I was scheduled for a ten o'clock ERV
session with a training target and Mel as my monitor. We walked to
the viewing building together. Mel carried his coffee in a broken-down
chipped-up mug about a hundred and fifty years old. I was surprised
it held liquid, but he was never without it.
"I think you'll enjoy today's little
journey," he said.
"I could use a little entertainment."
Once I was set up and ready, I started
my countdown; in a few minutes I was entering the ether and on my
way to the target.
"Give me your impressions as soon
as possible. I don't want you wasting any time here."
"I'm someplace like a cave. It
smells musty and the ground is cold. The air isn't moving at all,
and it's completely dark. I can't see anything at all." I moved
forward in the direction the signal line led.
"No, I see a small flicker of light
in front of me."
Riley leaned back in his chair and watched
the video monitor closely. "Good! See what the light is."
I moved toward the light as fast as
I could, but it seemed to move away from me, as if I were chasing
something in a dream. I chased the light for about ten minutes, but
though I was moving in what I thought was a straight line, I just
wasn't gaining any ground. Frustrated, I stopped.
"I've stopped moving toward the
light source, Mel. I just couldn't close on it. I don't know if I'm
not really moving, or if it's moving away from me. I'm just standing
here in the dark now."
"Do you sense anything in the darkness?
Anyone or anything?"
My first thought was Great! Just what
I want to do, grab something in the dark. "All I can say, Mel,
is this target better not be a page out of the Odyssey. If I run into
a-"
Portal
II
"A dream in which the sky tears and another dimension is revealed."
-1991
"...and
the heavens shall be rolled together like a scroll." "And
the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together..."
Is. 34:4, Rev. 6:14
|
"Oh, be quiet
and look around. You can't remote-view something that never happened,
for crying out loud."
Suddenly, the cavern I stood in
was flooded with brilliant light that came from within the surrounding
stone. The light vanished as quickly as it had come. "What
the hell was that?" I shouted.
"Tell me what you saw."
"I saw a light coming from
the walls of the cavern. By the way, I am in a cavern; the light
just confirmed that. But it's dark again and I see nothing."
Again and again the light pulsed
and disappeared, like a strobe. The pulses seemed to pierce
my eyes and ears, even my flesh. The temperature of the cavern
began to rise rapidly, and it was increasingly difficult to
breathe. I told Mel so.
"You need to move on out
of there," he replied. "Take a look around for another
passageway."
Sure enough, behind me was a wide
arched passage into another room. I hadn't seen it because I
was facing away from it chasing the light; in retrospect, it
was as if the light had been trying to lead me away.
The next room was smaller, a rectangle
about twenty feet by ten feet with a ceiling maybe fifteen feet
high. Like the larger chamber, it was lit from within the surrounding
stone, but something was different, as if the pulsing energy
I'd felt in the larger chamber originated here.
|
"I'm in the smaller of the two
rooms, and there seems to be no way out of this one except the entrance
I used. I sense some form of energy here, and I'm having difficulty
focusing my vision on the center of the room. There's something here
that I can't see -- but there's something here, for sure."
"An object, a personality, a definitive
energy source?"
I struggled to see. "There's a
low platform in the center of the room. It's carved out of stone."
| What are its dimensions?"
"About five feet by three
feet, and maybe ten inches high. I can't see ...it's like a
mirage in the center of the room."
"You can't focus on it?"
"Exactly. It's vibrating
too fast. The vibration's like a camouflage of sorts. Something's
there, but I'm not supposed to be seeing it. Something very
unusual and powerful."
"Okay, here's what I want
you to do. Try and move to a time when there is less vibration
and you might be able to see."
I understood; we'd worked on movement
exercises like this before. The idea was that if I initiated
movement in time the signal line would take me where I could
view the target clearly. It had worked on some small training
targets, but I hadn't tried it on anything like this.
|
The
Old Warrior
"A self-portrait from one of my darker dreams." -1989
|
I concentrated on the movement through time and closed my eyes to
the events speeding by. I felt vertigo setting in, which indicated
the speed of my movement. I'd found it best to keep my eyes closed
so as not to vomit. Finally the sensation of movement slowed gradually
and stopped. When I opened my eyes, I beheld the most bizarre scene.
