To Believe: A Man’s Quest to Understand Reality

by M I A Harba

  He got the tent out and pitched it. He fetched the sleeping bag, his food, and his backpack and put them in the tent. The sky began to acquire its dark blue hue gradually, and the early stars and planets started to glow. The thin crescent was low over the horizon but would soon disappear behind it.

  The night was black, lit only by the stars, bright and sparkling against the black background. He went inside his tent and ate his sandwiches. He had the tent’s door flung open to let the fresh air in. He then decided to lay a square tarp sheet at the front of the tent and spread the sleeping bag on it. He lay on his back facing the skies, mesmerised by its beauty. In the city, there was no chance of seeing as many stars or as clearly. There must be billions of stars he could see, and, no doubt, there were trillions he couldn't.

  As Sam lay on the sleeping bag, a new display of UFOs unfolded. There was an enormous activity with tens of little lights playing up above, for whatever audience was looking at them. Many light blobs, in formations or out of formations, moved in all directions. It was as though they were orchestrating a play to his pleasure, and, indeed, it was a great pleasure watching them play. The findings of the author John Keel rang loud in his mind. These were not spaceships from outer space, they were part of a phenomenon still ununderstood.

  There was no harm watching this outstanding display of lights, he decided. What surprised him most was how some of these blobs shot down towards the earth, disappearing in the desert beyond. He couldn't tell whether they disappeared a few kilometres or hundreds of kilometres away from him. But their movement in that direction was consistent and persisted for the time he was observing them.

  If these blobs were disappearing within a kilometre from his location, he could take the risk and walk over there to see. Maybe this phenomenon, the one Mr Keel was talking about, was related to the reality he couldn’t see. It could perhaps be related to consciousness that was behind evolution and everything else in this world. It wouldn't hurt if he went over there, provided he maintained a mindset of suspicion and disbelief. However, he wasn't sure of the distance so decided not to go.

  The horizon looked like a thin line lazily drawn to separate the glittering stars from total darkness. He kept watching that line to see if the camel caravan was there, too. He knew the caravan was not real, but perhaps a manifestation of the same phenomenon. For some reason, his brain synched with the vision of a caravan, just like those expecting to see spaceships or visitors from beyond the heavens. Even the elusive guest was talking about this camel caravan but providing no answers. He said the brain models everything that we see and experience.

  The caravan might not be there, but the brain makes us believe it is. Just like a gamer wearing a virtual reality headset. He will believe, or his mind makes him believe, whatever the headset is displaying as 3D space in front of his eyes. If within a virtual reality scene, he's on the edge of a cliff, he would be treading extremely carefully for fear of falling. It is that believable. Is this phenomenon playing a kind of virtual reality display on our brains? Well, it could be that but there is no way to find out.

  He thought about the Simulation Hypothesis, again. Proponents of the theory believe UFOs are glitches in the simulation programme. If that is true, then there are lots of glitches that night, hundreds of them. Such a programme would not be considered sturdy enough in today's standards of coding. This is perhaps another nail in the coffin of the Simulation Hypothesis as far as he was concerned. It makes us see, feel, and believe the simulated environment absolutely perfectly, so why does it glitch when one looks at the sky on such a beautiful night, in the middle of the desert? Why don't we see such glitches when we look at a house, a table, an animal, or a plant?

  Even Deja vu is rare and has only been experienced by a few individuals. It could be related to the psyche of the person. Many of us have experienced situations where we believe we had lived a scene before, but is it déjà vu or our own imagination? Sam was more inclined to believe the latter. However, he remembered the Simulation Hypothesis had gained traction amongst reputable scientists recently, so he couldn’t be sure.

  He noticed a large blob of light in the form of a glittering disc, moving fast overhead and falling to the ground a few kilometres away. That was the nearest UFO experience he'd ever had. It was followed by many other UFOs, big and small, exhibiting the same fall to the ground and disappearing from view. If they hit the ground, he expected a big explosion that, even if he couldn't see it, he could still feel vibrations in the ground. But there were none. Those things were not hitting the ground and exploding but going through the ground as though it never existed.

