about the entire thing, she made pronouncements that she wanted me to rot in prison, get raped in prison, and have my life totally and utterly destroyed. And that she hoped that she could make this happen personally.

I well remember telling her that “Oh, you are just angry. You don’t mean what you are saying.

To which she replied. “Oh, yes I do. I know exactly what I am saying and exactly what I want.”

(To make a long story short) I ended up in a “flop house” for until after Christmas when the Parole staff could deal with my case.

Flophouse. 
Any house/apartment/ frat house /trailer/etc. which is used for individuals to crash (sleep, chill, hang out, lurk, etc.) for a period of time. In order to "crash", one must not actually live there (e.g. have their name on the lease, own said flophouse, etc.). Flophouses are typically used by college students, drug addicts, transients, vagrants, or other unsavory characters.

The entire staff at the parole office were all celebrating the holidays, don’t you know.

So I had to wait in a limbo state. Locked in a room. I called the 1-800 hot line which instructed me to go to the designated address and stay inside the room and do not leave for any reason until they would get back to work after the holiday.

Eventually they came back from holiday. Picked me up in a van, and hauled me off to a monastery to live.

A monastery is a building or complex of buildings comprising the domestic quarters and workplaces of monastics, monks or nuns, whether living in communities or alone. 

A monastery generally includes a place reserved for prayer which may be a chapel, church, or temple, and may also serve as an oratory, or in the case of communities anything from a single building housing only one senior and two or three junior monks or nuns, to vast complexes and estates housing tens or hundreds. 

A monastery complex typically comprises a number of buildings which include a church, dormitory, cloister, refectory, library, balneary and infirmary, and outlying granges. 

Depending on the location, the monastic order and the occupation of its inhabitants, the complex may also include a wide range of buildings that facilitate self-sufficiency and service to the community. 

These may include a hospice, a school, and a range of agricultural and manufacturing buildings such as a barn, a forge, or a brewery.

-Wikipedia

Actually, it was a really good thing. But at the time I knew nothing about it and was petrified.

A talk with my father

Anyways, my father came to visit me while I sat alone in that bare hotel room. All the light bulbs were burnt out, so I opened the blinds to let the street light illuminate the room.It was a pretty dismal hotel room. It had a very tiny commode in the corner with a beaded curtain separating it from the room, and a old black and white television with “rabbit ears” on the top that didn’t work.

The television looked something like this.

My father sat down on the lumpy bed while I sat on the low 1940’s style chair with mattress springs that jut up from below. He tried to explain his situation, while acknowledging (all the time repeatedly) that his wife was being a horrible bitch to me. But really, he was old and really wasn’t able to handle all the discord.

I understood his situation.

I really did.

This was his life, his family, and I was not wanted by his wife, and he (at his age) did not need the strife and aggravation.

But, I did tell him the truth. I told him what the parole officers told me. that he was incapable of being a “guardian” for me during parole. That he was not behaving like a father. That they were not behaving like a functional family, and there was no way that that environment was healthy for me.

He failed.

He lied to the parole board.

He promoted himself as a good father, and a loving and nurturing home for me to recover and start the long road towards rehabilitation. But the parole office disagreed. Real functional families do not kick family members out of the house, and they most certainly do not do so under the conditions and situation that I was in. Frankly, I was a “basket case”. You don’t go from white-collar professional to slave laborer in the deep South surrounded with urban blacks, SA’s and other misfits of society.

Basketcase
informal : a person who is functionally incapacitated from extreme nervousness, emotional distress, mental or physical overwork, etc.

And he didn’t like to hear it, and told me that he was going to have a “word with them on my behalf”.

I told him not to bother. The decision was already made.

And then the next day, he visited me crestfallen. And he just repeated what they told me. In fact, they suggested that he and his wife go to couples counseling, and see a sociologist to straighten out their dysfunction.

All of which was a major slap in his face.

Anyways, both he and his wife passed on. (They died. My father in late December 2008) and my step-mother sometime in 2010. All I really want to do is to give some background to the situation at hand.

A dark night of soul

For me, it was a dark night of soul. And I sat there awaiting my next form of incarceration. I went from Jail to Prison, to Parole, and now was facing some kind of rehabilitation camp in the deep forests of Pennsylvania.

I didn’t know what to expect.

I was very down and pretty gloomy and my father tried to cheer me up. He said that he was never in my shoes, and did not know what it was like to lose everything, go to a hard labor prison, and then be scorned and rejected by family…

…but he said, that he knew that eventually all this would end. I would will exit it stronger and a better person.

But you know, I didn’t want to hear any platitudes. I didn’t want to hear any excuses. He failed me. And nothing he could say could comfort my crumpled and broken heart. And I certainly didn’t want the sympathy from a person who offered words instead of physical and tangible assistance.

But he was right.

It took a long time. A damn long time.

It took some time to adjust to, and I had to really adapt and configure things, but eventually I thrived inside the monastery. And then when I exited it and was able to live inside a joint men’s home as part of my parole I was doing better, and I was stronger.

Coping and Adaptation

Other parolees, that were “sex offenders” were not doing so well. They tried to adapt to their life before prison, and were having problems. They just couldn’t do it.

I knew their stories because state law mandated that I attend a three hour long counseling session every week to help us readjust back to society as fourth-rate citizens. You know; the “slave class”. Or better yet; “The destitute class”.

Work

They tried to find work as accountants, plumbers, doctors, dentists, managers and other white-collar professions. And simply couldn’t find work. No one would hire them. But they still kept at it, day in and day out. As far as I know (from the circle that I communicated with) no one was ever able to return to their former professions.

But, I was a little different. I knew that I couldn’t work as an engineer or a manager. We used computers, all the time. No one would hire me with that kind of limitation. So, I applied for the jobs that no one wanted. I scrubbed bathrooms. Cleaned up murder crime scenes, I cleaned toilets, I scrubbed up vomit, dug out sewers and hauled trash. I did the dirty and grimy work that no one wanted to do.

Transportation

They (the other parolee “sex offenders”) tried to get a car to get around in, but being a “sex offender”, and parolee, the best they could do is get a “junker”, a “clunker” and pay in cash. And as a result it was like riding in a ratty old junk yard that was forever breaking down.

Typical “sex offender” parolee vehicular transportation.

But I was different. I bought a used bicycle, and rode it everywhere. It was good exercise, healthy, and fun. And cost nothing to drive, and never broke down. And because it was old, and ugly, no one wanted it. So it was never stolen.

Loneliness

Right off the bat just everyone got a girlfriend, but I have always been choosy. Much to my personal lament (when I look back in my memories). And while I had opportunity to make some new friends, and started to get involved with some of them, I quickly realized that there was some kind of quanta “stuff” that was sticking to me that attracted all kinds of negative people to me. Most of which were double and triple trouble. And in our weekly counseling sessions, the other parolees would lament their relationship complexities.

I shied away from women. I got a cat. His name was Coco. He was black. And he was easy to take care of, was there when I was lonely. And was so very happy to see me.

Coco.

Food

Many of my fellow parolees were living with a girlfriend, and this involved all sorts of drama. For meals, most tended to eat out more than their meager budgets would allow, and when they did eat out, they would eat cheap and fast food. Often burgers, fried chicken, or what ever cheap food could be bought in bulk. All heavily laden in sugar, super-processed, and often deep fried.

I sponsored a formal sit-down meal in our jointly shared home. Everyone contributed to the pantry, and we all took turns making dinner. The rule was simple, the person would choose the meal, but it had to have a main dish, and two sides, and that we would all sit down and eat it together. Lunches were on our own, as were breakfasts, and for me, I frequently obtained “subway sandwiches” for lunch.

Simple basic healthy American food.

Your life is now transitional

And all, in all, I did much better than my parolee peers.

This article / podcast is for people who are having trouble coping with their situation in life. And (of course) everyone is different, and I can offer no hard direction. I can tell you all that how you deal with the situation that you are in, will determine how successful you will be in moving out of that situation.

Keep in mind that the situation that you are in now is TRANSITIONAL.

You are moving from one OLD LIFE to a NEW LIFE.

Much like a caterpillar goes into chrysalis to be come a butterfly. This period of time in your life is that chrysalis.

The transformation of a caterpillar to a butterfly takes place in the chrysalis or pupa. Butterflies goes through a life cycle of five stages: egg, larva, pupa and adult. Inside the chrysalis, several things are happening and it is not a “resting” stage.

-What Happens Inside the Chrysalis of a Butterfly?

It is not a passive time.

It is a time of activity.

So STOP thinking about what you were before. And stop thinking about what your life is now. Look forward to what you will become. And I gave you all the tools. You WILL become it. I fucking promise you.

How you handle and deal though this transitional period will define what your new life will become.

An example

This is an example. This is a true example, it’s the real deal, but many people will not be able to relate to it because it is so personal.

After I left the monastery I was living in a shared men’s house, and working as a midnight to 4am housekeeper / janitor.

I lived in a shared “men’s house” with five others. This is the living room. You can see some of my paintings on the wall.

I had enough money to make rent, pay for meals, and utilities and a lot of time on my hands in the daytime. In fact, I only worked four hours a night, and everything was taken cared for. No one bothered me. So I scrubbed toilets, and showers. Big deal. It was an easy life and no one bothered me.

During the day time I would ride my bicycle along the city streets of Erie, Pennsylvania, check out and visit the beaches and just go home and paint. I read a lot. I practiced my art. I wrote poetry, learned Chinese and enjoyed life.

Many of my other fellow parolees were constantly embroiled in relationship issues, substance issues, and going in and out with the seedier and bad groups of people that frequented our neighborhood.

I just kept focused.

Anyways, everyday I had a routine where I would ride my bicycle to the library, and read for a spell, then grab a “subway sandwich” (which is a long sandwich full of cold-cuts and vegetables) and then ride back home.

Subway sandwich.

While I did this, I had a iPod full of music that I would listen to. Most of which were Korean, Japanese and Chinese with a healthy mix of 70’s rock, Country and Western, and Reggie.

And this is the song that I listened to the most, when I was riding my bike at that time. It set the pace for my life-transition. I purposely filled my life with happy up-beat music. Even if I didn’t speak the language. And you can well imagine the looks of the passersby as I sang in Japanese as I rode my bicycle through town.

Riding my bicycle.

And doing so…

I filled myself with upbeat, positive music.

And sometimes I rode with tears running down my face. It was not always easy. In fact, it was often very, very difficult.

Lyrics (English translation)

Obviously the song is in Japanese. But here is what it is all about. It’s about taking on the world with a good, and great attitude. And this is what I filled myself day in and day out was I went through this transitional period. And as I have said, imagine me, an older guy in his 50’s, pedaling around on a bicycle with ear buds and singing in Japanese along the empty residential streets…

Good Morning The east sky is bright again, Yeah Yeah.
Good Morning Let's Go Meet New MySelf (Yeah!)
It's not like yesterday. I'm excited about the sun shining more, Yeah.
What kind of day is waiting for the future that is likely to start today...

Good morning alarm is admony
I'm not going to do it. 

Dozens of options. It's still going well.
A new journey begins where the morning sun and the cityscape begin to cross each other.
.
New Sneakers Exhilarating Freedom
.
Japanese morning Brazil follows last night's tears emptyly
Today is more important than today. It's a waste to have something.
so every day birthday morning shot can coffee
I swallow it and jump into the morning burn.

Good Morning The east sky is bright again, Yeah Yeah.
Good Morning Let's Go Meet New MySelf (Yeah!)
It's not like yesterday. I'm excited about the sun shining more, Yeah.
What kind of day is waiting for the future that is likely to start today...

Sunrise with bright blue sky
"If today is a good day..." What a toothpaste to think about
In the morning zooming in, milk and bread salad.
Dressing is Southern Island, let's stand by.
.
Birds chirping in 2 seconds when the entrance is opened (Chun Chun ♪)
.
Even if you wake up and have a dull face, at the very most, only feelings are positive...
...so certainly the world is serious still stretched and take a deep breath
Junior high and high school students on the salaried man Run with a dream chuo line

Good Morning The east sky is bright again, Yeah Yeah.
Good Morning Let's Go Meet New MySelf (Yeah!)
It's not like yesterday. I'm excited about the sun shining more, Yeah.
What kind of day is waiting for the future that is likely to start today...

Even if it rains yesterday, but today it's high pressure, and there's nothing else.
Hope alone makes dreams possible The morning sun lights up the way
Good Morning This call has reached you again, Yeah Yeah.
Good Morning There's a lovely event to come to you (Yeah!)

Good Morning The east sky is bright again, Yeah Yeah.
Good Morning Let's Go Meet My New Person (Yeah!)
It's not like yesterday. I'm excited about the sun shining more, Yeah.
What kind of day is waiting for the future that is likely to start today...

And I would ride to my house, and my cat Coco would run up to me. So very happy to see me.

My cat Coco was so very happy to see me.

What kind of new day is waiting for me…

…I’ve shown you all what my life is like.

Have faith. Grit and hold on. Adapt and cope. YOU WILL MAKE IT.

I believe in you.

Keep in mind…

If you are experiencing hardship, that MEANS that you are in transition.

The size of the discomfort is equal to the magnitude of change. If you are a MM follower and you are experiencing discomfort, then recognize that you are in chrysalis. This is a good thing.

What you will eventually become…

…is determined how you adapt to the chrysalis phase.

The Podcast

I made up a podcast and placed it here. My app that links the podcast to the articles suddenly became a for-profit venture (after my “free trial”) and will delete all my existing podcasts unless I pay them healthy piles of money every month. Meanwhile, they were never able to really host the videos. They never were able to stream to MM as promised.

Never the less, here’ my podcast. Please watch and download. Then check out the rest of this article below.

Direct Download

You can download the entire podcast directly HERE.

Postscript – Janitorial Job on Parole

Well, that job that I had being a janitor eventually ended.

All jobs end, but being fired for scrubbing toilets has to be a new low for me.

A new person was put in charge of the program (that employed us felons in transition), and she would not have any “sex offenders” working for her.It was her decision, and she had the power to implement her desires.

She let me and a few other sex offenders go as well. Of course, not with the excuse that we were “sex offenders”. No. That would be illegal.

She came up with other excuses.

Each one of us were fired with a different excuse.

One “sex offender” was fired for “stealing the trash bags” that we used when emptying the trash. She claimed that of the 1000 bags that we used, there were ten or fifteen missing and she blamed him.

One “sex offender” was let go for taking too long a break at 2am. Apparently she called his work location at 2:25am and they answered the phone from the office instead of being on the floor mopping.

And I was let go because I allowed my crew to finish early.

Loss of the job violated my parole. I mean just how hard is it to get in trouble working scrubbing toilets at 3am in the morning? But, that was what happened, and by losing my job, I violated my parole.

And guess when this happened?

Yup. You guessed right. Yet another Christmas eve. And that is how I spent my Christmas in 2009.

Die Hard has become my life. And the base commander at NAS, NASC Pensacola, Fla told me never to forget “Yippee Ki Yay.” Ah. The one-liner “Yippee Ki Yay, motherfucker” is one of John McClane’s most famous lines. And it become my fucking life.

And eventually after a bunch of nonsense that really isn’t necessary to get into now, I ended up being hauled back to Arkansas and finished the rest of my sentence.

Postscript – Mother in law.

In regards to my mother in law that kicked me out of the house; she died while I was in prison. I knew that she was dying, when I went back to the ADC. I also knew that she wanted to die and elected not to undergo any type of treatment for her cancer, just to die with pain medicine to control the pain.

And I was in prison, while she elected to die in comfort without strife and pain.

Felon (2008)

And you know, being entangled like I am (provides me with insight and events that most people do not get a chance to experience. And so I experienced “an event.”

Explanation
The EBP enables me to peer into the non-physical reality when approved. I can "see" things that most non-implanted people cannot.

You all probably do not want to hear this, but when a person dies, they tend to review their life with other entities.

These other entities, well I call them Mantids, but others refer to them as Angels.

And sure enough, an Ebenezer Scrooge event took place. It’s a tour of her life by her mantid. When she was exposed to the consequences of her life, the past the future and the present.

And in the present she came to me.

And I was in prison.

Yeah. And she could see that I fully saw her, heard her, and knew what was going on. And she was not surprised, though she was happy to see it occur.

(Which is strange, you would figure that she would realize that I must a be a pretty "special" person to be able to see her in the non-physical body while I was in the physical. But she wasn't all that aware, I guess.)

Anyways, to make a long story short; she said that she was sorry and wanted me to forgive her. She was remorseful from the point of view of a person who is in a disembodied spirit and can feel no pain, nor worry. To me, at that point in time, and knowing what I knew, seemed like “cheating”. No. There was no easy way out.

And I said no.

I said FUCKING NO!

I told her (thought to her, but you all know what I mean) that she was a real “dick” to me and caused me all sorts of grief that was undeserving, and that I would not forgive her.

I specifically told her that our karma has ended.

I will neither bless or condemn her, but that from that moment on-wards, I did not want anything to do with her in any way. And I do not care about what centuries of entanglements and relationships that we may or may not have had in the past. Our relationship was OVER, and the karma that is due her (in whatever form or shape) must be handled by another different consciousness, and another soul. Not by me. And if it cannot be resolved, then she will have to correct the damage to her soul manually.

And I know that will NOT be easy.

And at that the Mantid let her away and I was back in the prison barracks lying in my rack.

And I just lay there pondering my experience.

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The Deactivation Procedure (How my ELF probes were shut off, and my role within the WU-SAP terminated.) Part 2

This is a continuation of part 1. It discusses what it was like for me to go through the decommissioning process.

When my group was “retired” it was very cold, calculating. 

It was methodical and ruthless. I was targeted for “disable and discard”. A chick came into my life. Dragged me to Arkansas on the promise of a great job and a new life, poisoned the living shit out of me with heavy metals while having me sign away on multiple life insurance policies.

The neurological effects got to be pretty pronounced, and was noted by the hospital, and that is what triggered the “fall back” solution; retirement as a sex offender. Aside from the personal angst, it really was “click off the boxes”, “ram through the system”, and “discharge” into the arms of another agency that knows Jack-shit.

[#08] The promise of a new life

After proceeding through ten closure programs; ten figurines, I stood facing the frozen Asian girl figurine.  Why was she important?  What did she represent?  Well, as I will explain here, she represented my closure and rewards.  But how?

Can it be that these were the promises of what would happen once I completed my retirement? 

It would make sense if that were the case.  To promise me great rewards of an enviable life of promise, love and adventure in a far away and exotic land; a land of which occurred only in adventure yarns and romance novels.  Was this the purpose of this subroutine?  I believe that this was the case as well as the purpose.  Yet… One must wonder.  Truly, what good is a promise if it is empty?  How could this promise be manifested?  Certainly no public official, or MAJestic member would cut me a check; buy me a plane ticket and put me on a plane to the South Pacific, would they?

That lies and belies the entire sequence of importance that resides within the quantum mental state; thoughts create realities.  Our thoughts (no matter how we obtain them) eventually create the reality that we experience in the physical.

And, if so, was it [1] because my thoughts control and create my future, or that [2] the extraterrestrial technology had the ability to dimensionally split me off to another reality?  A reality, mind you, that they have created for me once I have successfully completed their tasks?  This is truly heady stuff, guys.

I say this, because I am right now living the life that was promised to me by this program. 

I thought about this while living in a beach house on the ocean on an island in Polynesia, being married to a very busty and attractive Asian, half my age, with a great set of legs.  You know, I can’t help but wonder about this.  This is not a life that one just suddenly stumbles into by accident.  It is a life that is materialized and manifested through thought.  And if one’s thoughts can be controlled by implanted probes, and those probes can have a program that directs thought… then the program can create the life that you will live.  (This paragraph is perhaps the most important paragraph in this manuscript.  Therefore it deserves a second read.  Understand what I am saying.)

Let me begin by relating how I was able to access this program. 

This retirement program ran all day long, and I was exhausted.  I guess that perhaps six hours had transpired by the time I reached the frozen figurine of the Asian girl.  Up until this time, I would spend it running fully ten other subprogram routines. 

Each program would be accessed by going up to the frozen figurine and looking at it intently.  As I would do so, I would become absorbed into it, and I would find myself in a different place and situation.  Each situation revolved around the idea or concept embodied inside the figurine that stood before me. 

These figurines represented a closure program. 

At times I was reliving or running these individual programs.  I was learning lessons, or reliving events.  I was obtaining emotional satisfaction and closure on events and mysteries that were just now being presented to me. 

It was all very complex and elaborate. 