In the center of the room a group of
peasants chipped away at the stone of the floor, forming the pedestal
I'd already seen. Now time scrolled forward, stopped briefly, then
scrolled forward again: the signal line was moving me at will, allowing
me to see the room at various points in time. Finally it stopped completely,
at a point it must have "felt" was critical to the mission.
In amazement, I watched as four men
dressed in ancient-seeming clothes carried a golden box into the room.
One man at each corner of the object, they reverently positioned it
in the center of the stone pedestal and retreated backward from the
room, their heads bowed. Now a huge stone covered the room's entrance,
and slowly all outside light was blocked as the men labored to seal
the passage. Oddly, the golden box kept the room lighted. And the
same strange energy I had felt before, when I could see nothing, filled
the cavern. A sense of threat came over me; I felt I was being warned
not to approach the box.
"What's going on, David?"
"I'm in the presence of the object
and it's very weird, as though I were standing in the presence of
some very powerful deity. The golden box is a symbol of that power,
and it's warning me not to come closer."
"I want you to ignore the warning
and get as close as you can. Touch it if you can, and describe the
sensation to me."
I tried to move toward the object. "It's
a golden box with animals on top of it."
"Real animals?"
"No, small statues, and they have
wings that sweep backward and up. The box itself is very powerful,
or maybe it's something that protects the box that's powerful. Whatever
it is, I can't get any closer. I feel I'm in real danger of being
hurt; I don't like this."
"Remember, you're not physically
there. But tell me what you think would happen if you were physically
there. Describe that sensation to me.
"I think that nothing mortal can
be in this presence. I couldn't even be in the same room with it;
if I were, I'd perish instantly."
"You'd die?"
"No, I don't think 'die' is the
word. I'm thinking more along the lines of being vaporized. But I
seem to feel that that would mean another movement to another place,
only I wouldn't have any control over it. What I'm trying to say is,
nobody's supposed to be here. Even we aren't supposed to be here;
it's an invasion, an intrusion into something very powerful and sacred."
"Ah, that word 'sacred.' Explore
that a bit -- look into the essence of the box. What's there that's
sacred?"
I moved around the box carefully, never
taking my eyes off it and never letting the doorway out of my sight.
"Well, I sense that this symbol is, or has been used as, a tool."
"What sort of tool?"
"I don't know exactly. It had some
very lofty purpose, and it served a great number of people for a long
time. Then it was placed here until it was needed again. Many people
lost their lives to be able to use it; even more died in order to
get it here."
"Why is it in that lonely place,
do you think?"
"It's been hidden until called
out again. Its purpose has been served for now, but not forever. It's
being protected. If you try to unravel its secret you are dumbfounded
and confused -- that's one of its defenses. If you stumble upon it,
you are destroyed or taken away to another place for fear you might
reveal the secret."
"All right; you've been there an
hour and forty minutes now. Let's break it off and come home."
Those were the words I wanted to hear.
I felt very uncomfortable and vulnerable in the cavern. "I'm
on my way."
An hour later I sat in the garden room
with Levy and Mel and discussed my session with them. They began with
the usual questions: "What did you think it was? What is this
sketch of? How did you feel?" And so on. They marveled at my
sketches of the box and the winged creatures that adorned it. They
discussed the powerful unseen presence and the indications of a protective
force. We talked for more than an hour without them revealing anything
concrete about the target, but finally Mel suggested that I be given
my feedback. Like a dog waiting for a bone, I waited for the envelope.
Levy opened it first and looked inside, smiling. Of course, he already
knew what the target was; he just wanted to amuse himself with another
look at the feedback. Shaking his head, he tossed the artist's sketch
from the envelope on the desk in front of me and walked out of the
room.
"Well, aren't you going to look
at it?" Riley asked.
I turned the paper over to see a painting
and description of the Ark of the Covenant. "Oh, my God,"
I said slowly.
"'Oh, my God' are the exact words
I was looking for." Riley laughed. "I was sure you were
gonna say 'em anytime. But the damned thing is just too powerful.
I had the same problem. The only person to ever call it in the air,
so to speak, was Posner. I think it's because he's such a hardhead
he didn't hear the thing warning him not to come any closer, or maybe
he knew what it looked like before he got started -- he's kind of
religious, you know. Have you ever seen a picture before?"