  It could be explained by how everything is built of atoms that are essentially empty space. If these UFOs can take advantage of this empty space, they can propagate through the atoms of the earth, and there will be no explosion to feel. It was only a wild idea without a scientific basis, and Sam wasn't going to allow his brain to stray away with such outlandish ideas.

  He kept gazing at the horizon, waiting to see any caravan but still nothing. Instead, he noticed the outline of an accumulation of dark clouds in the distance. A thunderstorm was brewing, he thought but wasn’t sure. It was getting a little cold, so he crawled back into his tent but kept gazing at the sky from inside. The warmth offered by the tent gave him a sense of security.

  From within the tent, he could still see UFOs playing in the sky above. The acrobatic displays continued unabated and seemed to be concentrated within his area of view from within the tent. It was as though the UFOs knew he was inside and decided to concentrate its activities in his line of vision. If non-believers in UFOs were here, they would change their minds and believe the phenomenon at once.

  He had no doubts UFOs existed, but he disagreed with the interpretation that they are spaceships from outer space. Scientists have disregarded the existence of this phenomenon outright, never mind interpreting it as spaceships from outer space. The huge distances involved in interstellar travel, and the maximum speed limit in the universe, the speed of light, render this interpretation impractical. Lightspeed is the upper-speed limit of any movement in this universe, and there is no way aliens from even the nearest stars could reach us quickly enough. It would take them years, hundreds if not thousands of years.

  The distances to stars are measured in light-years, which converts to the distance light travels within a year. The nearest star to us is Proxima Centauri, whose light takes more than four years to reach us. Even if we can observe this star now, we are in effect observing it's past, four years ago. If aliens on a planet near this star, send us a radio message, the message will take four years to reach us. And if we transmit back a response, our response will take four years to reach them. So, it's an 8-year-round trip. Who can guarantee the sender’s interest remains after eight years?

  This is, of course, assuming that there are planets around that star, and these planets are inhabited by intelligent civilizations. So far, we have seen no evidence of intelligence anywhere in the universe, but Earth.

  This phenomenon was playing tricks on Sam with its display of a light blob circus. But why him? Was it because he was alone? Or was it because he was looking for something to believe in, and this provided an opportunity for this phenomenon to take advantage of his willingness to accept something? He was indeed vulnerable, and his mind was confused. This phenomenon could probably detect such vulnerability, and he appeared an interesting target.

  He was sure if the phenomena realised the display of UFOs did not achieve its purpose, it might do something else to attract his attention. He might not be the ideal target, as his mind was tainted with the belief this phenomenon was weird and had its own agenda.

  This phenomenon sent humans, dressed in black suits as described in Mr Keel’s book, to vulnerable people like Mr Keel himself at one stage. Here in the desert, men in black suits would look obnoxious and glaringly unrealistic against the desert harsh environment. Even Sam, the way he dressed was not desert-like but somewh
ere between city and desert. If such aliens were to approach him, they needed to dress like him, or like Bedouins. Was that Bedouin, the one who visited him in his house twice before, one of these aliens? He thought the idea was absurd and purged it from his brain immediately.

  He continued to watch the interesting display of UFOs, dancing in the sky above him, and disappearing. His surroundings were dead quiet, and the breeze was so soft it only just brushed against the tent, making no noise. The warmth of the sleeping bag gave him a comfortable euphoric feeling. However, the distant flashes of lightning of the looming thunderstorm were getting nearer as the clouds moved in his direction. He couldn’t hear the sound of thunder, so assumed it was too far. He reasoned whether to stay in his tent or drive back to the house. He couldn’t find the effort to fold the tent and drive back and didn’t think the storm was coming his way. It posed no real threats, therefore, so he decided to stay.