It was as if I was at the pinnacle of my life and learning the; who, where, and why of my significance.  This was all about closure.  This was all concerning my life and the impact that it has on others. 

After I would run the program, I would exit it, and the figurine would remain. 

But it would be a little different.  It would have changed.  After I ran the program, I felt a tremendous release, as if a burden had been released from my shoulders.  The figurines reflected this.

After ten such programs, all that remained were two remaining figurines.  They were the [1] Asian girl, and the [2] Marine warrior.

I stood in front of the Asian girl, and merged with the program. 

In it; I found myself walking on a lush tropical beach with a wonderful azure blue sky and daylight filtering from the leaves of mango and durian trees.  I could see the waves softly lapping on the wide expanses of sand, and the occasional sea shell or conch shell that had washed up upon the beach. I could see the green-blue water lapping upon my toes, and the curved beach ahead of me. 

Before me walked the Polynesian / Asian beauty.  Her long lush blueish black hair blew in the breeze.  Dressed, as she was in a sarong and not much else.  Her toes splayed out as she walked in the sand, and she held a tropical drink in her hand.  (I know this sounds very corny and terribly stereotypical, but that is what I experienced.  I was reliving a Harlequin Novel; no matter how nauseating it might seem to the reader.  It is what happened.)

Harlequin Novel
The romance novel or romantic novel is a literary genre. Novels of this type of genre fiction place their primary focus on the relationship and romantic love between two people, and must have an "emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending." There are many subgenres of the romance novel including fantasy, historical, science fiction and paranormal.

“You want this.”

Yes, I know it is corny, but this is what I experienced, as stereotypical as it is. This is exactly what I experienced.  I wish it wasn’t so stereotypical or odd, but it is what it was.  So I present it her in all it’s stereotypical and obscure glory.

The drink was a piña colada and it was inside a coconut shell with chunks of pineapple floating in it. 

The piña colada is a sweet, rum-based cocktail made with rum, cream of coconut, and pineapple juice, usually served either blended or shaken with ice. It may be garnished with a pineapple wedge, a maraschino cherry or both.

It had a standard plastic straw of red color just sticking out of it with a 1960’s style tiny umbrella attached to it.  She looked at me with the most amazing big dark eyes.  She had unusually large and lush lips that were moist, open and inviting.  She approached and got up really close to me.  I could smell the sun on her skin, and the smell of the ocean and sand.  I detected a faint whiff of some tropical perfume in her hair.  She was much shorter than I was.  Perhaps 5’2” tall. 

Typically I could not experience smells when I was engaged in the ELF field.  But I was able to in this sequence.  I must wonder why.

I know.

I know, that all this is super corny.

But this is EXACTLY WHAT I EXPERIENCED, for good, bad or corniness.

The drink disappeared from her hand and with both hands she softly and lightly held my hands in hers.  She looked at me intently.  She whispered to me.  It was a promise. 

She said to me that I did not want wealth, nor did I want power. 

She knew me, she said. 

She looked at me with a serious expression.  “You want this”, she said. 

She placed my hand on her breast and turned around so that my arm was holding her chest and she pressed her back against my chest.  And moved her hand out upon the expanse of Lush Ocean, and green tropical hills with beautiful clouds.  “You want this”, she said again.

Then she turned around again to face me. 

She continued to look into my eyes deeply.  “You deserve this.”  She said.  “You need this.  You earned this.  This is yours.  Take it.  Accept it.  Move on with your life.” 

She then paused. 

She softly put her head in my chest.  And hugged me softly, and the sun rapidly set upon the vast tropical ocean.  As it gradually got dimmer and dimmer, the words resonated in my mind.

I knew that she was giving me this life, this new state of life and being.  But how could it possibly mature and transpire?  I did not know.  Yet, still the words echoed in the gathering darkness.  The breeze increased and she held me closer.  “This is your reward”, she cooed.  “This is all yours.  Thank you.”  She kissed me, and the program ceased and I found myself back in the black nothingness room with the twelve frozen figurines.

Her words just echoed on my mind…

“You want this.” 

“You deserve this.  You need this.  You earned this.  This is yours.  Take it.  Accept it.  Move on with your life.”

+ + +

Look, I know this was a program.  I knew what was going on.  This was all about my retirement from a system that controlled my mind.  As such, they could get into my mind.  They could expose me to holographic events and movies in which I would be able to participate in. 

While the previous ten figurines all had specific closure sequences.  This one was different. 

Instead of shutting down knowledge and experiences, this was about a future.  A future in which I will be rewarded for my efforts in a way and manner that suits my personality profile.  Not through the rewards of money or lavish expensive collections of possessions, but rather of a stress free life with a beautiful (and sexy) companion in a beautiful place. 

But, still I had to wonder…

How would this come to be?  How could this possibly transpire?  I was facing five years ahead of me at hard labor and probation.  My immediate future was hardly a paradise by any stretch of the imagination.  It was a mystery that I would not even begin to contemplate to a full ten years afterwards.  Because, exactly ten years later, this life actually and did completely manifest into reality.

This promise that was made to me that day, manifested into reality, ten years later.

This was no literary fiction.  I actually ended up living on Tutuila island in the Samoan island chain.  That is another story for another time.  

But the idea that a software program associated with the ELF probes would direct my thoughts to manifest reality is a significant point that the reader must not discount.  

We live in a multi-dimensional universe.  

If we control our thoughts we can manifest our physical realities in the way that we prefer.  

But if people, of evil or other intent, have the ability to do so, they can also mold and create the reality that we experience.  That is why the manifestation of sentience is important to the <redacted>.  

They do not want us to develop into service to self-sentience.   If we did so, then the clutch of mankind evolutionary prospects would be minimized to the great detriment of the local federation.

+ + +

I was pretty tired from the events of the day so far.  I had gone through eleven subprograms and I was exhausted.  Yet one final program remained.  This was the final program. 

This program was the Marine program. 

(In my mind.) I walked up to the frozen figuring and stood looking at myself as a battle hardened Marine.  I looked up into its eyes.  I knew what it was about.  I knew what it represented.  I understood what and why I had to make this final encounter.

[#12] The retirement of the spirit of a Marine

Upon merging with the image (computer sub-program) I found myself walking upon the ruins of a giant ship yard. 

The image that I had was piles of wrecked and dissembled ships that lay bare upon a sea side.  The metal and steel shone brightly and reflectively in the clear day.  The sky was blue and trees could be seen in the distance.  The impression that I had was that the site was huge, but containable, and that I was in a large naval scrap yard.  It was near the sea or ocean and it was a bright and sunny day.

It was so sunny that the light glinting off the bare and exposed steel was painful to look at. yet the trees at the edge of the wrecking yard were beautiful florescent green upon a nice blue, blue, blue cloudless sky.

This yard was involved in the dismantling of boats, and ships of various sizes and ages.  It was a bright and clear day.  Maybe ten in the morning.  The sky was pristine blue, and the colors of the distant trees and buildings were remarkably colorful.  In particular, the trees were a bright lush green, and the sky was nearly cloudless. 

Surrounding me were piles of shiny metal and the ruins of many a fine steel ship.  Most of the piles were just collections of town ship parts.  There would be a partial stern of a ship here, and a torn bulkhead there.  Wires, sheet metal, and fixtures lay about everywhere.

As I walked about, I saw no one to greet me.  This was quite unusual.  As all the other program subroutines involved a persona or character that I would interact with.  I could see tiny workers in the distance.  One man, wearing a plaid red shirt, was inside a booth controlling a crane, and there were a few men in the distance walking along the tree line.

I found myself led, by curiosity or random activity (?), towards a pile of debris off to my right.  As I approached it, I could see what it was. 

It was a (fragment or a broken section of) bulkhead with an array of small boxes set into the wall. 

They looked like little mail boxes.  Each mail box had a number.  I was curious and so I walked up to it to observe it closer.  I reached my hand to brace myself as I got closer to peer at the boxes.  I maneuvered myself to get closer, carefully avoiding the rough jagged sharp edges…  As I touched the rough edge of the torn bulkhead…

+ + +

Everything was different.  It was a different time and a different place.  I was a deck hand.  I was an immigrant to America.  My name was (Sorry, but at the time of this writing I have discovered that I have forgotten the name.  I just cannot remember the name), and I came from an eastern European country.  I had black curly hair, and a black beard.  I wore a watch cap of sorts, and period costume naval work clothes.  I was in the merchant marine.  The year was sometime in the 1880’s to 1900’s more or less. (Post American civil war, but before the turn of the century.)


Watch Cap 
A knit cap, originally of wool (though now often of synthetic fibers) is designed to provide warmth in cold weather. Typically, the knit cap is of simple, tapering constructions, though many variants exist. Historically, the wool knit cap was an extremely common form of headgear for seamen, fishers, hunters and others spending their working day outdoors from the 18th century and forward, and is still commonly used for this purpose in Scandinavia and other cold regions of the world. Being found all over the world where climate demands a warm hat, the knit cap can be found under a multitude of local names.

In the blink of a nanosecond, I found myself at the bow of the ship, near the chain locker. 

It was yet another reality. 

It was an understanding, or a realization of my place; my role, or my life.  I had a task.  I had a chore to perform.  Staring down the dark portal below I could see the deep bowls of the inner ship below.  It was dark and dim, but I could barely make out  the sides of the steel bulkheads below. 

My job was to clean it, or to retrieve something that had fallen down inside of it.  I do not know which. 

Access hatch to the forward anchor chain locker.

.

I had to do my job, or perform my task.  It was my role; my purpose.  So I did as I was instructed.  I went to another part of the ship and moved towards the bow.  I entered the (chain) locker through a small hatch below decks.  It was an access hatch; seldom used. 

I opened the port, and stepped inside.  I found myself standing there.  I stood there looking around the dim chamber. 

Chain storage locker.
.

It was dim, but not entirely dark.  It was smelly and smelled of mud, dirt, grime and oil.  The chamber was hot, damp, humid and stifling.  I started to look around the small chamber. 

I was searching for something. 

I had to climb up and around various rough edges and huge chain that occupied the entire deck of the chamber. 

When suddenly I heard a sound above me. 

I looked up.  I saw the chain spilling down towards me.

As the anchor chain in the portal above me started to move, I started to move.  But it was no use.  The heavy steel links flowed down into the small chamber

The chain cascaded down into the chain locker.  I watched it come towards me.

I watched it come towards me.

It hit me on the face.

It hit me.

The tons upon tons of heavy iron chain fell down and smashed me. 

All became dark.

I was buried, dead, under a tons of steel chain.

.

(I died.  I was in the bow chain locker and tons of anchor chain fell down upon me killing me instantly.  I don’t really know the significance of this portrayal of the event at the time; though I would later.  But for now the reader must understand that I experienced the death event of a Merchant Marine sailor in the late 1880’s.)

The next sequence of events was like participating in a documentary.  Not watching a documentary, but rather participating in it.

I saw the ship sail on without the seaman.  I saw how the seaman became part of the ship.  How his soul became the very soul of the ship.  He did not haunt the ship as a ghostly specter, but rather, became an integral part of the lifeblood of the ship.  As we deal with possessions and things, our quanta entangles with it, and we become combined.  This is the same with anything.  Be it relationships, items, desires, thoughts.  The seaman had become part of the ship.  The thoughts and dreams, hopes and desires of the other sailors, through the years merged with the spirit of the dead merchant marine sailor.

The metal, of the ship, had a soul.

But as all things do, the ship became old and obsolete.  Eventually, it too was retired.  Much like I was.  But a soul cannot be destroyed.  Can’t you understand?  A soul can be changed, and altered, but it still exits.  The soul of this sailor still existed, even when the ship was torn up and shattered apart and sold for scrap.  Every part of that ship was a soul of that sailor.  And, his soul was the complete embodiment of all the hopes and dreams and experiences of all the men who sailed on that ship with him, and since that sailor died.

+ + +

It was as if shreds of this piece of metal were scattered throughout the world.  Small pieces of shiny metal went everywhere.  I could see the spirit of the dead crew-member leaving his body at the moment of impact and death.  But it was not a linear progression of past, present and future.  But instead it was the simultaneous expansion of all potential futures and presents.  For as the seaman rose to join the rest of his quantum cloud, he simultaneously felt the expansion of a future where his soul would merge with the ship.

I lived his death sequence.

I felt his soul rise up following the chain that cascaded upon his smashed and lifeless body.  It rose higher and higher.  The brightness became magnificent.  It rose above the deck of the ship and traveled up the mast of the ship.  It grew brighter and more powerful.  It became like a small star.  I found myself shouting out loud (outside the program, and inside my cell);

May I be the shining light for all to see…

So that others may follow me…

And be the man who I was truly meant to be…

A buzzing noise reached a crescendo and I exploded into tiny fragments that cascaded down upon the twelve frozen figurines.  Each piece was a small sliver of silver metal.  (A sliver of metal that was in itself a small part of the ship that my soul had merged with.) 

And each one floated to a position inside the tassel affixed to the swords that suddenly all the frozen figurines were holding. 

To my surprise, I found myself standing in front of all the figurines again.  But this time they were all holding up their swords to create an arch from which I would walk under.

Each sword had a tassel, and associated with that tassel was a little ball, or bead that dangled next to it. 

Inside that bead was the soul of the ship. 

It wasn’t just the soul of the ship, but the soul of every man and every sailor.  It was their combined hopes and dreams and every one of the figurines carried this essence with them. 

My goal was to walk under this protective canopy to release my soul to find a new life of greatness and meaning.

.

I began to walk forward.  Each time as I passed a frozen figurine it dissolved and disappeared, and I became lighter, more powerful and stronger.  I absorbed the essence and very being of each figurine that I walked past.  They were all part of me, but of isolated connectivity.  But when I walked by them, we connected.  With each step this happened.  I continued through to the end of the line.  Each time, getting stronger and brighter and lighter.

Finally I reached the end of the line and I saw the Marine before me.  He looked me sternly in the eyes and picking up his sword, snapped it in two on his knee.  And when it snapped… when the event occurred, it was like a bolt of lightning struck me.  Everything went white; a blazing and blinding white light.

+ + +

I found myself in a strange state.  I was a disembodied white orb hovering over the former ship which killed the merchant marine sailor.  I was both everywhere at once, and nowhere at all.  It was an odd feeling.  It was unlike anything that I can ever describe.  It was a feeling totally unlike anything that a human can or will experience.

Shutting down of all my programs

At that time, one of my handlers at the ELF control booth, spoke up.  “What is the code?” he asked.  “Tell us the code”, my interlocutor ordered.

The imagery around me changed.  I found myself standing outside the wreckage of the shipyard scrap heap.  I was next to the bulkhead with the many small “mail boxes”.  I walked closer to it and looked at the boxes.  On each box was a number and a name of a seaman.  The name of my patron seaman was on one of the boxes.  The writing was in pencil and old fashioned script but still legible.  I read the number on the box.

Four. Three. Seven.

I stated.  There was no questioning it.  That was the number on the box.  The box still remained.  It had a combination lock on it.  This combination lock had two dials.  Each dial pointed to a letter instead of a number.

Old style post office mail box with two dials instead of three.

.

The handler from the ELF control booth said “open the box”.  And, without even thinking about it, or how I was able to do so, I moved the dials to the correct combination.  I moved the dials to “H” and to “R”.

The box popped open. 

“What is inside?” he asked.

I looked inside.  There was a scrap of paper.  It looked like the torn bottom from a letter.  It was as if someone had torn away the bottom of a page of paper.  On it, in pencil were words.  But I couldn’t make them out.  They were smudged and faint.  Again, it looked like someone had written in script in the bottom margins of a book or paper.

“Read it.” The handler commanded.

The words became clear and took form.  I could clearly make the words out and it took on a new meaning as I read the words.  I now understood everything.  It was clear to me.  All of this, it was all clear to me now.

“What does it say?” the handler asked again.

I read the scrap of paper. 

 “I will wait for you.  You belong in the islands with me.  Our futures are entwined. I don’t know how or when you will return to me.  But I will wait for you.  When your labors are done, I will be ready and waiting for you.  Come home, my love.  Come home to me.”

And next to the slip of paper was an old faded black and white photo.  It was one of those photos that required a person stand in front of an old style camera.  One by which the photographer would stand under a dark cape to take.  On it was a picture of the (now dead) merchant marine sailor standing next to his girlfriend.  She was a cute girl of Polynesian / Asian descent.  She was the splitting image of the frozen figurine that I had encountered earlier.

She was waiting for me.  I knew it.  When my adventures were complete, I could return to her.  I had been away too long, and it was now time to hang up my gear and finish my labors.  It was time to go home.

“Are you ready to go home?” the handler asked.

“Yes”, I paused.  “Yes I am” I replied

I felt a warm wash of emotion flow through my body.  It was a calming of expanse of mind.  My heart expanded as did my mind.  I felt my body get light and the sights around me grew lighter and brighter.  I felt myself flying up, up higher… And higher

Higher.

Lighter and lighter.

“What are you?” He asked.

“I am the bright and shining star for all to see.”

I am a bright and shining star for all to see.

.

Completion

My vision returned and I was back inside my cell.  I had been at this entire exercise all day, and I was totally and completely wet.  My cell was hot, and I had been perspiring terribly.  I got up to get some water at the sink, but it mustn’t have been well grounded, so every time I went near it I got a pretty nasty electric shock. (Pretty hard to accomplish with moist sweat covered palms.)

I sponge bathed myself and then laid down to sleep.  I was exhausted.  I didn’t eat all day, and I was famished.  The entire exercise lasted from the morning after breakfast through to about six in the evening.  I just simply closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

I meet the former Commander from NAS NASC Pensacola

The next day I woke up and my cell door was opened.  I was free to join the line with the rest of the inmates.  Just so, and got in line with the rest of the inmates.  By now, after over a week of evaluation (ten days), they were able to trust me somewhat, and I no longer had to be so sedated.  Nor did I require guards to march me everywhere.  I was almost completely finished with my deactivation, as well as the “official” purpose of the evaluation; to measure my threat to the community as a sex offender.

I was told to get out of my one-piece white coveralls and was issued some “state issue”. Which is a pair of pants (with a rope draw-string) and a top. Both white. And had my Prison identification number stenciled in big black letters over my left breast. We were all issued two sets.

I was issued, like everyone else, a faded outfit that looked like others had worn it. You can tell with their old identification numbers crossed out, and mine written over them.

After I received my “state issue”, I went back to the barracks. It was time to et, and you did not want to miss that.

As I waited in line, another “inmate” walked up to me.  He was older than me, and came up to me in a very friendly way.  He was wearing crisp brand-new ‘state issue” (prison uniform) with no lettering. (Which was curious, as all of us had our identification number stenciled upon our clothing.

He said “Hi”, and looked at me closely.  And then, staring into my eyes, asked “Do you remember me?”.  I looked back at him.  Indeed he looked familiar.  But I could not place him at all.  So I told him that.  I said “Well, you certainly look familiar, but I just can’t place you.”  He smiled, and walked away.  That was the first and the last time that I saw him there.

“Do you remember me?”

It wasn’t until later on, after I ate, and later on that night that I realized just who this person was.  It was the Naval Commander.  The exact one who I met so many years ago at NAS NASC Pensacola. 

He was there to say good bye.

The reader should pay close attention.  The base commander was there, dressed in inmate attire in GP, but he was NOT an inmate.  He did not accompany us into the mess hall.  He did not have an assigned cell in the barracks.  He was dressed in the prison whites so that he could meet me up close, but he was not an inmate.

The last time that I saw him was when he dropped me off at the Chow Hall in 1981.

Accessing the Source Code for Deactivation

Things were winding down during this evaluation period.  Overhearing the guards, I knew that the gentlemen from Washington would be leaving soon.  That only could mean that the final stages of my decommission would occur shortly.  I didn’t have to wait long.  While I was standing up, I suddenly felt the familiar buzzing associated with centering on the feducials.  And I knew what I had to do.  I stood up and looked at the feducials and centered myself.

Suddenly there was the long forgotten, but familiar album art overlay in my visual field.  I went to lay down and watched the operators modify the settings.  I watched passively and let them do their tasks.  It was pretty simple, really.  They simply would lock a suppression command in place, and archive the transmittal abilities associated with the probes.  They did this and then let me alone.  I was decommissioned.

Conclusion of my Evaluation

With the conclusion of these mind-numbing sequence of events, I was finally deactivated.  The “experts” who were present at the facility had packed up and left the prison complex.  Everything was settling down into a normal prison routine.  While the ELF field was still on, it was more or less, unused.  My handlers were silent.  The carrier waves associated with it was off, and the cadence beats were completely silent.  For all practical purposes, I was near the end of my deactivation sequence.