"Nope! I've heard of it -- I mean,
who hasn't? But I never knew what it looked like. Or felt like."
"Some very important religious
articles were carried around the desert in that thing. It went along
with Moses in the wilderness."
"Yeah, I'm sort of familiar with
the story. I had to take religion every semester at BYU."
"Did you know the Ark was part
of a dimensional opening?"
"What do you mean, 'dimensional
opening'?"
"I mean a portal that lets you
move from one dimension to another. I think God dwells in a four-dimensional
world; that's why He's omnipresent and omniscient. When the high priests
went into the inner sanctum of the Temple in the wilderness, they
tied ropes to their ankles so their buddies could pull them back.
These guys were traveling somewhere, and I believe it was to another
dimension, where they would commune with the Creator. The ropes on
their ankles were their way of making sure they had a round-trip ticket.
Cool, huh?"
I stared at him. "You never cease
to amaze me, my friend."
A younger, happier Dave with wife and Dad
prior to his initiation in the Black Lodge of
D:.I:.A:. -1979
Space Aliens: A Remote View
"The
CIA is in the business of manipulating the belief systems of entire
nations. I doubt they're above working in their own back yard if it
suits them."
-Major David Morehouse, DIA Remote Viewer
One day two weeks later,
with Mel monitoring, I undertook what was called an open search. In
an open search, you have no coordinates to guide you; you just invite
the signal line to take you wherever there's something to be learned.
Remote viewers did these every so often just so they could remember
that there are more of them out there -- more planets, more beings,
more civilizations -- than there are of us...I guess. This was my
first such search. Mel had spent the last two days coaching me, but
as I began, all I could remember was that they were always humbling
experiences, full of surprises.
"Tell me where you are," Mel
said.
"In the middle of a prairie. I
can see a series of jagged rocks jutting out of the ground about fifty
yards away. They're maybe a hundred feet high and they look like black
crystals set at a forty-five-degree angle in the ground. It's strikingly
beautiful.
"I'm next to the crystals now,
and I can see my reflection in them. That's odd -- I've never been
able to see my reflection in anything on a search before. Also, the
reflection looks as if it's a couple of meters inside the crystal.
"Do you-"
"Whoa! I see other reflections
in the crystals." I spun around, thinking something must be beside
or behind me, but nothing was. These weren't reflections at all. "Mel!
I see movement inside this black crystal wall. The images look human,
but I can't quite make them out."
"Babe of the Abyss" |
"Move into the
wall and find out who they are."
I pressed my hand into the crystal
and followed it in. "This seems to be an entrance. There's
a stairway leading down; it's about twenty feet wide and it
drops from here maybe two hundred feet below the surface. I'm
going to follow it."
"I want you to describe the
beings to me. Tell me what they're thinking, how they look,
and what they do."
I descended the stairway. All
around me was a labyrinth of causeways and great arching entrances.
Everything I saw was made of the black crystal; everywhere I
looked, there were people on foot.
"They look pretty much like
us, I guess -- in fact, I can't see anything markedly different.
Their clothing is something like what people wore in ancient
Egypt, very loose-fitting and accented with gold embroidery
and metal. It's white, which contrasts tremendously with the
blackness of this place.
|
"I'm approaching a transparent
archway. It covers the walkway I'm on for several hundred feet. I'm
in a big room, and this archway runs the length of it. The damned
thing is huge."
"Is there a central place where
everyone's congregating?"
"I don't know; let me see."
One walkway seemed to have heavier traffic than the others, so I moved
there. "I'm following a large group now. It's a very strange
feeling, walking among these beings. I get the impression they know
I'm here -- in fact, several of them have looked directly at me and
sort of smiled. They aren't interested in me; they just seem to know
I'm here."
"See if any of them will talk to
you."
"Okay, whatever you say."
Feeling stupid, I waved my arms at the beings, spoke to them, even
stood in their way. All they did was look at me; I was in their path,
they walked right through me. "Nobody's talking here, Mel. Sorry!"
| "Fine, see if
you can find some central hub."
"I'm still following this
large group; they seem to be turning off ...yeah, we're entering
a large room, where everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder.
It's like an amphitheater, very narrow at the bottom and wider
at the top. Still made of the black crystal."