  He must have dozed off, for the next thing he heard was the flapping of the tent door that he left unzipped. Thunder had become more pronounced, and it was raining. It wasn’t pouring down, but sporadic droplets. He stuck his head out of the door, and what he saw scared him. A very dark cloud hung above him, and the display of UFOs had disappeared.

  He knew the night would be much worse than he predicted, as the worst was yet to come. It was too late to drive back to the house. He got out of the tent, went around it, making sure the guyline pegs were firmly in, and all lines were tight enough. He zipped the tent's door shut and waited.

  He analysed his situation, and it didn’t look good. He didn’t know if he pitched the tent in the path of a flash flood likely to follow the rapid rain of the storm. He didn’t pay attention to this when he pitched the tent. Further, lightning was a serious threat to his tent. Barring his pickup, the tent was the highest in the immediate vicinity, and electricity was likely to hit such elevated places. However, there were rock outcrops not far, which could attract the lightning strikes, but he wasn’t sure. It was a high risk, but there was nothing he could do about it then.

  Then the storm hit. The sound of thunder was deafening, and the light flashes came strong like extremely bright searchlights that propagated through the canvass of the tent. The wind came in gusts, and the tent shook like a leaf. He was expecting the tent to take to the air any minute.

  The rain came down in buckets like a tap opened in a rush. Droplets of the rain managed to enter his tent somehow, and everything was getting damp.

  He remained trapped in his tent amongst this deluge and ferocious wind. He regretted not driving back to his house when he had the chance. It had become a survival situation then, his survival. It was indeed a frightening experience, not worth the truffles he came searching for. His damp sleeping bag, and the chilly air, deprived him of that warm feeling before. His despair was edging towards panic.

  He wanted to cry in this predicament, but his sobs would go unheard by anyone. He felt the panic in his stomach, which started churning. His breathing became difficult, as though the rainwater had replaced all the oxygen in the air, and he was gasping for breath.

  He felt one of the tent’s guylines had become loose, and it was whipping the tent violently. It was only a matter of time before all guylines became loose, and the tent flew away. Would he tumble in the tent and hit one of these rock outcrops and die instantly? Or would he break an arm or a leg, and die a slow agonising death? He wished for the former.

  That lasted for about an hour, when the wind gusting showed some mercy on him. They became less violent, and the thunder less pronounced. Miraculously, the tent held, although at least a few guylines had become loose. The inside of the tent was completely damp, and he could feel the accumulated condensation. He was shivering all over, and the only clothes he had were what he had on, which had become damp, too. He was in a miserable situation, feeling sorry for himself. Once again, he underestimated the challenges of life in the desert. Was his decision to leave the city the right decision? He started to have his doubts, again.

  Sometimes during the chaos, he thought he heard scratches on the outside of the tent. He sat silent and waited. Was it the wind? Or was it a wolf scratching the tent with his claws for a meal? However, wolves don’t hunt in such bad weather, he thought.

  He got his torch on the ready, extracted his gun from the backpack, and loaded a bullet in the chamber. If it was a wolf, he should fire in the air and, hopefully, the wolf will go away, scared by the sound of the bullet’s discharge. Or was it a shrub blown by the wind scratching against the tent? He didn't know and waited to hear that sound again.

  Then the sound came back, clear, and distinct. It was like somebody scratching the outside of the tent with their fingernails. So, he pointed his gun out of the door and fired. The bang was so loud it deafened his ears for a few seconds. Hopefully, that sound should’ve scared whatever animal or predator that was trying to get in. Then the sound came unmistakeable,

  ‘Don't fire dear brother. I'm a guest… Unarmed. I have no intention to hurt you,’ said the voice outside.

  ‘Who are you? and what do you want?’ asked Sam, sounding panicky and uncertain.

  ‘I'm seeking shelter… please. I've been walking many hours and I need somewhere to wait out this storm. I saw your car and your tent… and am asking for your generosity… please. Please don't shoot… I need shelter… no more,’ replied the voice.

  ‘Will you please come to the front of the tent, and let me see you,’ demanded Sam.

  ‘Alright… please don't shoot… There is no need to shoot.’