I went to the psychiatric expert at the prison and he told me that they had concluded that I was no threat to the community.  They labeled me a level 1 threat level and told me that I did not have to attend the reeducation program for sex offenders.  This was good news, and he issued me a paper associated with it.

Arkansas, at that time, had four classification levels.  That was different from the three level system that is federally mandated.  

Upon handing me the paper, for some strange reason, my diagnostic screen again snapped on and it overlaid my field of vision.  I could see that everything was shut down and locked into place.  I felt calm and relaxed.  It stayed in my field of vision for about four hours and then snapped off.  I knew that my deactivation ordeal would soon be ending.

Or….

So I thought.

Lester has some Fun

Well, that is what we all thought.  The gentlemen from Washington thought that their work was finished.  I thought that I was decommissioned.  And we both believed that everything was finished. 

This is what we thought, but the ELF signals did not originate locally, their origination point is somewhere else.  And, thus the field was still on.  It would remain on for another three to four days until turned off.  In the meantime, the local prison guards still had access to the local command booth in the diagnostic center.  And one of the guards, a guard appropriately named Lester, thought it‘d be great fun to play with the controls.

It ended up being one of the most horrific events of my stint in the ADC.

For reasons; not entirely clear to me, the primary core kit of implant probes provided a base line or first-line of control (or defense) in memory retention and access by MAJestic or other branch operatives.  

The ELF signal point of origination was often very far away from the targeted agent.  The signal modulated thoughts and some basic memory functions, but the full spectrum and range of control (for some reason) required close (on site) supervision.  

That is to say; there had to be someone near me, monitoring me and controlling the implants in some way.  

That control had physical limitations in distance and range of control.  

The secondary kit; which controlled the drones, obviously did not have this limitation.  My retirement was predicated in the closure and security of my memory access.  Thus it mandated that the core kit one probes be accessed in great detail.  Thus the requirement for a physical retirement facility where I could be contained; restrained and eventually deactivated.

Oh, Lester was a funny fellow.

He started to adjust the knobs and buttons.  He enjoyed me howling with pain.  He could make my arm twitch, and could make me lose my bowel movements.  He could make me ejaculate and give me tremendous headaches.  He was having a great time doing this.  There was nothing that I could do to stop it.  Everything I tried; every plea I cried, and every action I took were inefficacious.  I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.  My body would start thrashing about and twisting.  Yet he would not stop.  Suddenly; somehow,  he actuated the source code menu.  I don’t think that he had any idea what he was up to.  He just continued to play with the switches and dials.  I do not think he knew, at all, what he was doing.  (Then surprisingly; out of the blue, something amazing happened.) My source code control dialog menu filled my visual cortex.

And, even though he continued to play with all manner of switches in the control booth, and played at the control panel, I was able to now access my own brain software.  I was no longer locked out.  Oh, it is true, I continued to undergo this period of crazy torture, but all the time, now the access menu filled my cerebral cortex.

I took advantage of this situation.

The reader should know and realize that by using the codes that were still present on the source code display, I was able to retain my memories and reverse the suppression of the memories.  I did not change anything else.  I left the transmission ability of the ELF probes to be turned off, and pretty much left everything else in the same state.  He did manage to alter some of the comfort settings, but I was able to reset them.

Eventually, the guard was relieved, and I was able to rest.  While there were some minor events since that time, in general, my role as an ELF agent was decommissioned.  But thanks to the wayward guard, I now had full and total recall of all my memories associated with the two ELF programs that I participated in.  In fact; I had more memories than when I was first arrested.  I remembered everything; everything that ever happened to me.  This entire event released every single memory lock placed in my brain.  Every single one was unlocked and I remembered the most amazing things; things that, I am sure, I was not intended to recall.

…not intended for me to recall.

I regain control of my software

Let’s chat about this for a little while, in more detail.

I might have made bad decisions.  I most certainly was not in the situation that I wanted to be in, but I was not stupid.  I knew what had transpired.  That bozo of a guard messed up the settings that both my handlers and the “experts” had put in place.  Like a spoiled child he had completely made a mess of the internal settings and lock-downs associated with my mind.  Who knows what long term consequences that would have?

Bozo the Clown is a clown character very popular in the United States, peaking in the 1960s as a result of widespread franchising in early television.  As slang the term “bozo” refers to a clownish and silly person who is known for stupidity and poor judgement.

Would I [1] get cancer?  Could I become [2] sick, [3] mentally unstable?  Would I have [4] memory loss, or [5] persistent nightmares?  Anything could happen.  Could I [6] accidentally get locked inside the drone with no drone pilot controlling it?  It was a frightening proposal.  I had to do something.  And I took immediate steps to take action…

I knew what to do.  It might have been decades ago, but I now had a complete memory recall.  That included all of my training at NAS China Lake.  I knew what was going on.  I knew what was involved.  I understood what controls were in place and why.  I realized the entire situation and how everything fit together.  There was no question of what I should do.  And thus, I took control of the situation, as only I knew how to do.

I pulled up my diagnostic screen, and using my long unused skills, I removed all the terminal locks on the root core memories. 


From my point of view it was similar to that of accessing an early version of Microsoft Windows 3.2 except instead of “windows” or boxes appearing, a page in a book would open up.  (An icon of a hand would turn the pages, and on each page was a parameter that I could change with “check boxes” that I could set. )  I could flip through the pages with my mind.  It was an interesting GUI; crude by the standards by which I was accustomed to when I was retired in 2005.  But functional, never the less.  The colors were all pastel.  It consisted of pale greens, pale oranges, yellows and blues.  Some moron chose pastels for all the GUI and brain functions whenever the brain was accessed.  I guess that we “cool” in the 1980’s, but decidedly archaic in the year 2005.

I kept everything locked down, but retained the memories.  I needed to do this, for that is the only way that I would be able to correct things if I accidentally made a mistake in resetting my programming.  It didn’t take long, but I needed to do so.

It was a simple matter of checking or unchecking the “boxes” that resided on the GUI pages as they materialized.  Truthfully, my training at NAS China Lake only covered about 60% of the functions of these boxes, so when there was a question concerning a given box or issue, I let it stay at the default, or safe setting whenever possible.  You could see easily how this was manifested in the GUI.

I think that I would have preferred to reset everything into the exact condition that the “experts” left it in.  But I did not know what that situation was.  So I had to improvise.  I don’t know if it was my fate, or I was supposed to do so, but I did the best that I could.  I set up my (controllable) settings as best I could. 

I locked out all outside ELF interference (The core routines, at least.), and returned everything back to “nominal” range.  I left the access portals to my memories intact, but left the adjunct connections to the Core Core Kit #2 probes alone.

This was by design.  I really did not understand the complexities of the secondary kit as well as the core kit.  I did not want to really mess up my brain inadvertently, so I chose to be very conservative in my lockouts and restrictions.

Thus, after all of this, and thanks to Lester, I regained both full control of my memories and was able to lock out invasive ELF fields as well.  I became fully empowered, and this empowerment is what enabled me to write upon Metallicman.

I wonder; was this all really “accidental”, or are there actually subroutines within subroutines?  That is to say; schemes and plans within plans or great complexity?  I wonder about this often.

Field turned off

(I place this here a little bit out of order to avoid reader confusion.)  The ELF field stayed on for days after the “experts” left.  The entire time it was on, I felt its effects.  I could see cavitation everywhere, and I tended to be rather physically hot.  I sweated; even when it was 40°F outside.  My skin was hot and moist and I drank a lot of water.  The high pitched ringing in my ears wasn’t so loud and painful, but still persisted at a much lower volume.  But there was no communication with the handlers, and no cadence, nor were there any other effects that were always present when I was involved in an integrated operation.

Here, I would like to discuss what happened with the ELF field was turned off. 

I wish I could tell you that it was a mind blowing experience, or that it was a relief.  But it wasn’t anything like that.  Perhaps it was because of how I reset my mind, or perhaps this is what happens after deactivation.  But when the field was turned off it was, well…ordinary.

Have you ever switched off an old style vacuum-tube television?  It “felt” like that.  The screen shrunk in a second into a single dot.  It collapsed into that dot, and then the dot faded away quietly. 

Invented in about 1910, vacuum tubes were a basic component for electronics throughout the first half of the twentieth century, which saw the diffusion of radio, television, radar, sound reinforcement, sound recording and reproduction, large telephone networks, analog and digital computers, and industrial process control. 

Although some applications had counterparts using earlier technologies such as the spark gap transmitter or mechanical computers, it was the invention of the vacuum tubes that made these technologies widespread and practical. 

In the forties the invention of semiconductor devices made it possible to produce solid-state devices, which are smaller, more efficient, more reliable, more durable, and cheaper than tubes. Hence, in the '50s and '60s, solid-state devices such as transistors gradually replaced tubes. 

The cathode-ray tube (CRT) remained the basis for televisions and video monitors until superseded in the 21st century. However there are still a few applications for which tubes are preferred to semiconductors; for example, the magnetron used in microwave ovens, and certain high frequency amplifiers.

For me; I felt like the ELF field just collapsed upon itself, and then the remaining signal just faded away quietly.  It was not, however, as if I “saw” this occurring.  No.  Instead it was as if I “felt the field end” just like someone turning off an old vacuum tube oscilloscope or television set.

That was all there was to it.

To those who might be watching me on the prison cameras, they would see no changes what so ever.  Everything that I experienced was experienced by only one person. 

That was me, and me alone.

Aside from no longer ever being entangled with the drone and the drone pilot, my long steam of nightime dreams consisting of attending futuristic schools and sitting in classes all ended abruptly. It all ended.  It was over, and I haven’t attended any schools (in my dreams) ever since.

I meet Sebastian at the Intake Facility

As we were lining up to exit the facility, we were each paired with another inmate to whom were chained.  (In the ADC, we were all chained together with leg chains and connected handcuffs.)  To my surprise, and amazement, he looked familiar.  As I looked closely, he too recognized me.  It was Sebastian!  (Sebastian was [1] my former AOC from NAS NASC Pensacola, and who [2] also worked alongside me at NAS China Lake.)  It had been a long time (30 years!), and he had aged somewhat, but he was still recognizable.

What were the odds?  Not only were we at the same facility, in the same state, at the same time, but we were chained together.  The last time that I saw him was at China Lake Naval Weapons Center in Ridgecrest, California.  That was thirty years ago.  It had to be more than just a coincidence.  It had to be.

The reader can disagree with my appraisal.

He told me that he was arrested for possession of child porn, just like I was, but he had decided to take it to trial instead of pleading out.  He did not fare too well, however.  He felt that it was a setup, as did I, since we were both heterosexuals with absolutely normal, and even a little dated, feelings about female attractiveness. 

But, it turned out he didn’t do too well in court.  In the state were we were charged, they had a massive campaign about child porn as well as a very vocal and supportive religious organizations that were going on, it seemed, like weekly crusades against those who commit those crimes. 

This in itself was curious.  Who or what was behind all this orchestrated antagonism?  Was it part of the process to retire all us agents, or was it just a massive coincidence?  

I do not know.  

What I do know, is that the American media is owned and controlled by the United States government.  There is no question about that.  So whether they actually controlled this media blitz is unknown.  What is known is that the American government did have the ability to do so if they wanted to.

So when he had his trial, the evidence did not matter.  It was an emotional hot button, and the jury of his peers turned out to be mostly uneducated, deep southern people with strong racial and cultural biases (Think of the character “Ricky” from the Television show “Trailer Park Boys”.). 

Actually, the truth is that they were under-educated, or little experience outside of the country where they were born and raised.  

Their life experiences were often colored by prejudice and local norms of behavior that were exclusionary in their totality.  

Typically, they had a high school degree but forgot most of what they had learned in school, and they worked blue-collar or manual labor positions with little application of reason or understanding.  

They based their decisions on emotion.  Thus they were easily manipulated by anyone serving up a story comprised of emotional issues.
Trailer Park Boys is a Canadian mockumentary television series created and directed by Mike Clattenburg that focuses on the misadventures of a group of trailer park residents, some of whom are ex-convicts, living in the fictional Sunnyvale Trailer Park in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. The television series, a continuation of Clattenburg's 1999 film of the same name, premiered on Showcase in 2001. The planned final season ended in 2007, and the planned final episode, "Say Goodnight to the Bad Guys", premiered as a special on Showcase on December 7, 2008, ending the initial run of the series.  There have been three films released in the series: The Big Dirty, released on October 6, 2006; Countdown to Liquor Day, released on September 25, 2009; and Don't Legalize It, released on April 18, 2014 after issues during production.
.

In any issue; whether it is related to this manuscript or whether it is a fight with your spouse or a political argument, one must realize that humans have the strong tendency to accept the comfort of what they know and have seen.  If they come across something different; strange or unusual, they will usually tend to argue against it.  We, as humans, have to realize that we need to see things for all angles and all perspectives.  That wisdom is a not just a laudable goal, but a necessity towards growth and expansion of the soul.

It didn’t matter that they couldn’t prove how he got the images, or even if they actually were under the legal age.  It didn’t matter that medical doctors could find no evidence of abhorrent behavior or tendencies or predilections toward pedophilia.  It didn’t matter that this was his first offense.  In the eyes of the community, he was a “sick individual” who needed to be incarcerated for a long, long time.  I believe that he was sentenced to sixty years at hard labor (60 years) on “the third”.

One third of the sentence must be at hard labor punishment (33%), the rest can be released to parole (66%) provided that he accepted the terms of parole and passed the Sex Offender reeducation program.  For him, that meant that he had a minimum of ten years at hard labor before he could even consider to be released on parole.

We rode in the bus together to our destination prisons.  He was slated to go to a different one than I was, but we both knew that it was not going to be pleasant.  The prison that I was designated to attend was known as the “worst” prison in the entire (state) system. 

There was a saying “There ain’t nothin’ good about Brickeys.”  (Let me tell you; it is an accurate appraisal.) 

This was the De Facto hard labor prison.  It was a common destination for most reoffenders in the prison system, but not necessarily one of the prisons that you send a newbie to, especially one for a “soft” crime. 

A “soft” crime is a victimless crime, which did not involve violence or any kind or theft of property.  Crimes in this category include smoking an illegal substance alone, possession of banned books, or making a copy of music or movies.  

There are those who insist that there is no such thing as a victimless crime; that for a law to be passed, someone had to be a victim.  

That’s really an argument for “arm-chair” philosophers. 

On a practical basis; a victim according to the founding fathers of the United States (read your Federalist Papers) is someone who was harmed or hurt or suffered directly and physically by (your) criminal activities.  

A victim might be a person hit by a drunk driver, a person who suffered through a mugging, a spouse who was beaten up, someone who was swindled of their life’s saving or any other direct; provable physical damage.  

The accused has the right to confront their accuser (this is encoded in the Constitution, as well as many state constitutions); and if the accuser is not a victim; then it is a “victimless crime”.

The term “victimless crime” is a recent addition to the American judicial lexicon.  Before 1920, all crimes required a victim to be aggrieved.

He was to be shipped off to a labor/work prison.  Here his skills would be used to provide free slave labor to other industries in the region.  I believe that he became a logger and worked the local lumber industry there.


As a “rent-a-slave”.  Here, prisoners are rented out to companies at a low rate.  They work for free, and get “credit” towards their eventual release from prison.

As we rode the bus, we chatted a little bit and caught up on some things.  He (politely and strongly) suggested that we don’t talk about our experiences and the true nature of who we were.  No one would believe us anyways.  He also warned me that since our brains were hardwired, they could do anything to us, so it was best for us to ride out the journey. 


The term “hardwired” means to physically connect one thing to another.  In a like way, something has to be cut or damaged to extract the said object.  Thus in this case, our probes were functionally and physically installed in our brains.  We could never remove them without risking brain damage.

He offered me some candy that he had bought from the commissary and we chatted about life in general and what fate will have in store for us when we finally reached our destination.

While there were many individuals tangentially involved in our operations and training, only three people (that I actively knew of) were actively involved in our little part of the program.  This cell of people comprised myself, Sebastian, and the base Commander. 

Everyone else performed tasks tangential to us.  While we worked on <redacted>, we knew each other through our drones.  We had no clue who the drone commander was underneath the outer shell of the drones that we worked alongside.  While we were being trained on the NAS China Lake facility, we worked alongside many people, but no one really had a clue as to our real purpose and training there.  In every event, throughout our entire existence, there was only three people –out little cell- who truly knew what was going on.

Our missions and activities were all terminated and concluded upon closure at prison.  That is how it all ended.  It ended by [1] shutting off our internal systems, [2] accusing us and imprisoning us as sex offenders for child related crimes (!), and [3] life time monitoring and observation.

Exit to Prison

The ride to the prison was long and tiring.  It was a six hour drive, mostly on an unplanned route, and through many back rural roads.  This route was taken for reasons of safety.  Any inmate that wants to plan an escape would have a hard time determining where the transport vehicle would be.

We rode in a van with three bench seats.  Nine inmates rode inside.  We were all chained together to the inmate next to us.  Up front, sat two guards; the driver and the squad leader.  Both were armed with guns and even though they were nice and polite to us, they would have certainly shot us if we appeared to be a threat to them.  The driver was an older white man in his late 60’s.  He talked to the inmates along the way.  Chatting about the soybean fields that we drove by.  The squad leader was a black woman who was also very nice and professional.  These were just people doing their job.  They weren’t power hungry cops, or egotistical sadistic guards, but just plain, ordinary people doing a job.  We rode in the van listening to the local radio station, which was, for the state where we were incarcerated in; Country Music.

ADC transport van.

.

The van itself was a white plain van marked with the States department of corrections insignia on it.  Covering the windows were long bars of metal so that it was impossible to exit the vehicle, even if it overturned in a mishap.  Up front, in a wire cage directly behind the driver were the sole possessions of each inmate.  All categorized and accounted for inside a brown paper bag, folded and stapled shut with our name and ID number on it.

At one point, the van turned down a rural road, and we saw squads of inmates working the fields.  They were all either marching, or banging away at the ground in their “State Issue” uniforms. 

Hard Labor at the former slave plantation of Brickey’s.

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Each squad was led by an armed corrections officer on horseback.  He held one hand on the horses reign, and the other rested solidly on his powerful .44 magnum Smith & Wesson revolver.  The guards all wore brown vests, a scarf, and a large white cowboy hat that shaded their face.  Most wore sunglasses, but not all did.  They all had on cowboy boots with spurs.  We knew that we would arrive shortly.

Before us, sprawled in the hot fields like a Nazi concentration camp, lay our destination; ADC Brickeys.

Brickeys is also known as the “East Arkansas Regional Unit”.  It is one of the most dangerous prisons in Arkansas.  You can read about it here in the article “These 6 Deadly Prisons Can Only Be Found In Arkansas”.   http://www.onlyinyourstate.com/arkansas/deadly-prisons-ar/
ADC Prison.

You can read the rest of my narrative…

This tires me, exhausts me, and disgusts me. I DO NOT WANT to relive this. I seriously do not want to think about it one single bit. But I am putting it all out there for posterity. Let the world know what is really going on. let everyone come to their own conclusions. That’s what is best.

Childish Gambino – Redbone

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The rest of my narrative and “adventure” is in the MAJestic index here…

MAJestic

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The Deactivation Procedure (How my ELF probes were shut off, and my role within the WU-SAP terminated.) Part 1

This is probably my worst article / post on MM. But it is something that I have to get off my system, and preserve. Thus I present it as is, all in it's own terrible ratty configuration.

If life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.

This post / article discusses what my deactivation procedure was like from my point of view. To an outside observer, I was either lying on the bed thrashing about, or just acting strangely. I will do my best to give the reader a full understanding and the full scope of the experience.

These fuckers had to be shut off. You just don’t deactivate a MAJestic operative without shutting them down. That’s a fact jack.

It’s a difficult thing to relate, and even harder to describe. It also tends to get rather strange at times. But this is what happened. And it is here, recorded for prosperity.

Time to change your switch to "off".

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My deactivation absolutely required that my probes be mothballed.

This was not an easy task, and it required that I be placed in a secure facility, and treated in a special manner .

This section discusses this procedure in the only way that I know how; from the point of view of the person being deactivated.  Because of that, it is confusing and can be misunderstood easily. The reader is reminded that everything that happened is as described from my point of view.

To an outside observer, I was bat-shit crazy.

“Some are born mad, some achieve madness, and some have madness thrust upon 'em.” 

 ― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls 

From what I know now, this procedure is very straight forward from the point of view of an outside observer.  As such, I will try my best to describe it as such.  But in truth, it was anything but easy.  This was my mind that they were dealing with.  And my perceptions, thoughts, feelings, and memories were involved.  Our experiences are colored by all these things, and thus when they are being tampered with, we have a tendency to become disoriented and confused.

Some basic clarification

I was implanted with three groups / clusters of probes.. As a reminder, I was injected with two (x2) “kits” of devices at NAS NASC Pensacola, Florida. And then afterwards I went through a dimensional portal to another place. It was another location and involved another species. That is where I obtained my EBP device.

In total;

  • EBP – Alien manufacture, and installation.
  • ELF Kit #1 – MAJestic “kit”. Basic.
  • ELF Kit #2 – MAJestic “kit”. Advanced with special functions.

Core Kit I probes activated

This process was akin to “waking me up from a long slumber”.  Because while I was actively aware of my role during the operation of the Core Core Kit #2 probes, I had forgotten everything related to and concerning the Core Core Kit #1 probes. 

I knew, but didn't know. My memories were all very remote and empty. It was like when you opened the door to your house two days before Easter ten years ago. You remember it, but it isn't an "active" memory

To shut me off, and deactivate me, the core Core Kit #1 probes had to be reactivated, and from there, shut down manually, once the Core #2 kit was reset. 

There was no easy way to do it. 

For over 30 years had passed since I was last active under the probes effects.  The physical probes had naturally migrated out of their initial set locations, and I needed to be re-calibrated, and engaged for the new locations of the probes.  (In other words, what was once located at the far left of the upper part of my brain, has now moved diagonally towards the back and a little bit to the mid-center.) How to do this was not clean or pleasant.

For me it was hell.

 “She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes…
 She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes…
 She’ll be riding six white horses.
 She’ll be riding six white horses.
 When she comes…”

 -Old Susanna 

It began at lights out. 

It began with “lights out”.

The lights usually shut down at 11:00 pm, but for some reason, the lights out period started at 9:00 pm.  And we all settled down to rest.  I tried to rest.  As I settled down, everything got still and quiet.  I started to drift off to sleep.  My brain waves went from Alpha waves, to beta waves.  My mind started to quiet down.  It was quiet, and peaceful.  But just as I began to drift into sleep; into theta waves, I was suddenly jerked up wide awake. 

Someone, another inmate perhaps, started singing.  This singing was loud and garish.  He sang one old song from the days of the California Gold Rush.  He sang “Old Susanna”.   He wouldn’t let up.  After a full five minutes of this, I was wide awake.  And, he mercifully stopped.

The California Gold Rush (1848–1855) began on January 24, 1848, when gold was found by James W. Marshall at Sutter's Mill in Coloma, California.

"Oh! Susanna" is a minstrel song by Stephen Foster (1826–1864), first published in 1848. It is among the most popular American songs ever written.

I began to rest again. 

And again, as soon as I started to rest and drift off into theta brain wave activity, I was suddenly shaken wide awake.  It was the other man singing “Old Susanna”.  Again this singing continued for about ten more minutes and then stopped.    I was now wide awake.  Tired.  Grouchy, and irritable.  I tried to go back to sleep.

I began to rest again. 

And again, no sooner as I started to rest and drift off into theta brain wave activity, I was suddenly shaken wide awake.  Again, I listened to the crisp old tune of “Old Susanna”.  Again this singing continued for about ten more minutes and then stopped.    I stayed wide awake.  I stayed tired.  I continued to be grouchy, and irritable.  Yet, still, I tried to go back to sleep.

The entire night continued like this.

Each time, as the night wore on, I got angrier and angrier. 

Now, what one must understand is that I was chosen for the program for my ability to control my emotions.  Though my wife might disagree with this appraisal, it was true that I could take a large amount of abuse before I would lash out.  So even though I was terribly tired and exhausted, I didn’t do anything about it.  I just took the abuse in silence.

Until about at around 4:00 am something snapped.

I snapped into a “state”

I cannot relate the exact mechanics of what transpired. 

It reached a point of emotional turmoil, and mental confusion through the accumulation of pressure and the lack of sleep.  In any event, at some point in time, my body and mind just snapped.  That is the best way that I can describe it. 

A feeling of warmth came over me, and I became lucid.  I was no longer sleepy, but alert, calm, and entirely pissed.

Pissed, as in "pissed off" and absolutely furiously angry.

I was frosty calm and pissed off in a way that defies description.

I did not at all have a full recall of my Core Core Kit #1 memories.  But I did have a recall of specialized training that I picked up somewhere (?). 

And that came out in a flood of reactive autonomous movements and gestures.  I found myself exercising and limbering up.  I immediately went into some old martial arts training that I had taken years ago, and I started to organize all my gear.  I made a mental count of everything I owned and this inventory was used for an automatic survival, evasion and escape routine that somehow I had access to.

(How and where did I get this training?  I do not recall.)

Now, in case the reader gets confused, it needs to be clearly pointed out that I did not have any kind of formalized military combat training aside from what I experienced in the Navy at NAS NASC Pensacola. 

Well, mostly that is…

Aside from one or two specialized para-military training camps in Louisiana.  But I put this information here as a full disclosure of my apparent skill sets.I was there because of a"project" that I was involved in. <redacted>  

Just because I had cursory training as a “Swamp Rat” did not make me a professional military fighter or combat soldier.  I only had the most rudimentary training in these fields.  

I was a technical nerd who’s experiences, for the most part, were devoid of any such experiences.

This was a meager amount. 

When you watch television and movies, the heroes all have a great deal of skill and experience with knife fighting, martial arts, weaponry and high duration endurance.  That is fine for the movies, but I was not trained as a navy SEAL, or a member of DELTA team. 

I was more or less a highly technical individual, who through an array of events ended up in this program.  I was not, am not, nor will I ever be a combat fighter.  Yet, for some reason, this persona; a persona of just such a swarthy fellow, took hold of my very being. 

I became that person. 

How, and why, I have no idea.

I started to act… peculiarly.

All of this was not my personality.

At least nothing that I would associate with myself for the last three decades.

What was most astounding was that I started yelling in Chinese.  Now, today, my Chinese linguistic skills are much better than then.  But one must understand that, at that time, I couldn’t tell the difference from between a pair of shoes from a carrot in Chinese.  I possessed absolutely zero Chinese linguistic skill. 

But yet, I found myself shouting in Chinese.  I started to implore the guards for information.  I started to ask them what was going on.  I did so in Mandarin Chinese!

你为什么这样做呢?我在哪里?做了什么我做错了?


Not that anyone else knew what I was saying.  But, for some reason, my automatic reaction; one that I am loathe to recall here, kicked in.  It involved a number of automatic behaviors that I automatically started to adopt. 

These included a [1] calm composure, [2] the ability to think and reason in certain defined patterns, [3] the ability to speak in Chinese, and [4] the knowledge of what to do and how to handle the circumstances that came before me.  It was almost like I was programmed to react in a certain manner under a certain series of events or circumstances.

This concluded until about 6:00 am. 

When I finally was able to rest.  At that time, the staff surrounding my cell and barracks also shut down and left for home.  As they gathered their papers, books and possessions, they commented about the night.  They complained about the costs, but also commented as to how unique the experience was. 

They were curious about me, and they wanted to find out more as to what I was involved in.  They joked about the event, saying to the effect that that was certainly strange and weird.  That it was unexpected that I would know and speak Chinese, but that proved that something that they were told was correct.  They stated that they would keep me under special care and evaluation until the team arrived from Washington to finish the work.

For me, however, everything was different. 

I turned into someone different.

Now, I was someone else.  I was like a robot.  In truth, I was in-between activation’s.  Neither my core Core Kit #1 nor my Core Core Kit #2 probes were apparently activated.  But somehow, through stress and situations they were able to induce upon me some kind of repressed reactive persona. 

This was unexpected by everyone. 

It was certainly unexpected by me. 

I had no idea that this stuff was locked away inside my head.  It was surprising to the staff at the prison as well.  While the doctor and the authorities were apparently told that I would have to be handled in a certain special way, they didn’t believe that anything would actually, really occur.  They thought that it would be just nonsense.  But sure as the day is bright, the manuals were correct and I snapped into a secondary persona.  One that was not to be trifled with.

At this point in time, I was in a “survival” and “protective” persona.  (I found myself walking with “direct registering” and operating in a most observant manner. )

Direct Registering

Walking like a feline in a specific prescribed manner designed for silence and readiness. Felines walk in a stalking silent mode where their hind paws fall inside the place of their forepaws, minimizing noise and visible tracks, while ensuring more stable footing.

A different personality.

This was something that I was unaware I possessed, and the only way and place that I could of obtained these skills was during the week-long absence through the dimensional portal on the base years ago.  In hindsight, I actually now possessed a total of four modes of operation. 

They were;

  • Normal human
  • “Survival” and “Protective” Persona
  • Core Core Kit #1 Activation
  • Core Core Kit #2 Entanglement with the drone

Lord only knows how many personas I have locked away in my brain.  

What did the fucking government do to me?  Are there still other personas that are lying dormant ready to be released under a series of aggressive external stimuli?  I do not know.

I simply do NOT know.

At this time, I was still quite confused as to what was going on.  While I understood where I was and what I was doing there.  All my subsequent history related to the US Navy was still a complete blank. 

I had no idea about the connection between my incarceration and that of my involvement in the MAJestic USAP program.  At that point, I was convinced that it was due to an overly zealous DA, and an unfortunate series of personal events on my behalf.

Turning on the probes

“Courage doesn’t happen when you have all the answers.   It happens when you are ready to face the questions you have been avoiding your whole life.”

― Shannon L. Alder

I spent the entire day in the cell.

.

I spent the entire day in the cell. 

A fore-taste of things to come. Eh?

When it came time for me to eat, I was lead out of my cell by following a special procedure.  In this procedure, six guards came to my cell, they opened the door with an elaborate call out procedure, and each one took up a special role.  One would call out “Prepare to blow the door”, while another would say “On my count, blow the door”, and another would count “3, 2, 1”.  Then they would unlock the door while saying “Blowing the door”.  I think all of this was completely unnecessary.  But they weren’t taking any chances.  When the door was opened, two guards got on both sides of me and grabbed my arms and back collar.  Then they led / carried me out of the cell. 

Blowing the port.
They would line up on both sides of the port and formalize the egress procedure so that I would be more easily controlled when they took me from my cell.

.

While I told them this wasn’t necessary, they told me that this procedure was necessary for everyone’s safety and I had just get along with the program.  So I shrugged my shoulders and said OK.  And thus, I was led to chow hall this way, and returned back to my cell in this matter for reasons of safety for myself and for other inmates.

For most of my evaluation I was brought to mess hall and from it in this manner.  But that is not all that was done. 

When I arrived in the mess hall, I was placed at a table along the wall, and there, standing along the wall was about fifteen guards.  I couldn’t do anything without them subduing me. 

But of course, I did nothing.  I was not crazy, unwise or stupid.  I knew the odds, and why should I do anything anyways?  There was no benefit for me.  The wisest thing for me to do was to follow the program and track that was established for me to its conclusion.

They also heavily sedated me. 

I alone, of all the inmates, was given a glass of orange juice.  And that liquid was severely laced with a medicine known as Chlorpromazine. 

Thioridazine (Mellaril (DE, BD, ET, ID, BR), Melleril.  

It is used in the treatment of schizophrenia.  

But it is also used to control people with behavioral problems because of the way it causes the body to react to external stimuli. 

It works on a variety of receptors in the central nervous system, producing potent anticholinergic, antidopaminergic, antihistaminic, and antiadrenergic effects. Both the clinical indications and side effect profile of CPZ are determined by the broadness of its action: its anticholinergic properties cause constipation, sedation, and hypotension but also help relieve nausea. 

It also has anxiolytic (anxiety-relieving) properties. 

Its antidopaminergic properties can cause extrapyramidal symptoms, such as akathisia (restlessness, aka the 'Thorazine shuffle' where the patient walks almost constantly, despite having nowhere to go due to mandatory confinement, and takes small, shuffling steps) and dystonia.

From the moment I drank this orange juice to all subsequent servings, I knew exactly what was going on. 

My speech became slurred, and while my mind remained sharp and clear, the ability for me to move my body was severely retarded.  For instance, I would want to stand up, but the ability for me to move my legs was severely repressed.  Instead, I would just sit there trying to move, but unable to do so. 

Chlorpromazine

.

It was not at all a pleasant experience.  But rather uncomfortable.  I believe that they gave me a rather high dosage of this chemical, and they kept me sedated throughout my evaluation period.

Since I was under an ELF field, I could easily see the cavitation effects while laying on the bed in my cell.

This period of waiting while under the effects of the drug, and being sedated was short lived.  After two days, the team of experts arrived from Washington, and my deactivation procedure began. 

The truth is that I assumed that they were from Washington, D.C.  They could have been from anywhere.  What I did know was that they were not local to the state where I was, and thus they had to be flown in from out of state.  Their names, and point of origin, as well as their backgrounds are all unknown to me.

Retirement Team flown in

"[UFOs are] considered top secret by intelligence officers of both the Army and the Air Forces."   

--From a declassified 1949 FBI document from the San Antonio FBI office, to J. Edgar Hoover.

I knew something was “afoot” when I was moved from my upper tier cell, to a (special) first floor cell. 

This refers to the knowledge that something is occurring behind the observed scenery, which might directly affect someone or something.

This was cell number 7. 

It was a “special” cell. 

To an outside observer it was a cell like any other.  But this one was quite different.  For starters, the wall graffiti was different.  In most cells, and wall graffiti involved curse words, stick figures showing genital areas and perhaps a statement about prison life.  Like “I’ll be back!”, and “The food here blows”. However, this cell was different. 

The graffiti in this cell was unique.  Instead of curse words, there were words related to thoughts and actions.  For instance, next to the rack was the phrase “Be careful what you say.”  And, over the door, were the words that stated “Do nothing stupid.”  And near the sink, and the air vent, and the foot of the bed were drawings of three triangles.  The drawings showed the triangles lined up in a row.

Three triangles.
Three triangles with a line drawn through them.

.

They had kept me heavily sedated on Chlorpromazine because I was apparently unpredictable and dangerous.  It was a safety precaution, though I told them repeatedly that I wasn’t going to do anything.  The purpose of this cell was to put me into a specially constructed cell that was functionally intended for the ELF decommissioning procedure.

The cell was on the first floor and it was a little different than the others. 

One of the problems that I had while the ELF filed was turned on was the heat that was being generated by my body.  So this cell had an extra high capacity fan that was used to exhaust the air quickly.  It was also grounded as a kind of faraday cage.  However, the sink was not properly grounded, and was disconnected from the metal supports due to corrosion.  Therefore whenever I went near it I would get a most terrible shock.

Also in this cell were some graffiti and doodles that you would find in any cell.  Except this cell had the three triangle nomenclature that I recognized so well.  It also had graffiti specifically pointing the locations of the microphone and the closed circuit camera. 

Though I didn’t need the graffiti to show me these items. 

Perhaps the most notable thing about this particular cell was outside of it.  Directly outside the cell was the three embedded triangular feducial markings.  If I were to stand up straight at the door to the cell, I would be able to focus directly at the feducials.

When looking out of the door to my cell I could see two individuals discussing things with the Captain of the guards, and the head of the Prison System’s Psychiatric Unit.  They were wearing suits and ties, which is quite different from that of most white color employees local to the region.  Due to the heat, most local white collar employees tended to wear collared short sleeve polo shirts.  I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they would occasionally look over my way and continue talking like I was a slab of beef or some other object of little importance.

I could talk directly to the ELF team

With my probes now fully engaged and my cell irradiated with ELF radiation everything that I would say was heard directly to the ELF control station (in Minnesota) I could talk and they would answer me. Not only that, but I could whisper and they would be able to talk back to me.

It’s all pretty odd. And no we did not get “chummy”.

For instance, I told the on-site staff at the prison facility to adjust the amplitude of the gain on the ELF waves, and I was able to tell them it’s “size” relative to my cell. They had the gain really high and I took it down about six steps and then one step up. (For personal comfort.)

The Deactivation Procedure

It was around 6:00pm when the deactivation procedure began.  I had been given an extremely large dose of medication during dinner and it was just then beginning to affect me. 

I was sitting on my rack, wanting to lie down, but being unable to do so easily.  Eventually I was able to collapse onto the bed, but I did not lie down comfortably, but rather laid on my bed in a half-on, half-off manner.  My legs were still in a sitting position, but my head was on the pillow.  I laid on my side with my arm extended half off the bed.

I was in a near comatose state. The Thorazine was hitting me hard.

Cell #7 in the Evaluation Barracks.

.

I immediately knew that there was “something going on” whenever I felt an electric wave travel through my body and when I looked up at the ceiling, I “saw” cavitation effects. 

Cavitation is the visual effect inside my visual cortex that indicates harmonics formed by the ELF waves in a confined space.  In the test chamber at China Lake NWC I could see the effects though they were obscured by the confusing array of the grey triangles that dotted the walls. 

But here in the white cinderblock cell, they were obvious.  They appeared to me as waves and rows of grey worm like distortions. 

While I still didn’t remember anything of my relevant past, it seemed quite familiar and strikingly disturbing.  Losing control of one’s mind, and the observation of what could be hallucinations, is not something that you want to experience in prison.

That evening, as I relaxed on my rack, I suddenly saw the sudden bright flashes of light in my head.  Just as quickly, in a short span of time, numbering in the milliseconds, a new vision flooded my visual cortex. 

With it…

… came an awareness.

But it wasn’t long before I really and truly and completely knew what was truly going on. 

For in a short period of time I lost all external vision and the ELF calibration screen flooded my visual cortex.  And, while I am kind of ashamed to admit it, again I was intrigued by the red edges of the pastel landscape. 

The ELF calibration screen filled my eyesight and consisted of "hills" and "valleys" upon an undulating terrain map that I would be able to navigate a reticle upon. 

Without thinking too deeply about it, I started to look and peer intently into the imagery.  Without thinking, I said out loud, “I wonder what those red cracks are”, and was equally surprised when a loud voice flooded my mind. 

An unknown man sternly replied “Shut up!  Concentrate on centering the reticle like you were trained to do!”

Ah, such reminders. 

Unknown to my handler, this was an exact duplicate of the same event decades earlier.  There, I also made inquiries of the reddish edges.  And then, they also told me to ignore those colors and concentrate on the task before me. 

All of this became evident.  The true and actual awareness flooded my mind when the pastel map appeared.  This is a map that I hadn’t seen for over 30 years.  It was so long ago I forgot all about it.  While the life with the interaction of the drone was known to me and understood, the life of the ELF core kit was forgotten. 

The last time I had used it was for some minor tasks back in the 1990’s, when I was recalled for some domestic activities.  At that time, I was temporarily tasked to <redacted>.

The reticle on the map was terribly out of place.  It was way out to the left of where it should have been, and, I used the time to put it back where it belonged.  As soon as the reticle went back in place, my normal eyesight returned.  But, I could easily tell that I was in the presence of the ELF field.  I knew, somewhat, what was going on.  Indeed, I could see the cavitation effects in the cell all around me.  And, to my amazement, but not without some concern, dolefully centered the reticle in the proper area.  And the pastel map disappeared and I was back in my evaluation cell.

I looked up at the ceiling and saw the cavitation effects clearly.  Now, the reader might think that I would have full and immediate recall of everything that I had ever experienced at this point.  And that I would also understand what I was going through and why.  But the truth was that I did not.  I was confused, a bit scared, and completely in a quandary over this entire situation.

It truthfully took me at least two days to fully recall what was going on and why.  In the meantime, I had a deactivation procedure to endure, and at this state, the hell was only just starting.  As I recall, I was only finally to put all the pieces together when I looked outside the door to my cell.  For there, directly opposite to my door, was the triangle shaped feducials embedded in the cinder-block wall of the intake facility!

What it sort of looked like.

.

Was I actually a Sex Offender?

“The greatest prison that people live in is the fear of what other people think.”

—Unknown

Actually, the first task, once the deactivation team arrived, was to meet the qualifications and expectations of the facility itself.  Those expectations were as I discussed earlier.  It was, after all, why I signed the waiver of my Constitutional rights. 

Our founders set up a brilliant system which has served the country well for over two centuries. What people seem to forget is our system of government wasn’t set up to create a new set of parental authority figures for the public. 

The entire intent behind the Constitution was to create a series of checks and balances to restrain government from becoming too powerful and working against the interests of the public. 

Government’s primary role in America is supposed to be to protect the Constitution and defend the cherished civil liberties defined within it. 