"What's going on in this
place?"
"There's someone sitting
in a big elevated chair at the bottom of the room. Everyone
here is paying very close attention to whatever this thing says."
"Why are you calling this
being a 'thing'?"
|
Dave as Magister Templi,
having survived the ordeal and finally
emerged on the Other Side |
"Uh, that's a good question. I
think because he or she or it is larger than the others, and dressed
differently. They're in all white; this thing's in black. It has a
large open hood over its head, with long flowing sleeves that mostly
cover its hands. The hands are not like everyone else's; the texture
is much rougher, and the color is darker. If I had to call it, I'd
say this one is very evil."
"Evil?"
"Okay, not evil. He's some kind
of lawgiver or something. He directs people to do things, and they
do them without question. It's not really clear; he points to people,
motions to them, and they leave, apparently to carry out some task."
"Can you speak to this lawgiver?"
"No! And I don't even want to try.
I can tell he knows I'm here, but he couldn't care less, and I get
the impression he'll be pissed if I try to flaunt the fact that I'm
here."
"Okay. Have you seen enough?"
"Yeah, I think I have for now."
"Break it off and come on back."
I thought Mel might be disappointed
by my timidity. It seemed he wanted me to really assert myself and
let the beings know I was there, but I simply didn't feel comfortable
doing that. I felt a certain fascinate on in visiting another world,
but I also understood the need to treat it respectfully. I was an
invader, not a guest. I saw them look at me; I knew they were aware
of my presence, yet they chose not to speak. So it was clear to me
that I was being tolerated, not accepted. And I vowed I would never
interfere in other worlds. It was their prerogative to acknowledge
me, but I would never force myself on them.
Riley snatched my summary out of my
hand. "Come on, let's get out of here early and grab a beer.
I want to talk to you."
"I hope you're not pissed at me
because of the session."
"Pissed? There you go again, thinking
you didn't do well. Dave, what you get out of an open search is up
to you; the unit doesn't have any expectations. Open searches are
freebies; you get to go where the signal line takes you instead of
telling it where you want to go. They're like an amusement park, only
the tickets are your RV training. Ain't it great?"
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"So, did you learn anything?"
"I guess I learned that there are
other worlds and other civilizations, and that each one has its own
agenda in the universe. It puts things into perspective for me. I
used to think of the human race as God's chosen people, but I'm obviously
wrong.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, who's to say where God's
reign starts and stops? I mean, He could be the overseer of that place
I visited only hours ago; what makes us any better than those beings?"
"You're catching on, my friend.
We're nothing but a little blue spot in a solar system, in a galaxy
with a hundred million solar systems, in a universe with a hundred
million galaxies. And the truth is we don't know where it ends, or
if it does. And we aren't even talking about dimensions yet. Gives
you a headache, doesn't it?
I laughed. "It does at that. Let's
go get that beer."
Gulf War Syndrome -- A Remote View
1990 RV Session:
I got hooked up and lay down to prepare
myself, listening to Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata over
and over. Five times before I started my countdown I listened to the
anguished creation of a man who realized he didn't belong in the world
he found himself in. Five times I listened before I found myself falling
into a tunnel of light and passing into another world.
I landed crouching and lingered for
a moment, gaining my equilibrium. When I rose to my feet I saw a black
world of mist, and a hollow sun above me.
| "Something's wrong!
I'm not at the target, Mel!" I cried. "Mel! I'm off-planet
somewhere!"
Riley was scrambling to figure
out what to do. "Calm down, Morehouse, get a grip and tell
me what you see."
"I'm off-planet and I --
Wait, I hear something."
"What is it?"
|
Brother Mel
Beloved D:.I:.A:. Trickster |
"Quiet! Just wait." And then
I saw it, a Bradley Fighting Vehicle roared past me out of the black
haze. It was quickly followed by another, and yet another, and then
three more. They disappeared into the smoke as quickly as they'd come.
"Sorry, false alarm. I'm where I'm supposed to be." I don't
think I'd ever grinned in the ether before. I thought for sure that
Mel was cursing me under his breath.
"Give me a description of your
surroundings, Dave. I need to try and pinpoint your location."