  That person moved in front of the tent, and Sam pointed his torchlight on his face. It was still raining outside, but the wind had subsided appreciably. Then a huge surprise descended upon Sam, like one of the lightning bolts of the storm. It was the same elusive guest who visited him before.

  ‘I know you. You visited me before, and you disappeared without leaving a mark? Who are you?’ asked Sam.

  ‘I'm your guest… brother. I'm very glad to meet you again… You have been such a hospitable person to me… I'm really grateful.’

  He had the same clothes and the same Kalashnikov slung upon his shoulders but not pointing that hazardous muzzle at him. It was not a threatening posture. Sam was undecided, should he let the same elusive guest in again like he did last time, but now, within the confines of a small, cold, and damp tent? It was a difficult call.

  ‘Brother, you are scaring me, to say the least. I’m not in a state to offer shelter or hospitality. My tent is soaked wet, and everything inside is wet, too. You always appear when I'm alone and vulnerable. I don't even know where you come from. There are no towns or villages anywhere around here, and I don’t know where you come from.

  ‘Where do you come from? and why me?’ Sam asked in a difficult-to-hide panic.

  ‘Will you please let me in… I might be able to comfort you… I assure you… I pose no threat or harm to you… Let me in, please.’

  Sam was uncertain, and his hesitation became obvious. He thought the visitor’s AK47 was much more deadly than his small gun. If that man wanted to harm him, he could have fired, and he would be dead by now. He could’ve done this without asking for help and shelter. The threat was there but probably not imminent or planned. Reluctantly, he answered in a broken voice,

  ‘do come in… It's a very small tent… you have to crawl in. It’s also damp.’

  ‘Thank you, brother… I know… I will crawl in.’

  Sam had his torchlight’s beam focused on the man’s face as he crawled inside, He had the same complexion he saw before, with the same trim of beard and moustache. It was as if he was living that moment again when he met him a few weeks ago.

  ‘I'm sorry… I don't have anything to cook with. I can't make coffee or tea… But you are welcome to some of my sandwiches, and some dates… And a drink of water,’ said Sam.

  ‘Most appreciated, brother… Some dates and water will be absolutely fine… Thank you,’ said the visitor.

&
nbsp; Sam retrieved the leftover sandwiches, as well as some dates and a bottle of water, and put them on the edge of the sleeping bag, in front of the guest.

  ‘It’s a very wet night, and windy too. Your tent is damp,’ said the visitor.

  ‘Tell me about it. It’s the wrong tent for this weather, and it’s a mistake to have ventured out, not paying attention to the weather,’ said Sam.

  The guest started eating and drinking, without saying much. It was as if he was trying to calm down the atmosphere within the tent, to remove any fear and anxiety Sam might have. To Sam, the guest appeared a harmless visitor, enjoying the food and drinks of his hospitality. He felt at ease.

  ‘You know what, I don't even know your name. You visited me twice before and I didn't, out of politeness, ask for your name. I left it for you to give me your name,’ Sam said, using his city-style of talk, not bothering with the traditions of desert life.

  ‘Well, I could have given you any name. It doesn't really matter. You see me as I am now, and the name I may give could be real or unreal in your mind. I can see uncertainty and distrust in your eyes, which I fully understand,’ said the guest.

  ‘Forgive me, brother, but put yourself in my position. You appeared out of nowhere twice before, and now you managed to find me in a small tent within a huge desert, not necessarily on a path people might take. So, yes, I am a bit concerned and, frankly, completely disorientated about what’s around me.’

  ‘I understand, brother. Hopefully, we can continue with our discussions from last time, and your mind might come to a kind of understanding. To remove all the uncertainty and disbelief,’ said the guest.

  ‘Well last time, if you had stayed till the morning, I would have been able to continue with our discussions. But you departed, leaving no trace behind. You left me completely puzzled. I honestly don't know whether you are real, or my mind had created you in my hour of loneliness and anxiety,’ said Sam.