Today, it does precisely opposite. 

Our government isn’t just corrupt though. Indeed, the primary function of government at the moment is to protect status quo criminals from the public, not the other way around. This is why the rich and powerful are never held to account, which is in turn why it continues to get worse and worse.

Was a danger to the community as a Sexual Offender?  Was I a [1] pedophile or a [2] predator that would prey on people or little children?  Did I have a [3] secret history that others need to be told about?  Have I [4] hurt someone in my deep, dark, remote past?  They needed to know just how [5] licentious I actually was.  These questions needed to be answered.

From the point of view of everyone there, with the exception of the two “experts” that were flowing in to supervise this procedure, no one knew the answer. 

So they had to run the necessary tests to determine this.  But, unlike many other inmates, this would be much easier for them to find out, because, here (in my case) they have a hard-wired conduit direct to my brain and they could actively monitor how my brain would react to thoughts, and images placed there.

Not to mention that the Navy, or the MAJestic arm of the Navy, had a complete record of everything that I did.  From phone records for the last thirty years, candid photographs of me and my wife in hotel rooms (!) and in our house (!), a completely compiled dossier of my medical history and a listing of every (MAJestic) operation that I had ever participated in. 

Though, I am sure that that dossier would not of been shared with anyone outside of the MAJestic organization.

MAJestic knew EVERYTHING about me. 

But, the State where I was incarcerated did not. 

The team had to follow the law, [1] determine how severe a “Sex Offender” I actually was, while at the same time [2] permitting MAJestic to “disable my lethalness” and render me “inoperable” as an agent.

Most people are not aware of this, but not all "sexual offenders" are the same. While everyone gets classified as a Sexual offender, they have a secondary rating that is used to determine their frequency of monitoring and their restrictions.

The scale goes from a 1, which is a minor level offender, up to a 3 / 4 (depending on the state where you live) as the worst of the worst.

While, I am sure, the State officials did not have the clearances to know everything that I was involved in, they did have the right to know my medical, mental and criminal histories as compiled by MAJestic.  And that, it was certain, was enough to dispel any doubts about my threat level assessment.   Though, since they did contact the MAJestic authorities (somehow, maybe they were notified by triggering an access query for my records), they realized that I was “somehow” connected to the US government in some high capacity level. 

What they thought it was is anyone’s guess.  However, they probably envisioned something that Hollywood would dream up.

CIA scene from one of the Jason Bourne movies.

.

That’s the way it works you know.  We can only envision what we have been exposed to.  For most unusual events, the exposure experience is “Hollywood”.

Again, while the procedure was complicated in actual implementation, the core basic theory behind it was quite simple.  My visual cortex would be flooded with an image or series of images, or video movie routines.  How my body reacted to those images would be noticed and recorded.  If my penis would become erect that, for instance, would show the possible potential for interest in that picture or image. 

Good luck with that.  Once a man gets older, spontaneous erections are very rare.  In fact, any kind of erection is a rare event.

Though in truth, they did not need to observe me get erections by. looking at pictures. All they needed to do is to monitor my brainwaves. The Thorazine reduced my body to “sluggish jello” while keeping my mind clear and focused. Yet at the same time, by emotions were all very calm. Thus, any reaction to images that I would see (and after all they had a complete pathway to my visual cortex through the ELF Kit #1 probes) could be observed by the monitoring of my brainwaves.

But since they now had the probes inside my head they could actually determine is the image was pleasurable or disgusting to me.  And it was that by which they measured my interest. 

There was no running away from it. They could tell, through the reactions in my brain, what interest that I had in sex, children, and images and whether or not I had any tendencies to harm, hurt or bother others in pursuit of said interests.

“If you would know a man, observe how he treats a cat.”

-Robert Heinlein in The Door into Summer.

In hindsight, it is interesting that I was arrested for the unproven potential for having an image on a computer that I owned, but whether this was an indicator of my threat to society was another matter entirely. 

Actually the mere presence of a file on a computer, by itself, does not mean that it was used or accessed by a person.  That has to be determined by computer forensics.  There, an IT professional can determine when the file was last accessed, what program accessed it, and for how long it was accessed.  A longer period of forensic study can identify how the file got onto the computer, and when.  But the mere presence of an illegal photo does not imply that the owner of the computer used, viewed or even knew that that file existed. 

The same is true for a farmer who owns 1000 acres of land.  The presence of two or three marijuana plants on this property does not imply that he was aware of them, cultivated them, or had any interest in growing them. 

But it is easy for a Congressman to make a law saying that if a marijuana plant was on your property, you were De Facto a cultivator of that drug.

The criminal and legal systems must be specifically worded and carefully followed specifically with neutral intent towards obtainment of the truth, and whether true criminal intent was present. 

But all that is meaningless. 

A direct interpretation of the law simply states that if you possess an item that is illegal, you have broken the law.  The old saying that “Intent is 9/10’s of the law” is an obsolete phrase that has no place in modern American law.

This entire theory is disgusting and disturbing to me.  Does that mean that if I watched a movie about Hitler that I was a follower of his policies?  Or that if someone flashed a picture to me in a mere fraction of a second that I would treasure that image and cultivate it in my mind over and over again, eventually becoming a dangerous maniac? 

Most human brains operate at 4 Hz.  Most computers operate at 3 GHz.  Or in other words, flashing an image on the computer screen at 3Gz cannot be seen by the human brain.  

The only way that it would be seen is if the picture froze in place for 4 x 1024,000,000 Hz.  (1GHz = 1024 MHz).  That is a real long time for a computer.  

That is why computer forensics is so important.  To watch and look at a picture, humans tend to look, or gawk at it for substantially longer than their brains work.  Suppose it would take 30 seconds, or in this case 30x4x1024,000,000 computer cycles at least.  

A true prosecutor should need to show that the image was OBSERVED rather than just a file on a computer.  In any event, this is all academic.  The law says one thing, and if you have a file on your computer, it doesn’t matter how it got there or whether you looked at it or not.  

You become guilty.

Obviously the laws and the system behind them were more akin to a huge dragnet rather than a surgical investigative attack on dangerous community predators.  But that is how the state dealt with these issues, and I was caught in the system.  My place was not to wonder why, but rather to survive the ordeal as they “investigated” me.

This is an interesting subject, and one that I have spent many years considering.  That is because the systems in place currently in the United States, on both the State and the Federal level seem to violate the core principles of common law.  

In those principles, a law is something that protects the rights and privileges of another. 

For instance, you can’t steal someone’s horse because it is a violation of another’s property ownership rights.  Or you cannot kill someone because it is a violation of their God-given right of existence.  

So, this being said, what property right, personal right, or sovereign right of a nation is being enforced by those laws related to possession of a banned substance or article?  

As it stands, the law is contorted into something else entirely.  In this convolution, it is the [1] premise of the potential for wrongdoing that is [2] evidenced by the suggestion of improper thought, through [3] possession of a banned object that is the driving force behind the laws as written.
Scene from “A Clockwork Orange”.
When a person is revolted, or shocked, or experiences emotion, the body chemistry changes. If you are in love, your body becomes filled with emotion. If you are in fear, your body is also filled with different chemicals. And dogs can sense this. With the proper equipment it can also be measured remotely.

.

In any event, a period of time was devoted to determining whether I was a threat to society based on my body’s reactions to injected visual imagery into my cerebral cortex.

Actually by measuring the activity in my  anterior dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, a region that is involved in suppressing emotional responses, and the inferior frontal gyrus, an area responsible for evaluating social behavior and cooperation, the investigators could get a much better understanding of my individual motivations than only just relying on my more primitive cerebral functions.  Luckily for me, I have over thirty years of ELF monitoring of this, but I don’t think that anyone told the medical staff at the diagnostic facility about that.

While I lay there on the rack, images started to flood my mind.  Each image enveloped my entire visual cortex and paused there for five seconds.  Apparently, it took from three to five seconds to determine how my body would react to these images. 

It began easily enough with “soft” images.  There were pictures of trees, plants, zoo animals, ocean scenes, fish, clouds and other nice and pleasant imagery.  Then, they slowly started to insert pictures of girls.  Some clothed, some in bathing suits, and some nude. 

In short order the pictures started to diversify. 

Some were pictures of thin girls, some were girls with large mammary breasts, and some were pictures of girls with long legs.  Some pictures included children, while other pictures included animals. 

Over a short period of time, the pictures became more diversified.  There were pictures of piles of shit, urine and feces.  There were pictures depicting torture, rotting things, and pictures of extreme violence. 

There were totally repugnant pictures and pictures of absolute pleasantry.  All of my reactions to each of these pictures were then assigned a series of values and were mapped out on a grid. 

The grid was a graphical display of my overall sexual interests. 

In it, various characteristics, regarding my heartbeat, electro-biological chemistry, and physical reactions were mapped and put down upon the display.  For me, as I lay there listening in on the discussions surrounding me, was rather plain and boring.  I had a sharp “drop off”, as most normal humans would, regarding death, violence, feces, and odd sexual acts. 

I also had a normal transition of interest from beautiful, to cute, to attractive, to stimulating.  This gradient needed to be present, for that defines discernment.  This is a characteristic of a normal childhood, and thankfully I had a solid grounding in that area.  

I had no sexual interest in children, but rather a kind of parental protectiveness seemed to emerge during the evaluation.  I had no interest in pursuing anything or a desire to “still” or “hold” the image.  This was indicative of a general apathy towards possession and possessiveness.  That was certainly not a trait of a sexual predator. 

I held strong emphatic reactions that clearly showed that I was not a sociopath, nor did I exhibit odd thinking or reasoning patterns in my brain that were indicative of mental instability in one form or the other.  I was surprisingly normal, perhaps a little bit sexually conservative (maybe even embarrassingly puritan in some ways), but aside from that rather normal.

Anyways, that what they said, and I heard them say that. How would you like to be classified as “Puritan” in your sexual interests?

Furthermore, the graph most certainly showed areas in which I had a great deal of sexual attractiveness towards.  Not every man is the same, and for me, it appeared, that I had a strong preference in curvy woman with large chests and long legs.  I was also fond of wide shoulders (?) for some unknown reason. 

My tests showed a predilection towards woman who would be able to have these physical features, which involved girls as young as in their early 20’s, and as old as I was.  But there was a rather severe drop off as they approached the age that I would consider to be my daughter.  At that point, a different series of emotions came into play with were of a parental protective nature.

All in all, my tests were normal.

In comparison with others who went through this evaluation with me, (apparently) my graph was smaller and more limiting.  Others were not so disturbed by certain kinds of sexual positions, or actions.  They also tended to be “more open minded” about same-sex fetishes than I was. 

They said that I was “bland” and “boring”. How would you like to be considered to be “plan vanilla”, “bland and boring” regarding sex?

My graph was indicative of a rather defined line that separates repulsion, neutrality, and attraction.  For me, my graph was indicative of “traditionally oriented sexual attractiveness”.  In no way was there any hint of an interest in child porn, sex with a child, voyeurism, necrophilia, bondage, S &M, observing violent sexual fantasies, nor anything related to sex outside of a more or less male to female orientation.  I was just conventional; plain and ordinary.

This test lasted approximately five hours.  And the conclusions were final, and without question.  I was [1] not a threat to society, nor was [2] I at all interested in any kind of sexual activity with a child. It also showed that [3] I was not violent or enjoyed violence in any way.

Upon conclusion of this part of the test, there was an apparent break, and I was able to lay back and relax.  I just listen to them discuss my brain and interests.  Apparently, somehow they were able to see the images that they placed in my visual cortex.  And they commented on them.  Some would say that the picture was funny, or disgusting, or really attractive.  It was an interesting dialog, but I didn’t care.  I was tired, as it took a lot of work to endure the test, and I was very tired, as well as very hot.  During the test, the probes in my brain generate heat, and unless I am able to cool down, it could kill me.  So I just laid back, and drifted off to sleep with my head buried into my soaking-wet pillow.

What did I recall?

Since it was now determined that I was not a danger to anyone, and thus the sole remaining procedure remaining was to retire my probes. 

This should have been rather easy, you would think. 

You would just turn the “on” switch to “off”.  But that isn’t the way it worked, and for me, it was neither simple, nor easy.

In order to first shut down the probes, there had to be a [1] complete reawakening of brain, followed by a [2] downloading (of sorts) of what I knew and experienced, followed by a [3] re-compartmentalization of memories.  This was to be conducted in a certain way, because if not done so properly, certain memories would persist, while others would be erased. 

Thus a dangerous condition could inadvertently be created. 

It could possibly create a person with patches of memories, and skill sets, all completely out of their proper context.  And that is a dangerous precedent. Just like “Nomad” in the Star Trek series…

The Changeling (1968)

.

Ye Gods!  I might relive the “The Changeling (1967)” episode from Star Trek.  Where some memories that I should of forgotten be remembered, and others that I should of remembered be forgotten.  The reality of a bastardized memory stack was a frightening possibility.

A malfunctioning space probe, Nomad, comes aboard the Enterprise, mistaking Kirk for its creator. The half-earth, half-alien probe thinks it has orders to sterilize imperfect life-forms, and the crew has to find a way to keep it under control before it kills them.  

Its original orders were to find life-forms, but it had merged with another probe whose orders were to sterilize imperfect minerals.  

When combined, and placed out of the proper context, a hybrid creature; Nomad, was created.  Whose goal and objective was the perverted “Find life-forms, and sterilize all imperfect life-forms”. 

-https://www.hulu.com/watch/283817

The second task took all day, and began right after breakfast the next day.  Again, like I had been all week, I was provided a large dose of medication to control me, and I just went to my rack and lay down. 

This was an important exercise, as all my core Core Kit #1 interlocks were removed, and all my memories were made accessible to me. 

From an observer in the barracks, nothing at all was going on, but that was completely illusionary.  To everyone else, I was alone, lying down on my rack. But in my mind a pure cascade of thoughts and images flooded my mind. 

Not only that, but the activation protocol was engaged.  That meant a full power ELF field, and a constant and steady background cadence was present to my ears.

A steady and constant cadence was played in my head. It was constant and it lasted for the ten days or so that I was being evaluated.

While I understood the purpose of the pastel map and the movement of the reticle, I still did not have any recollection of my memories about the ELF Core Kit.  That would only come about once my memories were unlocked. 

To unlock my memories a sequence of commands must be issued from the control booth external to my body.  I cannot do that myself.

The diagnostic screen appeared briefly.  In a flash I could see the screen overlaid in my field of sight.  I watched as the icons were clicked and activated in quick succession.  Whomever was doing this was quite skilled in doing so.  This overlay and the resultant operation passed away quickly, perhaps under three minutes, and then the screen disappeared.  Then everything went calm again.

And then, slowly, one by one, (all the rest of) my memories returned.

Unlike the memory retrieval at NAS China Lake, this was a much more arduous process.  The reasons for this, perhaps, were many.  For one, a much larger period of time had elapsed.  When I was at China Lake, a period of around three years had elapsed. 

But at this time, a far larger period of time had elapsed and this period of time was over thirty years. 

As time wears on, the memories become embedded deeper and deeper in the records of one’s past.  As such, it becomes comparatively more difficult to retrieve them.  Additionally, other memories, not repressed, crowd out the significance of the repressed memories.  Thus, a sorting and prioritizing technique must be employed by the agent to figure out exactly what was transpiring, what had transpired, and why.  This was not easy, and as the pieces to the huge puzzle of my life started to come together, I was at times amazed, shocked, and disgusted as to the kind of life that I had lived.

Pieces fell into place. Connections were made, and mysteries that I wondered about (Like “why did I do that?) all started to make sense.

As these memories flooded my consciousness, somehow the operators were able to observe the snatches that would flutter by in my visual cortex.  I was being monitored, and as these memories arose others would view them, and at times comment on them.

From my perspective

At this time, the world that I was involved is was quite unique and unusual.  What I was experiencing; what I was seeing and hearing was oblivious to the outside world.  I was trapped inside a world of my own. 

My brain saw and heard sounds and visions that only I could see and experience.

In my mind, I could [1] hear the chatter from the ELF control staff.  I could [2] listen to my handlers, the [3] program managers and the [4] operators at their stations.  It was like I was on speaker-phone and I could (judging from the volume and the echoes in the room) determine their relative positions within the ELF control room.

I could also [5] overhear the local medical staff in the diagnostic facility talking about me to the [6] “experts” flown in to evaluate me. 

I could also [7] hear the rest of the barracks, which was now just beginning to be repopulated with other inmates.  All of this confusion passed through my senses with an [8] underlying “awakening” cadence that was put in place by my handlers.

Reactions of the others

Of course, to everyone else in the barracks I was a raving loon.  I was talking to myself, conducting focusing exercises to center upon the feducials.  I looked like a complete nut.  But something else was also happening.  Others were listening to me.  The doctors and the guards were listening in on the chatter with my handlers.  Some of the inmates were also listening in. 

It was because of these alert few that directed the attention of the other inmates to what was going on and to whom I really was.  In a short period of time, almost the entire barracks knew who I really was, and why I was truly and actually there. 

This was absolutely unexpected.  No, not everyone knew.  But there was a significant number of both guards, and inmates that knew that I was a “special” inmate and that I had a “special” background. 

They also knew that I was there for reasons other than why I was there “officially”.

To show their respect for me they would honor me.  To be honest, the method of showing honor to me was alien to my experiences.  They were obvious respectful gestures, but I had never experienced them before.

Respect and other strange observances

All through the day, various inmates, and guards as well, would come near to my cell.    They would stand next to the door.

Everyone (in the barracks) knew what was going on.  They all knew that I was being “retired” or in prison for some kind of special government operation. As such, they all showed me respect.

They wouldn’t salute or anything like that, but they would stand tall with their back straight.  They would hold a small torn piece of paper in their palm.  In that paper were three letters.  The initials of the person honoring me.  They then folded the small ½ inch long sized scrap of paper into a butterfly shape and softly blow it towards my cell. 

This went on all day.  And when I returned back from dinner at the chow hall, I found that someone had taken all the tiny slips of paper, now numbering 60 or 70 and put them in the grill vent in my cell.  I can tell you that while it was certainly an uncomfortable experience being in prison, and getting accused like I was, to have this level of respect and support was meaningful and import to me. 

It touched me.

(I do not know the origins of this ritual.  I have never seen it before, and it was not part of my training in the Navy.  But the standardization of it was suggestive of some kind of military ritual, of which I knew nothing of.  To this day it remains a mystery to me.  How could dozens of strangers all act uniformly towards me in this way?  I do not know.)

During this entire time period, as long as the cadence was on, and they were reviewing my experiences, I tended to act, talk, and walk differently.  It was as if I was still in training in the Navy.  It was like I was a drill instructor or some other kind of military automation.  I couldn’t help it.  I automatically took on that persona, and that is who I was and what I was during this period of time.

Scrolling through my memories

I am sure that there were a lot of interesting memories tucked away inside my brain.  After all, I not only operated as a normal human, but I also shared my experiences with an entangled drone. 

All of my memories for the over thirty years that I was entangled are now shared experiences and shared memories. 

But, what they wanted to do was look for specific memory sets, isolate them, and sever my access to them.

When the command to unlock it was received, the memories came back in a flood.  Apparently, the longer the memories lie dormant within the brain the more painful they are to extract them. 

Correction. It is not necessarily a painful experience, than it is a jarring one. 

For with each memories comes with its own associated emotions.  The memories of what it was like in flight school, as well as the time of being a newlywed at China Lake all flooded my body. 

To handle this flood of memories the beat tempo was broadcast to my auditory center.  This helped me to handle the memories and emotions.  There were different kinds of tempos.  This was a military march beat with underlining references towards the song that I selected as my favorite song back when I first signed up into the program. 

This tempo caused me to maintain a military bearing just like I maintained it at NAS NASC Pensacola, Florida.  Of course, the rest of the inmates thought that I was a little bonkers.  But the team who was deprogramming me knew exactly what was going on at the time.

Reviewing the “Discovery” paperwork

In Law, “discovery” is the exchange of legal information and known facts of a case. Think of discovery as obtaining and disclosing the evidence and position of each side of a case so that all parties involved can decide what their best options are – move forward toward trial or negotiate an early settlement.

-What Is Discovery? – Legal Meaning

Critical to the identification of whether I was a criminal or not, was a reviewing of the “Discovery” documentation that was used by the DA and prosecutor to convict me. 

Correction. They did not use it to convict me. They threatened me with 80 years in Prison that would be determined by a panel of Jurists from rural Arkansas. 