"Well, I can't see much from here
...there's black smoke everywhere. I must be standing in the plume
of a burning vehicle or something. Let me move to another vantage
point." But no matter where I stopped I found myself completely
immersed in choking black smoke.
"I can't seem to shake this stuff,
it's everywhere. I need to get some real distance if I'm to get out
of the smoke."
"Okay," Mel said, "whenever
you're ready, I want you to move upward five hundred feet and to the
north twenty miles. Go ahead any time.
I felt myself move upward rapidly, and
the ground below me blurred as I sped across the terrain and settled
in the new target area. Here, too, the air was thick with the black
smoke, the ground littered with the rubble of the war. "I still
can't see anything, Mel. I think the entire area is blanketed with
this stuff."
"What's it made of?"
"It tastes and smells like petroleum,
and it's sticky, it coats everything. It's got to be oil. I'm going
to look around -- keep listening, okay?"
"I'm here." Mel had to be
impatient; he'd expected this to be easier, and so had I.
I started moving in large circles, surveying
the ground beneath me and straining to see even fifty feet through
the smoke. Periodically, I came upon wrecked vehicles, more often
civilian than military ones. The tracks of hundreds of vehicles scarred
the sand, almost all going north or northwest. I followed them. I
knew the Iraqi army was in retreat, and I assumed they'd be heading
away from the direction their destroyed weapons were facing in. I
passed over the splayed bodies of many Iraqi soldiers; the smell of
their flesh in the desert heat was masked by the equally sickening
stench of the black smoke.
"I heard something roaring in the
distance, Mel. I'm moving toward it, but the temperature is increasing
rapidly."
"I know, I can see your temp rising
here. Keep your distance and give me your perceptions.
"Don't worry, I'm getting too old
to act stupid."
I traveled along the surface, where
I could see more clearly. The roaring got louder and louder, and the
heat became unbearable. I moved left and right until I found a spot
where the heat was less intense and I could get close enough to glimpse
the source.
"It's an oil well. It's burning
like crazy; flames must be shooting fifty feet or more into the air.
There's raw crude all over the ground, but most of it has already
burned. Mel, I've never seen anything like this up close -- it's like
a blowtorch standing on end. I've got a hole in the smoke here, so
I'm going straight up for a look."
My phantom body rose to a height of
thirty meters or so above the well fire. I turned slowly in the air,
surveying my surroundings. Everywhere, as far as I could see, blazing
torches sprang out of the ground, belching flame and smoke. Plume
mixed with plume until they all joined together in one massive black
blanket. The heat beneath me reminded me that I had a job to do, and
I returned to my lower vantage point.
"This is bad, Mel; every oil well
for as far as I can see is on fire. This is real bad. I don't know
what to do from here. Obviously they know about this -- who could
miss it? Do you think I should come back now?"
Riley thought for a moment. "No;
keep looking around. You're right, they surely know about the fires,
so there must be something else. You've been on target for about fifty
minutes now; can you give it another twenty or thirty minutes before
you come back?"
"No problem. Even here, I like
it better than back there. I'll keep snooping around."
As I turned away from the oil well,
I spotted a small silver object in the sand. "Mel, I think I
see something unusual -- a small canister, looks like stainless steel.
It's stuck in the sand downwind from the fire."
"What is it?" Riley asked.
"I don't know. It's empty, though
-- at least I think it's empty; nothing is coming out of it."
I gazed at the object, which leaned like the Tower of Pisa. About
twenty or so inches high and about three or four inches in diameter,
it was a finished metal cylinder with perhaps four or six inches of
its base wedged into the sand to hold it upright. It narrowed at the
neck, where a valve was placed. A plastic seal had been torn away
and a portion of it lay on the ground next to the cylinder. I circled
it, trying to see something that might indicate what the cylinder
was, but no luck. "There's something odd about this thing. It
just doesn't belong here at all. I'm moving to another wellhead to
see if I can find one that has some markings on it, or if there's
a pattern here."
"Okay, but first can you get a
fix on the location of this one?"
"Too late, I'm already moving.
But I don't think I could give you a fix anyway; I can't see enough
of the terrain to describe it."
"I understand. Let me know what
you find at the next well."
I found similar canisters at every well
I could get to in the next twenty minutes. They varied slightly in
size and shape, but they were always downwind from the fire, as if
to avoid burning their contents. Something about them troubled me
deeply, but I couldn't tell what. "I'm breaking it off and coming
home, Mel."
I completed my summary and sketches
and was on my way to turn them in to Nofi when Kathleen returned from
her session. She was white as a sheet.
"You all right, Kathleen?"
Jenny asked as Mel ran to her.
"I'm fine, I think I just need
to sit down for a while. It was hot in the room --" She slumped
forward in Mel's arms; her session papers fell from her hand and scattered
on the floor. I helped Mel carry her to the couch, where we laid her
down. She was moaning as Jenny dialed 911. Paul Posner appeared with
a cold washcloth to wipe her face, and Nofi scrambled out of his office
in the commotion. I thought I saw him actually get nervous there for
a minute; he thought he was in trouble.
Fortunately, the hospital was just across
the street and down a block or so, and Kathleen was even coming to
by the time the ambulance arrived. I noticed her papers still scattered
on the floor, and I hurried to pick them up before the ambulance crew
came in.
It turned out that Kathleen was dehydrated;
the heat of the viewing room and the intensity of the session had
taken their toll. She'd be fine, and so would the baby; she just wouldn't
be doing any more viewing as long as she was pregnant.
After the ambulance left, I went back
to my desk with a fresh cup of coffee. I'd set Kathleen's papers down
there; now I started putting them in order. And my heart nearly stopped.
There on page five was a sketch of the cylinder in the sand, a sketch
identical to mine.
"Oh, my God," I said aloud.
Riley came to a stop in front of my
desk.
I jumped up and looked around the cubicle
doorway to see if anyone else was coming. The coast was clear, so
I sat Mel down in the chair beside my desk and handed him my sketches
and Kathleen's.
"Look at these." I showed
him my results.
"So?"
"So? Are you kidding me? Look at
them, they're the same as mine."
"Goddamn, Dave, they're supposed
to be the same. You had nearly the same mission."
"No, I didn't. Look at Kathleen's
tasking sheet, it's there at the bottom of the stack. She was supposed
to took for evidence of chemical or biological agents. I was supposed
to look for ' anything of military significance,' like a combat unit
or a weapon, not to look for chemicals or bio-agents. What kind of
fucking game are they playing here?"
Riley looked at me, confused. "I
don't see what you're getting at, Dave."
Suddenly it all seemed clear to me.
The DIA wanted to make sure that a chemical or biological agent had
been released on U.S. troops, but they didn't want anyone else to
know. So they made it appear to us remote viewers that we were targeting
different areas, when in fact we were all targeted on the same area.
They also tried to keep us from talking to one another.
If all of us remote viewers came up
with the same results, the DIA would know that chemical or biological
weapons had been used. However, none of us would know, because we
would never be able to compare notes. Once the use of these unconventional
weapons had been confirmed, the DIA could start their cover-up so
the American public would never find out.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm
down a bit. "Okay, look. We all got called in to help out. Nofi
doesn't want us to help, but we're shoved into his lap from all across
the United States. Second, we're all targeted into the same area,
with just minor changes in the coordinates -- something we wouldn't
notice unless we sat down and compared notes, which is a violation
of protocol. Third, each tasking is worded differently. They know
we'll all stumble on the same thing, though -- they know the signal
line will lead us to the most significant aspect of the site. So we
give them confirmation of the employment of biological or chemical
weapons, and we never even realize what we've done, because the only
one to put it together is Nofi. ["John Nofi" DIA RV Project
Stargate director -B:.B:.]
"And some closed intelligence cell
at DIA," Mel said somberly.
"It's obvious that the Iraqis placed
the canisters next to the fires to mask the plume from the canisters.
So I think they released a slow-acting toxin to poison the coalition
forces, and they covered it up with oil-well fires. Every soldier
downwind of those fires must've inhaled the bug or whatever it was.
The poor fuckers are walking around with time bombs inside themselves,
and the rest of the world is distracted because the environment has
been damaged. It's really slick. Un-fucking-believable." My face
tingled, feeling as though it were a mask and not my own; my hands
were numb. "They know it. Our fucking government knows it and
they don't want anyone else to know it."