They offered me a plea bargain of 6-9 months in home detention and my record expunged if I agreed to possession of two images. I did so. And the DA used sign language to raise the sentence with the Judge.

The purpose of the prosecutor is to prosecute and to win a conviction.  He has no motivation or concern about the real truth or the causes of any given crime event. 

His job and the ability to rise within his career is based solely in his ability to convict others. 

A “Discovery” is a document listing the findings by the detective on the case.

Like the prosecutor, the detective has no real stake in finding out the relative truth in a crime.  Their purpose is only to support the conviction by the prosecutor.  The detective generates a document called a “Discovery” that lists the findings.  My “Discovery” was about 60 pages long.  In it was a boiler plate background on how most Child Predators were loners and who had antisocial tendencies, but could adequately fit into society. 

My “discovery” consisted of two cover pages directly concerning my findings, and 58 pages of “boiler plate” data regarding sexual predatory behaviors.  There was nothing about my mental history, or background at all in it. 

Only the first two pages in the 60 page document listed anything directly relating to me.  In that there were [1] the references to the two pictures that a doctor, working for the Arkansas Police, claimed was a person that could be under the age of 18.  It also discussed [2] that I had thousands of porn pictures on the CDROMS in the storage box.  But they were not illegal.  They also (curiously) made note that I had [3] pictures of German military tanks and weapons from World War II, and that this was indicative of the possibility that I had neo-Nazi leaning tendencies. 

Compared my known histories

They compared my known histories and reviewed my training.  To my surprise I also had memory blackout of various paramilitary course, and education. 

This was certainly curious.  As even while I was entangled I had completely forgot about all subsequent training.

One was involved in the “Louisiana Swamp Rats”.  This was, at one time, a hard-core para-military training center. 

Others discussed my advanced education, and still others related some of the various minor tasks that I was called upon to do, that weren’t so minor after all.  My favorite quote was when one of the observers said that I was part mountain man, part bear, and part Einstein.  That comment, well, it made my day.

They made many such statements; but I am afraid that I cannot remember all of them.

Because of the inadequacies in the Discovery, the team went inside my memories to extract what I had actually done.  This was an interesting experience, where they probed the innermost workings of my mind. 

They compared my physical reactions to ELF generated pulses.  Trying to trigger any sort of aggressive or antisocial tendencies.  Of course, since I was previously vetted, none could be found, so my case was closed. 

And I was assigned a low threat level.

I was assigned a level #1 threat level.  

Running the software routines


“I'm lonely, he thought.

Distantly he heard soft, high voices.

He turned his eyes in upon a vision. There was a group of hills from which flowed a clear river, and in the shallows of that river, sending up spray, their faces shimmering, were the beautiful women. They played like children on the shore. And it came to Forester to know about them and their life. They were nomads, roaming the face of this world as was their desire. There were no highways or cities, there were only hills and plains and winds to carry them like white feathers where they wished. As Forester shaped the questions, some invisible answerer whispered the answers. There were no men. These women, alone, produced their race. The men had vanished fifty thousand years ago. And where were these women now? A mile down from the green forest, a mile over on the wine stream by the six white stones, and a third mile to the large river. There, in the shallows, were the women who would make fine wives, and raise beautiful children.

Forester opened his eyes. 

The other men were sitting up.

"I had a dream."

They had all dreamed.

"A mile flown from the green forest a mile over on the wine stream . . . ."
". . . by the six white stones," said Koestler.
". . . and a third mile to the large river," said Driscoll, sitting there.

Nobody spoke again for at moment. 

They looked at the silver rocket standing there in the starlight"

Do we walk or fly, Captain?"

Things were very weird for me. 

I cannot express how unusual this situation was for me.  Not only from the environment surrounding me, but also from what my mind and emotions were experiencing.  It is hard to describe, but when a person’s mind, memories and thoughts are being accessed what one experiences (at that time) becomes “outside the normal”. 

What happens, is that the mind tries to piece together, in a logical fashion, what is occurring.  It does this even if what is occurring is illogical.  The end result becomes a confused jumble of events, sequences of events, emotions, sensory impressions and memories that are all entangled in a huge mess of confusion.

I had amazingly vivid dreams, and a convoluted mixture of past memories, shared drone experiences, current events, and embedded program “movies” or “subroutines” all flooded my mind. 

Trying to piece them all together was rather impossible and difficult. 

I will not relate here what I experienced.  For, as far as I am concerned, they are nothing less than visual hallucinations.  And, thus have no useful purpose in this extracted dialog.  Because of this, I will refrain from relating the fantastical impressions that I experienced during this time. 

They serve no benefit to the reader.

That being stated, there are other aspects of this period that are truly significant.  These are themselves worthy of discussion.  What is interesting are a number of events that are special “retirement” programs. 

These routines ran in my mind with [1] audio, [2] visual, and [3] tactile impressions. 

The senses of taste and smell were absent from these experiences.

That means that I was living or reliving these experiences as if they were actually happening.  When, I knew that they were not real at all, but rather programs that ran inside my brain.

So…

Once the “on” switch was set to “off”, a set number of closure routines rain inside my brain. These routines were amazing as it was as if I were experiencing them physically. Not that I was reliving a memory, or watching a television show.

I have speculated that these routines ran from a source outside of my human consciousness and that their operation was directed through the controllers at the ELF facility that was decommissioning me.  But this is speculation only.  I say this because I do not believe that the probes had any kind of software that met these stated capabilities.

There were a number of such programs. 

I can recall about 12 in total.  I will relate three of the most significant.  One must keep in mind that these are the retirement events based upon what responses that I gave on the questionnaire before I entered the dimensional field.  A person with different answers would of experienced different software programs.

Or, alternatively, the same program, but with different variables and emotional content.  This is all speculation on my part.

The programs that I shall relate here are;

  • The gathering of the retirement programs
  • The promise of a new life awaits me upon retirement.
  • The retirement of the “spirit of a Marine” (within the hilt of a sword).

Needless to explain, all these experiences are extremely personal and private. 

As such, it will be very difficult for me to relate the emotional impact running these confusing program events were to me.  But I will do my best to relate them. 

The names and titles that I provide here are my own. 

Please understand that these programs are designed to evoke mental and emotional responses used to satiate the need for curiosity and to add full and complete closure to my experiences in a friendly and caring way. 

Even though those Fuckers turned me into a sex offender and gave me five years at hard labor.

The closure subroutines are not meant to hurt, harm, or belittle me in any way.  But rather, are intended to close out my role comfortably and with compassion, all the time meeting the overall goal of maintaining program secrecy.

The reader must keep in mind that someone had to write these programs that did these things.  Someone had to conceive of them, and someone had to design and implement them.  They did not just “pop up” out of nowhere.

Shutting off system access, memories, and communication links.
Shutting off system access, memories, and communication links.

The gathering of the retirement programs

It was going to be a long night. 

I knew it, you know.  It was one of those feelings that one gets when they watch a darkness brewing out off in the ocean.  It was eerie.  It was a kind of gathering of clouds, metaphorically speaking.  Soft but ultimately a foreboding of impending doom.

During this entire two week period the field was never turned off.  It remained on, and I was under the constant onslaught of its effects.  It affected me in various ways.  But I could certainly tell when an individual program ran.  This is because the implanted probes would switch on various parts of my brain and interact with them in clearly unnatural, and often uncomfortable, ways. 

What is explained at this point might be a bit confusing.  I describe what my visual cortex “saw” and how I felt during this period.  To everyone else in the prison facility, I was lying alone on my rack in the tiny cell.  (Mumbling, perhaps yelling… certainly trembling and sweating.)  One needs to keep this in mind.  As all the events that are now described happened only in my mind and were oblivious to everyone except those handlers who were monitoring my mind and watching the programs interact with my brain.

Thus, I knew that I was entering a program when suddenly my visual cortex switched on and my audio and tactile responses became noticeably different. 

In this case, what would best be described as a lucid dream, with full auditory, tactile and visual stimulation flooded my mind. 

It was, from my point of view, nearly indistinguishable from reality. 

Nearly, does not mean totally, and to this end I want to convey to the reader that from my point of view it was like participating in a 6D movie.  It was real enough, but easily distinguishable from reality.

The best way to describe this was as if I was inside a “holodeck” much like was in the Star-Trek series.  It was just a large dark chamber that seemed real enough to me.

A holodeck, in the fictional Star Trek universe, is a simulated reality facility located on star-ships and star-bases. Most holodeck programs shown in the episodes run in first person "subjective mode", in which the user actively interacts with the program and its characters. The user may also employ third-person "objective mode", in which he or she is "apart" from the actual running of the program and does not interact with it.
A holodeck, in the fictional Star Trek universe, is a simulated reality facility located on star-ships and star-bases.

.

I found myself standing inside a large dark chamber. 

I couldn’t see the extent of the chamber as everything was dark and black.  Where I was standing was illuminated in some way and showed the presence of twelve individuals or life-size Figures. 

These figures stood frozen without moving.  Like large chess pieces. 

Everything was in breath-taking full color and absolutely sparking clear and crisp.  The twelve figures stood in two rows of six individuals.  One row of six stood in mute silence facing the other row of six.  I stood in the middle between both of the rows.  I looked forward at them.  The row to my right held six individuals and the row to my left held six individuals.

I was able to walk around them and look at them. 

One was a Marine.  He had my face, but stood taller than I did, and was stronger than I was.  He had the wrinkles and scars of many a battle and of nights of restless vigilance.  He reminded me a little bit of the gunnery sergeant (played by Clint Eastwood) from the movie “Heartbreak Ridge”.

Gunny Highway.

.

Across from him was a large Mantid.  It was easily seven feet tall, and reminded me of the alien from the movie series Aliens.  It was not (at all) representative of the Mantids that I worked with as a drone commander.  This one was much larger and tended to be a bit more terrifying.  It also had a larger caprice than what I was familiar with. It had a triangular head with two large eyes.

The Alien film franchise (also known as Aliens) is a science fiction horror film series consisting of four installments, focusing on Lieutenant Ellen Ripley (played by Sigourney Weaver) and her battles with an extraterrestrial life form, commonly referred to as the "Alien". Produced by 20th Century Fox, the series started with the 1979 film Alien, which led to three movie sequels, as well as numerous books, comics and video game spin-offs.

There was a naval officer in dress whites.  He had my face, was clean shaven, and held the rank of Commander.  He had an impressive array of ribbons, and had signs of greying at the temples.  He seemed to be calm and quiet with an easy smile and friendly demeanor. 

This version of “me” was different than the Marine version of “me”.  They indicated different lives that they lead.  And how they both turned out after living those lives.

The Dress White uniform consists of a stand-collar white tunic, white trousers, and white dress shoes. Rank for officers is displayed on shoulder boards for males and on the sleeve cuffs for females, while CPO rank insignia is worn on the collar for both sexes. Service dress white includes ribbons, whereas full dress white includes ribbons and medals. This uniform is informally called "Chokers", due to the stand-collar.

"Greying at the temples" means; had white hair around the front near the ears.
Well, he looked something like this. Only with a different rank.

.

There was a scientist / intellectual version of “me”.  He wore a tattered button-down sweater with elbow patches, and pockets.  He had bifocal wire-rim glasses on, and was balding.  He had a white beard and stood there petting a large beautiful Maine-coon cat.  Strangely, he wore a pair of slippers and was smoking a pipe.

I wonder if these characters were all composed of images that I have collected in my subconscious (such as Albert Einstein) and then juxtaposed into my image stream.

Frayed. Comfortably worn and a little frayed; as what one would expect from a favorite item of clothing that has been worn extensively.
Scientist.

.

There was an archaeologist version of myself.  He was quite stereotypical; attired in a pith helmet, dirty khaki shirt and riding britches with a pair or brown long (horse riding) boots.  He was thin, and looked a little gaunt.  He was well tanned, and had a week’s stubble of hair on his chin.

An archaeologist wearing a pith helmet on a “dig”.

.

There was a Type-II gray drone.  It was slightly transparent.  And it looked like it was composed of <redacted>. Which were somewhat similar to the lines of futuristic code shown on the movie “The Matrix”.  It was taller than I remembered it to be.  The color was also a <redacted> complexion that I was accustomed to.  (Odd.  I do not know why this was so.)

This was the strangest figurine in the line-up.

There was a beautiful Asian girl.  She was deeply tanned, and looked like Polynesian mix of part Polynesian and part Japanese.  She was, perhaps, Indonesian or Malaysian in racial makeup.  She was short with an hourglass shape, shapely legs and dark liquid eyes set deep with a cute nose and deep black hair.  She wore a simple sarong with bare feet, and holding a basket of fruit.  The fruit was of a tropical bent, being mostly durian, dragon fruit, pineapples, bananas, guava, and coconuts.  She had a red passion flower in her hair. 

(So stereotypical, but also so lovely….)

Yeah. She sort of looked a little like this lass.

.

I won’t go into the full range of figures that stood there before me.  Each one represented a different series of memories and had a special role in my life. 

While most of what we were involved in was related to closure and suppression of the memories, other programs served different functions and purposes.  (They were but the representations of various programs.  As such they maintained a purposeful stereotypical significance that somehow “plugged into” or connected to my sub-consciousness.)

You all will see the various roles that they held in part 2. Each special subroutine had a role and it was used to “condition” me properly so that I can exist MAJestic in a healthy way, and not be scared for life due to an abrupt and improperly conducted ELF shut-down sequence.

In truth, I endured the entire software routines.  But, for purposes of simplification, as well as to avoid reliving the entire strenuous event, I have decided to limit recalling this event.  Instead I am just going to relate only two of the twelve programs. 

The first [1] is the program concerning the Asian female.  I call this subroutine promise, the “promise of a new life after retirement”. 

The second [2] is the complete closure ceremony.  I call this the “retirement of the spirit of a Marine”.

I will ignore the other ten programs, as they would probably devote an entire book in their own right to relate. Maybe I’ll write another post on them later on. But for now, it’s way too much.

This is the end of part one

To see the rest of this section you need to go off to the MAJestic index here…

MAJestic

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You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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Some stories from prison. How other people ended up being locked up. The landscaper.

Prison is full of stories. Some are lies. Some are half-truths and some are truths that add insight to the human condition.

When you are in prison, you adjust. You adapt. You make friends and alliances. You survive.

You get to know other people; other inmates. And you hear their stories. And you learn from them.

Here is one such story…

The Landscape Business Owner

He wasn’t a rich man, but he was making a good living. He had about fifteen steady customers and a small crew that helped him mow lawns and trim hedges. He had a truck (new) that pulled a trailer that held the tools of his trade, and emblazoned on the side of the truck was his landscape businesses name and his logo.

He lived in a modest middle class house in a nice neighborhood. He was making mortgage payments, but they would be paid off in five years and then the home would be his completely.

His life was easy. It was relaxed and very low stress. He would get up in the morning, eat a nice breakfast and coffee at the local diner, and pick up his crew at 9 am, so that they could start work on the lawns while his clients were working at their regular 9-5 jobs in town.

He described the work as easy.

The crew would do the hard boring tasks and he would supervise and do the tasks that he wanted to do. Like, perhaps, planting flowers, or arranging bushes, or trimming moss. He told me that he would just enjoy the day. Do the job. (Take a) Break for lunch. Take a nap in the truck, and then resume work.

Then he would come home on time and his wife would make the dinner while the kids would be off doing kid stuff.

Then one day…

As he was leaving the house in the morning, getting ready for his normal routine… (two eggs, over medium, whole wheat toast, chicken fried steak with gravy and grits with coffee)…

A hearty breakfast for a working man.
A hearty breakfast for a working man.

…two police cars pulled up.

One blocked the truck in. The other pulled behind the truck.

“Friendly officer” Dan came out and asked him if he was Mr XXXXXXX. Well, of course he was. He knew the officers himself. Everyone knew everyone else.

His neighborhood was small enough that it would fit within a Norman Rockwell painting.

They told him to turn around, put his hands behind his back, and they loaded him into the squad car to take to the office.

What is going on?

Once he was handcuffed, they informed him that he was arrested for forgery, creating false documents and accessory to crimes valued at the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

What?

He was 46 years old. Running a laid-back landscape business, that had been in operation for at least 15 years. His greatest crime that he could recall was being late paying his water bill.

What was going on?

Well, as it turned out the anti-terror legislation passed in the wake of 9-11, eliminated the statute of limitations for anything that could be used by terrorists. So an entire swath of crimes, which normally had a seven year statue of limitations now were open-ended and had no “sunset date”.

  • Forgery
  • Identity Theft
  • Interstate criminal activity
  • Use of the internet to conduct crimes
  • Use of a road to conduct crimes
  • Use of computers to commit crimes…

Any law can be twisted to serve a purpose…

Further, certain states had agreed to match the requirements of the Federal statutes and his (our) state was one of them.

Which meant that he was being dragged into the “system” by federal anti-terror legislation for crimes committed a long time ago, and was being charged on both the federal and the state level. Two sets of charges for one singular crime.

How is this even possible?

What happened?

Well, it seemed that over twenty five years ago, when he was in college, he set up a small operation making fake driver’s licenses. In America, they have minimum drinking ages, and you cannot buy alcohol or cigarettes or even enter a restaurant, bar or club unless you were over that minimum age requirement.

In America you need to show identification showing that you are of legal age to drink beverages that contain alcohol.
In America you need to show identification showing that you are of legal age to drink beverages that contain alcohol.

What he would do is make a fake ID.

With a fake ID the kids could get around that legal requirement. They could enter bars, clubs and restaurants that served alcohol. They could also go into liquor stores and buy beer, wine, and hard alcohol.

The client would give him a name, and he would make an ID for them that resembled a state driver’s license in every detail. He had worked out a system where he got original blanks for the ID’s, and used the same machines that the state used. Thus producing a genuine appearing, but fake ID.

He did this for his friends.

And then, as his reputation expanded, for others in other schools as well.

At the time, a fake driver's license was not difficult to make, and had no serious criminal penalties attached with it.
At the time, a fake driver’s license was not difficult to make, and had no serious criminal penalties attached with it.

He did this for a few years, and then about two years after he graduated, he shut the business down. He no longer associated with the younger set of “kids” and moved on to bigger and better things.

Yet…

Yet…

His cards were still out there. Still being used. Not just thrown into a cluttered drawer of old socks and brick-a-brack. Not just forgotten. Not just discarded when the clients got older.

Some were no longer being used to buy alcohol…

The events…

Well it turned out, that of the thousands of cards that he sold to students, one was sold to a girl…

…who was now a grown woman.

And who used that fake identification to procure an entire slew of bank credit cards. And she used those card to purchase all kinds of things.

  • Expensive clothes.
  • Television screens.
  • Expensive watches.
  • Fine clothing.
  • and automobiles…

When she was caught, she had racked up hundreds of thousands of dollars in fraudulent purchases.

And while under investigation, the FBI and the DHS were able to ascertain her system and method. They were able to track down everything back to a lone fake ID that was made some 25 years previously.

She of course, was looking at state and federal charges for wire fraud, and an entire slew of interstate commerce violations.

But…

But…

She used a fake identification. And fake identification, the generation and creation of it, is now a federal issue that involves terrorism and the Department of Homeland Security.

Thus the arrest, and imprisonment.

Long story short

He was facing both State and Federal charges. He was threatened with everything from Gitmo, to twenty five years in a Federal prison, to life at hard labor in a State Prison.

He accepted a plea bargain.

He got two years of prison in a State Prison (Brickeys – North Arkansas Regional Unit) at hard labor. And that is where I met him.

A look at the issue of “Rights”

One of the first things that you realize when you hit prison is that the idea of what a Right is, and what it actually is do not match. We are told that we have “Rights” and a “Rule of Law”. But that is not true.

The laws in America, at both the States and Federal levels are capricious.

They are whatever those with the guns say they are.

They are in constant change; in flux, and anyone can get snared in them.

Anyone.

Including you.

If the American Federal and State constitution were being followed, this entire event sequence would be avoided.

  • Following the Statute of limitations.
  • The criminal activity charge must fit the actual actions.
  • Local crimes do not apply to international issues.
  • A trial for jury should never be usurped by a plea bargain.
  • No double jeopardy.

But none of that matters now.

I am sure that he is out and back to living life.

Presently

Last I heard, his wife took over the business and ran it while he was absent. When he got out, I’m sure that after he was able to readjust, he went back to work. And his life went on and continued.

He fared better than others that I have met. Their stories are also quite interesting and illustrative. I’ll discuss some of them in further posts.

Do you want some more?