"Yeah, can you imagine if this
got out? The fucking war is over and the treaty is being worked on.
If this got out, all hell would break loose!"
"I'm more cynical than that. I
think some lawyer in the Pentagon put a bug in the secretary's ear
about the ramifications of having to answer to fifty thousand legal
or medical claims against the government. I don't think our illustrious
leaders want to break the bank taking care of the thousands of military
who are affected by this thing especially since they don't know what
the extent of the damage is. They'll just deny any knowledge of it,
or spend the next seventy years faking research until everyone affected
is in a box or in a VA hospital. This is a goddamned conspiracy, that's
what it is."
Riley grabbed me by the arm and shook
me. "Just wait a fucking minute. It all sounds good sitting here
at this desk, but think about what you're saying. Think for a minute,
just think." He released me and sat down again, his head in his
hands. "If this is true, it's far bigger than either of us. We
need more evidence. We need some other sessions."
"So pick one. Everybody in the
place is going into the sand and smoke. When do you work the mission?"
Riley shook his head. "My session
won't do any good: I've been shown the results of yours and Kathleen's,
and anyone would say I duplicated your results to cause a ruckus.
Goddammit, Dave, this is not good. We don't have anyone who will listen
to us on this."
"We'll take it to the media!"
"Uh-huh. Who do you think will
give you time to explain that you re a trained military psychic, who
is part of this top- secret program at Fort Meade -- and no, you don't
really work there anymore, they just called you in to visit for this
special project?" He paused to put his hand on my shoulder. "You
getting the picture yet, buddy? We weren't supposed to find this out,
and just in case we did, they brushed their tracks out of the sand.
Nobody will ever believe you. Nobody."
I stared out the window, shaking my
head in disbelief. "So what do we do, Mel? We've seen this; what
do we do, ignore it? Then how are we any different from the guy they
were fighting over there?"
"I don't know," Mel said quietly.
"I'm going to tell Nofi that I
know. I'll leave you out of it, but I want the bastard to know that
I know what the fuckers are up to." I grabbed the papers from
the desk and started out, but Mel blocked my way. "Move, Mel.
I'm doing this!"
"Over my dead body. If you go in
there and let him know that you're on to him, you may walk out of
here tonight. But are you going to make it home? Think about it, asshole,
what are you to them? If they went to these lengths to keep this quiet,
do you think they'll let a burnout like you spoil their secret for
them? How long do you think it would take them to kill you -- or just
discredit you? Oh how are those goddamned nightmares, anyway?"
"Fuck you, Mel!"
"No, fuck you! You want some more?
Where's your wife and children? How come they don't live with you
anymore? Is it because you see things in the night? Is it because
you walk in your sleep and swing at phantoms? What did you go home
every night and tell your wife and kids about? Didn't you tell them
that you could travel in time and see things remote in time and space.
Didn't you do that, Major Morehouse? Isn't it true that you are simply
delusional, perhaps psychotic?"
"You want to take on the big intelligence
machine. You want to stand up like some fucking hero and tell the
world that you saw the sons and daughters of the world poisoned by
a madman. Then you want to add that the U.S. government orchestrated
a cover-up. Oh, yes, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen of the court-martial
jury, we have a prime lunatic on our hands. We strongly recommend
that you find him guilty of treason and lock his fucking ass in Leavenworth
until he dies. No, no -- better yet, let's give him some good mind-altering
drugs and keep him in a hospital somewhere so his mom and dad can
watch their son eat baby food through a straw." Riley was shaking
with anger and frustration. "You can't do this now." He
dropped to the chair, exhausted. "You can't. It will serve no
purpose, and you will die in the process, I promise you. You have
a family to think about. Now don't make me give you the fucking water
parable again, okay? Just let it go for now. Please tell me you will
let it go for now. Everything has it's season; this will, too. But
not now. Promise me."
I bit my lip in frustration, yet I knew
he was right. Everything he said was true, and speaking up would solve
nothing. The heroes had been poisoned and I could say nothing. Nobody
would ever believe me.
"I promise." I wiped a tear
from my eye. "I promise."
I saw what happened ... and now, the
babies of the heroes are dying.
Excerpt from:
Psychic Warrior
1996 by David Morehouse
St Martins Press, New York
ISBN 0-312-14708-2