I have more stories about my retirement in my MAJestic Index here…

MAJestic

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

To go to the MAIN Index;

Master Index

.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
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More Discussions regarding Soul and Extraterrestrials.

Here is a continuation of a dialog with an influencer. Provided for your interest and consideration.

The discussion continues…

Conversely, they COULD have killed you instead of just driving you into defacto exile. From the government’s perspective, I’d hate to be the bureaucrat on-the-hook if you were to ran amok with your implants and all. It certainly is a shitty life sentence you ended up with but I definitely feel your pain! If your story is true (I think it is), I’d like offer my support in gratitude of your service to country. Besides, maybe your benefactors would look well upon my friendship towards you 😉

About my retirement. I haven’t written about this, at least nothing that I published. But they DID try to do something other than exile. It’s a story that needs to be said, but I have a very difficult time grappling with it. So, I just think that now is not the time to mention it. It would only “muddy the waters”.

Looking back, I should be happy that things worked out as they did. Evidence shows that things could have been much worse for me.

During the retirement procedure, there were (other) efforts to terminate my role more effectively. However, the EBP enabled me to side-step those efforts. (Maybe that’s exactly the kind of thing that the folk in Washington were afraid of… Nah. The retirement team had absolutely no idea of what I was involved in.)

As far as I understand it, I was going to be retired no matter what.

This was a fate that I signed up for, even though, I had no idea about it. There wasn’t much that I could do about it, except… I could (through my MAJestic training, sidestep the non-MAJestic operations and) select how the retirement sequence would manifest. 

Believe me, I took the easiest and safest route.

And so here I am.

I have a big write-up on the actual retirement procedure in Pine Bluff, AR. How the respective agents were flown in, and the reactivation of the ELF probes while I was tied down in a safe location. It’s a pretty comprehensive narrative, but now is not the time to publish it. It’s all written from my point of view and it is really confusing.

It is very confusing. Sort of like the movie “Naked Lunch”. It’s a very difficult read to follow, as my experiences lay outside my physical experiences as viewed by everyone else.

When we watch movies, we watch it from a third person perspective. But no one could possibly view my experiences with any kind of rational understanding as it was all in a first person perspective. So it is very, very confusing.

Look at this scene below. Can you understand what is going on in it?

Naked Lunch screen shot.
Movie still from the movie “Naked Lunch”. It portrays the vision of a world from the eyes of a man addicted to bug poison. It is a difficult movie to understand if you are a third person observer of a first person themed movie.

Anyways, thanks for your heart-felt concern.

I had a very strange and ostensibly missing-time (about 3 hours) dream last Tuesday night, that’s never happened before! 

That dream of yours is very interesting to me. It really is.

First of all dreams are many things. Fundamentally, it is just the brain relaxing and the brain memories firing and imagination going off in tangents. That’s just plain old innocuous dreaming. But, if you are in certain states of mind, it can be other things; more critical and active things. For instance, when a loved one passes on, they can come and visit you.

That’s a great example of this.

Painting of a dream.
A most wonderful painting titled the “dream of St. Joseph”. Angels and information can be imparted in our dreams.

An experience we had while we slept.

When I was in my Senior year at Syracuse, I was crashed out with my friends Jay and Peter in their dorm room. One of our friends, Marty, had died suddenly three days earlier. He was playing football. He had a brain aneurysm and died. Now, I knew him, but I wasn’t as close to him as Peter and Jay was. I knew him by his nick-name “Rhino”. What he would do is head-butt everyone he met. So that’s how he made friends.

Anyways, three days after he died, at around 4am, Peter, Jay and myself all woke up simultaneously. It seems that Marty had visited all of us in our sleep. He told us not to worry that he was fine and happy, and he was saying good-bye to us for now. The thing is that we all all immediately woke up simultaneously at the same time and had similar (if not the same) dreams.

Dreaming and communication.
We can have communications while we are at rest and our mind relaxes. This happens quite often and everyone has experienced it.

What you can take out of this is that consciousness (of one person) can access the minds, thoughts and memories of others through dreams.

This means of providing information to the brain, directly by consciousness exists. It doesn’t need to be a close friend or loved one that died. It can be through artifice, like my EBP, or through ELF radiation via the ELF probe kits. It can also be through other consciousnesses and other entities that have the necessary permissions to do so.

The “Guardian Angel”.

Everyone, that is every human, has a “guardian angel”. This is an entity that goes by many names; Spiritualists, Angels, Mantids, and the like. There are paintings of these creatures as tall and big beautiful human-shaped creatures with wings.

The artists took a great deal of artistic license in painting the creatures. They painted them as large humans, often male, with wings, handsome and often possessed a halo or other heavenly “signature” around the head.

In all actuality, they are a species that protects our human species. They are invertebrates. They are multi-dimensional. They work for a higher purpose.

Guardian angel.
Every person has a guardian angel. This is a consciousness that exists as a multi-dimensional being and that assists and guides our consciousness as it travels forth within our individual realities. This is a painting of a guardian angel from 1900.

They and they alone have the necessary permissions to access your consciousness on anything more than a trivial communication level. Loved ones can communicate, but the transmission of more complex forms of data is restricted to those with permissions. When the more intense data-streams are provided, you will be able to recognize it through one or more of the following experiences..

  • Dead-sleep. No dreams at all. A big blank of zero memories.
  • Intensively different and vivid dreams, with sounds, colors, and smells.
  • Dreams about attending schools or educational institutions, etc.

The mechanism for “special dreams”.

This is the mechanism how these “special” dream conditions manifest. It works like this…

Now, when a person is exposed to a new kind of knowledge or experience, the mind and the consciousness comes to grips and tries to understand that information. This will result in different thoughts, and dreams.

Now, these thoughts and dreams can be thought of as a kind of “prayer”. You aren’t trying to ask or pray for anything. But, what is happening is that you have set up a “carrier wave” that your “guardian angel” can notice. They, in turn, adjusts your Earth experience to fit.

Carrier wave

This tells me that your path in and out of the various realities; your “time” had been altered and it had a course correction and a new vector. It will direct you to something good, for you on your own personal level.

What it is, I don’t know. What I can tell you is that is a very good sign.

The Progenitors.

Tell me more about the progenitors if you don’t mind?

OK, now about the Progenitors. I know of them, but what I know is rather sparse.

They have “seeded” this section of the galaxy many, many years ago. Maybe one billion years ago.

This means that they have “planted” rudimentary lifeforms adapted to the environment where planted. This meant that they took some kind of basic “primordial biological stew” (a biological template) and mixed it with various promising local native life. Thus, creating a kind of pre-species life that would eventually become some kind of intelligent native species.

When they were involved in this procedure and operation, they had physical bodies, and traveled in vehicles.

I do not know what they looked like. I have no idea about their appearance, size, or biology in any way. For all I know, they could be telepathic cats. I just do not know.

The cat from outer space.
THE CAT FROM OUTER SPACE, 1978, © Buena Vista

They went all over the galaxy and traveled far and wide. They planted “kits” of biological entities. These kits were merged with local life and created very early life-forms.

Sometimes the life-forms survived and grew. Other times they died off. The progenitors were aware of this, and while they hoped that the life forms would grown, they recognized that they might not take.

This species traveled far and wide in our galaxy, as well as in other galaxies! That I do know.

They were active in seeding the universe, at least in our corner of it. The impression that I have is that they were involved in this activity long AFTER the (initial primary) sentience disruption period, but long before any kind of local galactic government formation.

Local galaxy group.
Here is a three dimensional rendering of our enormous galaxy and the locations of the other nearby galaxies. It is my understanding that the Progenitors were space faring creatures that seeded our galaxy and neighboring galaxies.

They (might have) periodically came back to check and revise their creations. But I don’t know if this ever happened with our Earth.

What I do know is that they transitioned into non-physical multi-dimensional entities at the same time that the Mantids were active and alive on our planet. I believe that the two species were aware of each other, but I do not know if they ever collaborated together, but I do know that the Progenitors sort of “passed on the torch” to the Mantids in regards to human care-taking.

Whatever happened between the Progenitors and the Mantids, the Mantids now have a major role in sentience evolution of humans on the Earth.

Local environment showing local galaxies.
This is a more detailed picture of the local group showing more detail and the various structures that lie around us.

There are ruins and some progenitor artifacts laying around in our solar system, but I do not know where they are or what they would look like.

Write a book?

You should write a book, maybe: “Gray Agenda”. You’ve already got the manuscript basically done. The description might be: “A first person account of the intentions the extraterrestrial races have planned for the people of Earth” (or something along those lines).

Writing an allegory about classified events IS legal as long as no one is named or harmed in the process (ie “Sebastian”). Besides, you never signed an NDA plus I believe that you are currently the highest declassification authority within in your compartment, anyway. I’d buy it! 

About the Slides.

On the other topic, are there no “black-hat” (bad guys) out there? What about evil, the devil and such things, you must of run into such things in your “slides” to alternate realities?

You never actually discussed how the “slide” occurs and when things look like while in transit (more gray wall)? Would love to hear about that too!

Oh, you have opened up a huge keg of worms. I will respond to this, but where all my other correspondence was extraterrestrial studies 101, this enters in to the realm of “OMG, where do I begin?”. It’s really out there.

If you think that what I have already disclosed is far-out, you have no idea, how far “down the rabbit hole this thing goes”.

I’ll respond better once I gather my thoughts and I will do my best to keep it simple.


Firstly, [A] please take note (and take heart) that I am and have always been, protected by the Mantids. (You can kindly refer to them by the moniker of “Angelics”, if you wish. I like to think of them as Guardian Angels.)

I look at it sort of like this;

You have a five year old that wants to walk all over the place, but has no idea about roads, trucks, ferocious dogs, and bee stings. You want to protect the five year old, but you don’t want to overly coddle it. The child has to learn, don’t ya know.

It’s sort of like that.

There were so many times that I could have ended up in automobile accidents, getting a serious illness, lost a loved one, or had my very being disassembled and parted-out to other entities. Listen, it’s a dangerous world out there, and it is way, way beyond our ability to deal with alone.

Angels protect us.
We are always watched by our guardian angels. They assist us in steering our realities in such as way as to assist our spiritual growth of consciousness. We are never alone. Never. If you don’t believe me, take a large dosage of MDA. See for yourself. MDA in large doses can temporarily suppress elements that block our view of the “man behind the curtain”.

As much as I would love to chat about this, you [B] also asked about the slides.

Now, that is an encyclopedia in itself. I’ll tell you what. Now, today, I don’t think nothing about it, but it’s actually a complicated process.

Implants, probes, EBP & ELF operation.

The ELF probes monitor the actions and activities for the MAJestic organization present in the reality that I inhabit at that time.

The EBP device is itself, timeless.

The EBP device is not a “stand alone” mechanism. Instead it is a “cog” or an “I/O” device that interfaces with other mechanisms.

These other mechanisms are quire complex, and I know exactly zero about them. However, what I do know is that the next most important element that the EBP interface with is a biological artifice.

Fundamentally, the only way that the EBP can work is when it operates though use of an artifice. This artifice is biological in nature. It it is not enjoined with that artifice, then it cannot work. It is just “dead”.

Now, you might think of the EPB as a computer or a complex electronic mechanism, but that is incorrect. It is a biological computer with a dedicated function. It connects to another biological device; the artifice. It, in turn, is controlled by a extraterrestrial “pilot”.

Stranger and Stranger

If you are a species that can access the MWI at will; the ability to traverse world-lines, then you can secure your operations in places that are safe and secure from others.

As such, this artifice is located on [A.1] another planet, that resides [A.2] within another reality. Think of it as another “world-line”. A species that can move in and out of world-lines has the ability to place critical infrastructure on “safe” and “protected” world-lines.

In other words, it’s really hard for some highly motivated contemporaneous oligarch, like George Soros (for instance), to tinker with operations HQ located on the planet Mars. That is most especially true when the planet Mars, and the HQ is located on a world-line where the Earth did not exist.

So, I m a “Commander” who works in behalf of the arrangements with MAJestic. The operation of the process is controlled via artifice with a controller who I refer to as the “pilot”. The pilot is of the type-I grey species, but the artifice links to the Mantid species “thought highway”.

Of course, my terms are really weird. Simply because there are no terms for this in the English Language.
EBP operation
Generalized overview of the rules and operation of the EBP. The Type-1 grey operates the artifice as the Pilot. The human with the EBP is the Commander.

It gets complicated.

For the longest time, I was under the impression that the type-I greys did not have the ability to recognize world-line slides and what happens. I thought only the Mantids know the entire process and procedure that I am involved in. I was under the impression that only the type-1 greys operate the technology.

Now I am not so sure.

I will talk about this in much more detail. But I feel that I have overwhelmed you in the process. So let’s stop here, for now.

White Hats.

No, I knew about the bit players like the Mantids and the Grays but never knew how they fit into the puzzle, I take it they are the white-hats?Are you familiar with the Tall Whites and Charles Hall’s story?

I don’t know anything about the Charles Hall story. At least, as I recall. I will check it out on the internet and get back with you on it.

I went through the above links. No, I have absolutely zero experience with this species. I have nothing that even resembles any of this. However the writings are quite interesting. It’s not the kind of stuff that an author or hoaxter would come up with. Even though I have zero experience with this species, I DO KNOW that MAJestic has been working with numerous species.

"He explains that the pencil weapon can be used to stimulate calcium atomic frequencies to cause great pain like being burned, but one was not actually burned. When the iodine setting is used by the stun gun it can cause one to bleed to death. He compared this to the black plague when people would bleed to death due to arteries being weakened and blood would leak out causing death. In an email, Charles clarified how the pencil weapon works: “The pencil weapon could be set to stimulate the atomic frequencies of Sodium, Calcium or Iodine. Stimulating the Sodium atoms caused immense pain because it caused the nerves to discharge. If the weapon is set high enough, it can cause instant death. Stimulating the Calcium atoms caused the reverse (i.e. sleep, calmness, relaxation etc ) because it causes the nerves to reset and relax. Stimulating the Iodine atoms, of course, as described in book three, causes death by internal bleeding because it causes chemical changes that allow the blood to pass through the walls of the arteries in and around the thyroid gland.” "
-Exopolitics

The “Tall Whites” are NOT the Mantid species.

The type-1 greys are an intermediary that carry on work for and along the purposes of the Mantids.

A typical slide.

Take me through a typical “slide”, does conservation of mass and energy hold in the MWI, sounds like not?

Conservation of mass and energy holds true only within a given reality. Reality slides are movement from one reality to another. The consciousness moves, and when it does it does so in the form of waves, as opposed to particle, form.

Each reality is ψ-epistemic. It is a self-contained reality that runs from nothing to nothing, with all kinds of things going on between those two points. There is a near-infinite number of realities that exist. these realities exist in a universe or baseline structure. This universe is ψ-ontic .

You can move from reality to reality in all sorts of ways.

The most common is (of course) “the arrow of time”. We, and those around us think and process thoughts. All of this constructs the next momentary reality that our consciousness inhabits. It is so ingrained in our mind that we just move about ahead naturally with little in the way of thought consideration. We consider it “natural’. That is, because it actually is natural.

The second way, is “dimensional travel”. You can “jump” through one reality into another. This can get complicated. As you need to know where you are, and where you want to go. You need coordinates in a minimum of 11 dimensions (as far as I understand).

My first slide was through a “dimensional door”, and it was exactly as I described it. You disappear into thin air, and reappear elsewhere. If you are walking through the egress tube, you will pass through something that would appear to be a curtain of water, and when you exit it, you will actually feel wet. Then, it will be as nothing happened.

There are “grades” or techniques of this kind of travel.

  • Dimensional portal
  • Manufactured bubble (as in a vehicle)
  • Manufactured bubble (as in a small handheld device)
  • 7th dimensional entry and egress.
  • My EBP artifice supported travel.

I have written about all the other kinds. You have the dimensional portal travel the MAJestic uses with the type-1 greys. You have the manufactured bubble travel such as the John Titor saga, and the mysterious woman in the aluminum foil coat. You have the 7th dimensional entry and egress as shown by the mystery woman in the airport, or the bicycle riding man in Russia. And finally, you have EBP directed travel.

Almost all of my experiences is via EBP. So my slides are going to differ from any of the other methods.

The EBP, firstly gives me the ability to see my reality normally, as well as to “sense” other nearby realities. I can, for instance, sense realities that can be harmful to me, and other realities that will be great for me. This gives me a greater degree of control in the overall immediate direction of my life.

These realities are momentary visions. They pop in and out, and jiggle about. They are controlled by thought, and the surrounding physical environment.

As cool as this sounds, I am handicapped in whether or not I can take advantage of any potential reality directions that are presented to me. That is because my ability to travel about these nearby realities can be locked in or out by the EBP artifice. Yes, the “pilot” can make sure that I am steered in the right direction so that the Mantids Type-1 Greysvget the most efficient benefit of my actions and activities.

Which really sucks. You know, you see an “opportunity” and it is right there if only you do XXX or YYY. You can see it plainly.

Yet as soon as you want to do XXX, the EBP locks you out.

Why it sucks to be me.

They have always wanted me to represent “average”. Not “average” college graduate. Not “average” Naval Aviator. Not “average” type-A personality hard worker…. no. They want me to be entirely “average”, from the most slothful lazy jackass to the most aggressive rich oligarch billionaire.

Average.

Which means, and one thing that I really resent, is that they took Sebastian and myself (above average in intelligence, skill sets, and motivations) and put us in a situation where we represented the average person. Which is far lower in intelligence. Far lower in skill set. Far lower in motivations.

My life.
This is pretty much how it manifested to me personally. You push and you strive to be the top 1% of the 1% of the 1% (as repeatedly told to us at NAS NASC Pensacola FL). But the role in MAJestic was such that I had to represent the “average” American. That meant that the reality that surrounded me would be locked down and suppressed to be the reality that most Americans would experience. It sucked.

No matter what I would want to do, and no matter that I could clearly see how the realities would open up, I would be locked out of the opportunities in order to maintain my role within MAJestic.

Anyways…

How it worked.

The MAJestic pilot would control the artifice in such a way that the course that I am to follow and the world that I am to experience is mapped out. In a non-MAJestic world, I might have a path that would go A-B-C-D-E-F. But, in MAJestic, my role would be for me to experience reality Z.

So the pilot would map out a path that would be A-B-C1-E2-G5-T8-X-Y-Z.

The adjacent realities that I would experience could sometimes deviate quite substantially from my previous reality. The deviations are immediate and you don’t really know what is going on except what you “feel” and the over all “sensing” of the situation. This is true, even though there are some visual clues that the EBP provides.

Let’s relate an experience that I had years ago, and use it to illustrate how the system worked.

It was back in the early 1990’s, I don’t remember when, but let’s imagine that it was around 1991 or 1992. I was in a roadside restaurant with my wife. It was a local diner, not a chain diner like the Waffle House or anything like that. Just a normal glass walled stainless steel box with a counter and booths along the windows.

Roadside diner.
The diner looked a little something like this. Photo obtained from the internet, and I haven’t a clue as to who the old man is, so don’t ask. Photo is for illustrative purposes. This event happened long before cell phones, and while I did have a 35mm camera, it was not with me that day, and I did not take pictures to record the events.

A normal person would go in, order from the menu, eat, pay and leave. The process would be pretty predictable and would be along the lines of A-B-C-D-E-F. After a 45 minute span of time, the man would be at reality F.

For me, however, it would be different.

My objective was to occupy reality Z after 45 minutes in the restaurant. To do this, the pilot would send me; the “commander”, along a different reality track. I would “slide” along a different route to my destination. I would go A-B-C1-E2-G5-T8-X-Y-Z.

I entered the diner with my wife normally. Now, you know, I knew that I was dealing with slides immediately. I could feel the differences. I could sense the changes. There would be different smells for starters.

After we looked at the menu, I ordered a hamburger platter with fries and a cup of coffee. My wife ordered some eggs and toast. The restaurant smelled like a normal restaurant, but then I started to notice that it smelled strongly of curry, as well as raisins. It was like you were walking around the booths of an international fair full of exotic foods and flavors of the world. It no longer smelled of hamburger and fries.

It smelled of lamb and curry.

The waitress brought out our dishes and I was eating a curry-gyro with rice, and a tall glass of white wine. My wife, who now had a really dark tan, was busily attacking her tuna-fish salad. As we ate, I started to notice that the normal day started to variate in a substantially different direction. The sky was no longer blue, but it was a glaring white and people were rubbing their eyes. The girls were also trending towards long skirts, and the guys were no longer wearing tee-shirts, but rather plain white button-down white short-sleeve shirts.

By the time my meal was finished, it was back to a half-eaten hamburger, but I was drinking coke instead of wine or the coffee that I ordered. My wife was full from the taco-salad that she had, and her skin was back to being light color. She and I were both wearing tee-shirts again. Though, they were “newer” than I recalled before the dive. She also now was a smoker, while before we went into the restaurant, she did not smoke.

Our car was back to being the same as it was, except that the car was a little wider than it was before, and on the drive home, there were some roads that were missing. I went home and discovered that I had an extra cat in the house, as well as some bills that apparently needed to be paid (yet again). In this 45 minute interlude, I dove to reality Z, via really odd-ball realities to get where I needed to go.

The need to dive into really strange realities has always been a kind of mystery to me, but the real reason is that we can only travel into adjacent realities using the EBP. To use this method, you need to dive into really strange adjacent realities to resurface into a nearby objective reality that would be prohibitively difficult for me to reach otherwise.

More questions.

Very fascinating, did you know before hand there was a slide planned for that day?

No. I never knew. They just happened, and I rode them whether I liked it or not. They came at all hours of the day and at night.

Generally they were not disruptive in any way that was life threatening, but they were discordant. You could be watching a movie, and find out that they movie changed during a slide. For instance, in this reality Roxanne is a comedy about a man with a really big nose. However, when it first came out, the reality that I was in as different. Instead of Steve Martin being the lead actor, it was John Candy.

What were/are the Mantids trying to do, stabilize the overall reality streams? Maybe reduce the probability of war (say)? Increase human awareness or sentience? Move us more towards “Service to others” soul types?

I really don’t know for sure. No one ever told me anything.

What I can sense is that the slides were [1] important. They [2] assisted the Mantids in gauging the direction and situation of the “human condition”. This enabled them [3] to alter trends and reality via the MWI for a portion of the population. (No, the human population does not share similar realities. Instead they play the percentages. Thus, forcing me to ride the “averages”.)

[4] The type-1 grey had a role(s) as a pilot. He followed the direction from the Mantids, and used their abilities and interfaced with the Type-1 grey technology. This required a biological artifice, but how it all worked, I haven’t a clue.

Now, they (the Mantids) did not care if humans suffered. They did not care if humans prospered. They did not care. What they cared about was the general direction of human sentience. Why they would have been pleased if all humans moved towards to “service to others” sentience, they never expected that to ever happen. What they wanted to do was “push” the conditions of the MWI reality shared by many human consciousnesses towards the consciousness that they are most likely to migrate towards.

The type- greys did not care either. What they wanted was to identify those humans that would migrate to the “Service to self” and “service to another” consciousness so that they would then work onto either farming them as an adjunct to their species – a sub-species (farming or being farmed), or being assimilated into their hive or matrix soul configuration.

Some might have this happen quickly, but my understanding is that it might take many reincarnations. The push to ride the slides was a way to monitor the evolutionary process.

So once you were “in” the slides from A-B-C…n, it just kept coming until they were done? That must have been maddening!

Yes it was. Sometimes I was horrible and I really would get frustrated. But, in some way, I do not know how, the pilot was able to predetermine just how far I could be pushed. It would be rather counter-productive to have me kill myself because I thought I was mad.

Imagine that you really want to eat pizza. All day you are looking forward to having pizza. You sit down and eat pizza in a restaurant, only to find out that in the current world-line pizza consists of pizza bread covered in corn and ketchup. Or when you go to work and find out that the project that you have spent the last four months working on had never existed, or discovering that your pretty decent boss was replaced with a jack-ass. Or, buying a new car only to have it revert to a distressed clunker. Or, getting used to paying in 2 and 3 dollar bills and discovering that in the current world-line they never existed.

Or winning the lottery (not a big multi-million dollar payout, but $1000 is big news), and suddenly finding out that you had never bought the ticket in your new world line. Finding out your sister had four children not five. Discovering that you now had different musical tastes on this new world line, or that your wife was suddenly allergic to popcorn (so she wouldn’t ever go to the movies).

In general, the most important aspects of life remained pretty much constant, though their appearance might change. Loved ones, friends, pets all pretty much didn’t change that much outside of appearance.

Your wife might have long black hair, then she might have short curly hair. Stuff like that.

7th dimensional egress.

BTW, I think that Russian guy on the bike materializing is actually an artifact of how digital video works, I think he was riding from a direction where the camera software had aliased the area as blank (no change between scans) to an area where it was actively recording (the left side), that’s why he seems to suddenly appear from behind the person walking. You see this all the time on YouTube videos, where someone pops into frame because the camera software just noticed them moving (a change between scans). Sometimes though, it captures something on the unexplainable side, those are the weird ones (like a leprechaun, or little person or ghost thing running by, there’s LOTS of them too). The ones where someone just “pops” in are mostly due to the way digital video process images though. 

This information about the guy on the bike is something to think about on numerous levels. I do not have all the answers just some perceptions given my previous experience.

You know, if you rode a bike you could explain to non-bike riders how much fun it is, and what it is like to have the air on your face. You could talk about putting air in the tires and so forth. Maybe you would not know anything about motorcycles, but you could guess with some degree of accuracy. I would think that its sort of like that.

The only point I was making about the “pop-in” videos is that most are easily explained as an artifact of how digital cameras work, that’s all. 

This could very well be true. I need to think about it. The problem that I have about this is that the images show that this “artifact” is selective in application. Why so, if the point of view of the camera as an observer is just different hued pixels?

More on slides.

Gyros are good but I would not like curry pizza, that I know for sure! 😉

Actually, I never had any idea of when a slide would materialize. It was always without notice and could come at the most inconvenient times.

I well remember once I was giving an important presentation. The managers above me were all in the room, and I turned to the white board to draw an arrow on a sketch that I had been working on only to find the board was blank. I then turned around and the room was empty. I was in a reality where I wasn’t giving the presentation.

Yes, it was maddening. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would certainly believe that I was loony-tunes.

The why.

As far as to the why… well, no one ever told me anything. I have only come up with my own understandings. I do know that the type-1 greys would be tickled pink if they could harvest a large portion of the human population over to their sentience. They would then partition them out as either assimilated co-drones, or as farmed sentience’s. Ohhhh. That’s a horrible fate. They would be farmed for their experiences, and then the quantum associations would be excised and extracted, and they would then live another experience, but without ever obtaining the quantum arrangement benefits. Yuck. They view this transitional period much longer than we humans would recognize…say 500 years or so.

The Mantids are moving a pace and expect to assist in a sizable portion of humans towards a different kind of sentience. This sizable number would be smaller than any number harvested by the Greys.

Both species recognize that the human species are a transitional or temporary species. We will evolve into something else. The path that we will take will be one such that there would be but three ultimate destinations.

The lowest of the “service for self”, and many of the “service for another” would eventually evolve towards incarnations as “farmed sentience’s”. This would be life in Hell. I am not at all kidding.

The type-1 greys.

The Grays sound distinctively demonic, based upon your experience. I have heard of other stories where people have evoked the name of Jesus while being abducted and they have frozen on terror, now why should an alien from a difference star system have any care about the name of Christ if they are not demonic in their orientation? 

I have also read about Russian Orthodox priests who state that there is no element of the Gray Aliens that doesn’t sound satanic in their actions and properties.

I do not know about involing the name of Jesus.

But, the vast bulk of humanity, would pretty much evolve towards a “service for self” sentience as it would fit within a Type-1 grey hive or matrix soul configuration. In that case, it would be sort of like “Purgatory”. There would no longer be an individual soul that they would advance, but rather they would be part of something else. They would function as a tiny gear in a huge and vast machine (metaphorically speaking).

Those that are “service for others” would advance to a new higher-energy sentience and would transcend the physical reality. Ultimately becoming inter-dimensional beings, and closer to “God”. It would be like living in Heaven. This is what the Mantids are working towards.

The dives.

These dives that I was involved in, differed from a regular slide. I like to think that a slide would be a minor alteration of my reality, as they often were. But a dive was a series of slides that went all over the place (with different realities), eventually wrapping up at a different point. I think that the dives were necessary because, otherwise I would choose or select a reality that might be personally harmful to me personally or detrimental to my MAJestic objectives.

For instance, I might get fired, when it was necessary for me to continue working at a company. Or I might get tangled up with some chick, when it would result in me getting hurt or ill. Or, I might end up in the wrong place where I would die in a car accident. To move me around and avoid these circumstance, I had to be placed on dive detours. Some of which were really crazy. I related the deep dive that sent me into a really alternative reality, but there were others. Many others. I lived this life for three decades. Ugh.

The Greys as Borgs

That taken with your logical rationalizing about the Hell experience the selfish human souls being “farmed” into by them and end up makes me arrive to the same conclusion. Their Gray-Borg farm is a loser for humanity, sounds like to me, how about you?

So, I don’t want to be insulting but from the sound of your past experiences, I think you were being used (big time). They signed you up for something that in 20/20 hindsight, you would have probably declined.

The Grays do strike me as serving evil, there are many traits they seem to exhibit that confirm this: Their collective matrix-soul over the responsibility imparted to the individual, their disregard for the holiness of the physical body, their manipulation of humans to feed their psychic hunger, their consciousness splitting technology, it just goes on and on. Then there are the observations of other people who have studied this phenomenon such as Dr. John Mack and other ufologists. The conclusion is pretty obvious, they feed on us and the negative psychic energy they produce through us for their own appetite.

See:
http://orthodoxinfo.com/praxis/alien_abduct.aspx

 
The effects of these abduction experiences on the personal transformation of abductees are very clearly enumerated by Dr. Mack (p. 48-49) and provide us with clear insight into the psychic and spiritual dimensions of the abduction experience. Once the initial terror of the experience subsides, and with the sense of familiarity or comfort that repeated abductions foster, abductees report profound changes in their philosophical outlook and understanding of themselves, others, and the world around them.

Dr. Mack identifies eight stages in this process of change:

1) The individual begins to accept the aliens and experiences what he calls an "ego death."

2) Abductees come to regard their abductors as "intermediaries...between...human beings and the primal source of creation or God."

3) They begin to think of their experiences as trans-temporal and trans-spatial, as "returning to their cosmic source or ‘Home.’"

4) The individual begins to feel that he is himself an alien, when he returns "back" to Earth.

5) Abductees come to understand existence in terms of "cycles of birth and death over long stretches of time."

6) The individual forms a feeling of "identification of consciousness with virtually endless kinds of beings and entities."

7) Abductees develop "a double identity," associating their souls with an alien identity and their personalities with a limited human self.

8) They report functioning beyond what they often call a "veil" and describe "being in multiple times and places at the same moment," among other things.

and…
http://www.holy-transfiguration.org/library_en/sc_ufo5.html

Well if you don’t want to comment, that’s alright, I understand (to a small degree) how hard the past 30 years must have been for you.

I do agree with you, but for some reason I am having difficulty in seeing evil. I am going to check out those links.

Opinions on the Greys.

From my fresh-eyed look at your experience and information listed plus what I have aggregated myself, I see the Grays as human soul hunters. They have been with us all through our history in one form or another and always from a negative understanding (evil).

Have they given us a cure for disease, a cure for cancer, a cure for hunger, mutual understanding and brotherhood among mankind, better water purification, free electricity in the form of nuclear fusion or some other means? NOPE! 

They have provided vehicle technology for our study and reverse engineering efforts. They have provided us dimensional door technology. They have been working with MAJestic on human DNA manipulation, and mapping. They have helped and assisted on non-lethal weapons systems.

However, they have most vigorously quarantined us from lunar exploration back in the 1970’s.

Slides to maximize the “hunting” expeditions.

Your slides seem to be their attempt to manipulated the time-lines in order to maximize the success of their hunting operations. They feed off of our suffering, selfishness and bad psychic energy which they use their technology to enable, that strikes me as pretty evil (no?). 

It is certainly very selfish. It is certainly “service to self” behavior. Whether or not it is evil from their point of view, I don’t think so. They seem to think that they are helping us as part of a greater plan. And, as part of that, some people are going to be hurt for the greater good of all.

Evil is as evil does.

There isn’t a single incidence ever recorded in our esoteric history of one of them helping us, every culture records them as bad. Even in modern times such as in the “Journey to Serpo” story, they only help us in order to help themselves screw us better. 

Are there any times when they helped you for purely unselfish reasons? I don’t know man, they sure seem demonic to me!

This is an angle and an idea that I have not thought of. I am still digesting the links that you gave me. I cannot say that I disagree with them, it’s just that the viewpoints are different from what I have accepted. I am still digesting them, and I do see some real truth there. There is nothing that I disagree with.

It’s that I am coming to grips with the idea of “pure evil”, when in my mind it is all neutral.

A “service to self” sentience is that way because it is the way it is. To me, a “service to self” sentience is inherently evil from a person who’s sentience is “service to others”. By looking at it this way, you can easily see who is who in the various roles.

I see a snake as a “service to self” species. They go about their life taking what they need and doing snake activities. They are all self-absorbed in what they want and cannot conceive helping others in any shape or form.

But, yes. You are absolutely correct. They do feed off our suffering. The thoughts generated during conflict create associations with the quanta and that means the construction of specific types of garbons. The more suffering, the greater the yield. Eventually they will harvest the “ripest fruit”. Now, I do know a little about this.

They are selective. They just do not want just any “fruit” or fresh garbon, to harvest. They want specially constructed ones, and they really want the ownership of the individual that creates such thoughts. Then they could farm and harvest at will. Over time, that person would migrate towards more, and more severe “service to self” behaviors. At that point in time, through reincarnation, they can then migrate and have the soul reconfigured from a (non-approved transitional) configuration into matrix or hive configuration from which they can assimilate into their Borg-like collective.

So, here is where I am trying to understand them. Remember, I have no answers. Just experience. To me, they seem to be “Lawful Neutral”, or “Lawful Evil” from my point of view, with “Neutral” and “Neutral Evil” being strong possibilities FROM MY POINT OF VIEW. From their point of view, I would think that they see themselves as “Neutral Good” or “Lawful Good”. Perceptions on this comes from our consciousness within this reality, as such it forms thoughts. How the thoughts arrange affect our individual soul growth. That is how it is all tied together.

Different types of good and evil.
Different types of good and evil.

This is an interesting thought stream. Need to ponder it some more. I don’t think that they are Demoniac, though it is a real possibility that they are Diabolic.

The idea that they might have intentionally forced me to endure trials and poor-assed experiences so that they could personally harvest my own garbons never actually occurred to me. I need to think about this more.

As you have a very good point.

I do believe that while my slides were for the purpose of sentience evolution for the purposes of the Mantids, it is also very… very possible that the Type-1 greys would also configure the system for their own profit. Which means that my MAJestic operations were to the benefit of both species, and that anything that I endured will be harvested later and I would obtain no benefit from it personally.

It gives me a sickening feeling. I need to think about this more.

The process.

While it is true that you can’t be forced into doing something against your will, you CAN be tricked into doing it. Figure this: The Grays get to keep the psychic energy they turn and their master gets the soul. Sounds like the nature of the deal, no?

Yes, that’s pretty much how it works, more or less.

DNA discovery.

It’s been recently discovered that DNA has a quantum signature in its election cloud and there are ~9billion base pairs per molecule and trillions of trillions of molecules per person, that’s A LOT of qbit energy man!

This is interesting stuff. I would be interested in following up on this stuff about quantum signatures in the electron clouds of DNA.

On animals.

On evil, a snake is an animal and animals have no choice, they can only be what they are so they’re neutral. True snakes do kill baby birds and cute bunnies but they do so as a means of control over the population of their prey, not out of any malice or advantage over another. To them it’s just eating, seems to be the way the Grays regard mankind?

The Grays may have helped engineer our evolution but they must obviously see that we are NOT animals and must be given a choice in life but seem to lack such an ethic. “The Journey to Serpo” (if true) seems to indicate that the Grays have about the same regard for the sanctity of life as we might over an upgraded computer, it’s just hardware to them. The story goes that they took one of the human crew that had died on the journey and used his body to engineer some sort of clone without any regard for his body or seeking permission from the commanding officer, just took it like it was an old piece of hardware. Those warm feeling of love and compassion could be implanted memories or fake emotions to cover their tracks, you yourself said in one of the web pages that they regard us as their property.

The idea of personal rights intrinsic to the human person is an affectation of Christianity but one I happen to agree with. Avoiding the Gray collective gives another dimension to acting in an less selfish manner and for my own good, it really does! 

Oh, and by the way. We are always protected. Always. And while the greys might want to direct us in certain ways, it is up to our own individual consciousness to allow or to deny it from happening.

Remember, that everyone has a “Guardian Angel”, this is a dedicated multi-dimensional Mantid species that works the “levers of reality” “behind the curtain.” They are busy trying to assist our human species towards sentience evolution. They really want us to be “service for others” sentience.

They greys seduce us in ways, means and directions toward “service to self” activities. This can easily lead us in the direction where they want us to go. They have their own intentions and purposes. We should never mistake high physical technology, no matter how apparently “God-like” to be representative of spiritual superiority.

On Quantum biology:http://discovermagazine.com/2014/dec/17-this-quantum-life

https://www.technologyreview.com/s/419590/quantum-entanglement-holds-dna-together-say-physicists/

That’s possible because phonons have a wavelength which is similar in size to a DNA helix and this allows standing waves to form, a phenomenon known as phonon trapping. When this happens, the phonons cannot easily escape. A similar kind of phonon trapping is known to cause problems in silicon structures of the same size.

That would be of little significance if it had no overall effect on the helix. But the model developed by Rieper and co suggests that the effect is profound.

Although each nucleotide in a base pair is oscillating in opposite directions, this occurs as a superposition of states, so that the overall movement of the helix is zero. In a purely classical model, however, this cannot happen, in which case the helix would vibrate and shake itself apart.
So in this sense, these quantum effects are responsible for holding DNA together.

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2014/oct/26/youre-powered-by-quantum-mechanics-biology

Experiments over the past few decades, however, have shown that enzymes make use of a remarkable trick called quantum tunneling to accelerate biochemical reactions. Essentially, the enzyme encourages electrons and protons to vanish from one position in a biomolecule and instantly rematerialise in another, without passing through the gap in between – a kind of quantum teleportation. 

You must have some wild theories on the quantum mechanics of our bodies and conscious mind, don’t you? The one on the DNA electron cloud I have to look for at work, can’t seem to find it right now.

Yes, I do in fact.

MAJestic Related Posts – Training

These are posts and articles that revolve around how I was recruited for MAJestic and my training. Also discussed is the nature of secret programs. I really do not know why the organization was kept so secret. It really wasn’t because of any kind of military concern, and the technologies were way too involved for any kind of information transfer. The only conclusion that I can come to is that we were obligated to maintain secrecy at the behalf of our extraterrestrial benefactors.

How to tell...
How to tell -2
Top Secrets
Sales Pitch
Feducial Training
Implantation
Probe Calibration - 1
Probe Calibration - 2
Leaving the USA

MAJestic Related Posts – Our Universe

These particular posts are concerned about the universe that we are all part of. Being entangled as I was, and involved in the crazy things that I was, I was given some insight. This insight wasn’t anything super special. Rather it offered me perception along with advantage. Here, I try to impart some of that knowledge through discussion.

Enjoy.

Secrets of the universe
Alpha Centauri
Our Galaxy the Milky Way
Sirius solar system
Alpha Centauri
The fuselage embedded within the rocks of Victoria Falls.
The Hammer inside the rock.
The Hollow Moon
The Mystery of the Lapulapu Ridge.
The Mystery of the Baltic UFO.
Mystery of the bronze bell.
Mystery of the oil lamp found inside a block of coal.
Did extraterrestrials set up a colony in Pennsylvania?
The Oxia Palus Facility
Brown Dwarfs
Apollo Space Exploration
CARET
The Nature of the Universe
Type-1 Grey Extraterrestrial
The mysterious flying contraptions.
Interview with an Influencer.

MAJestic Related Posts – World-Line Travel

These posts are related to “reality slides”. Other more common terms are “world-line travel”, or the MWI. What people fail to grasp is that when a person has the ability to slide into a different reality (pass into a different world-line), they are able to “touch” Heaven to some extent. Here are posts that  cover this topic.

Cat Heaven
MWI
Things I miss
How MWI allows world-line travel.
An Observed World-Line switch.
Vehicular world-line travel
Soul is not consciousness.

John Titor Related Posts

Another person, collectively known by the identity of “John Titor” claimed to utilize world-line (MWI egress) travel to collect artifacts from the past. He is an interesting subject to discuss. Here we have multiple posts in this regard.

They are;

Articles & Links

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