by Wm. Barnard
“While I hadn’t really thought about life on other planets a great deal, but I always guessed it was possible. But when we were discussing it at the restaurant last night, Jason brought up some interesting points,” Vanessa replied.
“Like what?”
“Well, if they brought us here, who created them?”
“I don’t know, but… what does it matter?” I said, caught off guard by the question.
“Well, it’s not very practical from the standpoint of design. The human body is a complex design, which is evidence of a designer. It’s the same logic of why I don’t believe in evolution and why I believe the Bible when it says that God created us.”
I unsuccessfully fought back a smirk as I thought of a question that would stumble her reasoning. “What does the Bible say about extraterrestrials?”
“It doesn’t.” She paused and squinted at the ceiling. “Well, at least I don’t think it does.”
“Okay. And who created God?” I refolded my arms and leaned back.
“No one. He’s always existed,” she said it as if it were a matter-of-fact and poured some more juice into our two glasses.
“That sounds like a convenient answer.”
“Look, Zach. I don’t pretend to know everything, but there are some basic principles of the Bible that actually make sense if you think about it. I don’t mind discussing these types of questions, and I hope you don’t either because you can expect a lot more everywhere you go after that article.”
“It’s not like I have to convince anyone of anything. If photographic evidence and eyewitness testimony isn’t enough, they’ll see for themselves one day.”
“You know, I still feel pretty new to my faith so I don’t feel like I have that much knowledge, but something tells me that there is something very disturbing about all this. I mean…”
“What’s disturbing is that the story throws a monkey wrench in your Christian view.” I pointed my index finger at the table.
“Zach…” she said, rolling her eyes before taking a big swig off her juice.
“Look…” I took a short breath and consciously changed my tone.
“Like I told you, I was pretty fearful about meeting the Ancestors at first. But once I did, I was truly glad it happened. It was like, well, a religious experience,” I said clasping my hands together.
“And that’s what scares me, Zach,” Vanessa said, looking directly at me.
“Look, you found something that makes you happy and that’s great. I have found happiness and hope through meeting my Ancestors. I mean, I’m really excited about the prospect of them coming to bring peace on earth.”
“I don’t doubt you are excited and happy. I just want you to be careful…” The doorbell cut her off.
“That must be Jason and Pam. We’re going over to Balboa Park.” Vanessa said, putting down her juice and shuffling over to answer the front door. “Hey guys, come on in. Pam, this is my brother, Zach.”
Pam had a cute, but round face and looked to be in her early twenties. Her short, red cropped hair and lightly freckled face, which lacked an ounce of makeup, gave her a tomboyish appearance that became magnified with her Giants baseball t-shirt and faded blue jean attire. I immediately thought it odd that she would be hanging out with two people almost twice her age and who definitely appeared much different than her. I learned she had moved here from San Francisco, and she had recently attended her first ever church service, which was where she had met my sister.
After my brief introduction to Pam, I turned my attention to Jason. “So, Vanessa was just telling me you have some issues with the story I wrote.”
“Well, I personally don’t doubt for a minute that you did interact with some alien beings. What I have a problem with is the message they gave you. I think there are some serious ulterior motives going on.”
“You don’t think they come in peace?” I said, folding my arms and wondering how he could jump to such a conclusion.
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head.
Thrusting my hands into the air and flicking my fingers outward for emphasis, I had to ask the obvious. “Well, why didn’t they just zap all of us right there and start their reign of terror?”
“Because they want you to propagate their lie,” Jason said with his hands resting on his hips.
“Their lie? Pfffttt…” I let out a small puff of air and slightly cocked my head to the side.
“Okay, let me back up. I think the aliens were telling you the truth when they said one day a huge population of the earth would vanish. But here’s the part that I believe they twisted. My take on the scriptures is that Jesus will come and remove his people right before the worst period in the history of our planet.”
“So wait, let me get this straight. Jesus just bails out on mankind and leaves those remaining so they can wait to be destroyed? That sure sounds like some loving God you have there,” I said, staggered that this guy seemed to sincerely believe all the spew that came out of his mouth.
‘Look, the Bible says that God does not delight in the death of the wicked, but wants all to come to repentance. It’s not…”
“You know what?” I interrupted. “You can say all this and believe it because you have heard others say it, but none of you have seen Jesus. I saw The Ancestors. I talked with The Ancestors.”
“He’s got a good point,” Pam spoke up. “I don’t really see why it’s such a terrible thing to believe in both God and extraterrestrials.”
“Because Pam, the Bible warns us that demons come as angels of light. They may bring a ton of truth to the table, but when you really examine the context, it’s a lie. I’ll flat out tell you: I think these aliens are interdimensional beings who are none other than the legions of Satan.”
“Oh, boy, is he for real?” I laughed, turning to Pam for an answer.
“I don’t think I can convert you, Zach,” Jason continued. “I do hope you would at least consider what your sister and I do for a living. We didn’t come to some rash conclusion about the claims of Jesus and the Scriptures. We approached it like a detective and did our own investigation.”
“Well, Jason, remember this: I am an investigative journalist. I take a similar approach to uncovering a story as you do on a case. I’m pretty sure that when you’re building your case against someone, you always look for the eyewitnesses. Well, I am the eyewitness! Over fifty others experienced what I did! The videos and photos don’t lie. I’d hope that’d be enough for you to at least consider things you might not understand yet.”
“Zach, over five hundred people saw Jesus when he resurrected…” Jason said apparently ignoring what I just stated.
“Ahem…” Vanessa coughed. “Jason, we need to get going if we are going to find a close parking spot.”
“Yeah, Jason, could you go ahead and send over some of that video footage of Jesus getting beamed up during his ascension to heaven when you get the chance?”
Jason shook his head, clenched his jaw shut and he kept his eyes on Vanessa as she walked between us. He clearly wanted to continue the debate, but Vanessa reached back and tugged on his arm.
“Well, I certainly look forward to reading more of your stories, Zach. I thought it was fascinating,” said Pam smiling at me as she leaned forward to shake my hand.
Jason then turned on his professional demur and quickly said, “My disagreement with you is nothing personal, Zach,” before offering a businesslike handshake.
“Not a problem,” I replied, but didn’t mean it.
Watching the two walk out to the driveway, I could tell by Jason’s hand gestures he desperately hoped to sway Pam to his opinion. Vanessa stayed back to tell me she would return in a few of hours and would give me a ride if I needed, but I told her it wasn’t necessary and thanked her for letting me stay.
When she closed the door, I let out a deep breath of relief. The Ancestors had warned me this would happen. Still agitated with Jason’s line of reasoning, I had no real desire to try t
o convince someone who wanted to hold on to their ignorance.
While still excited about sharing my story with others, I also recognized how tiresome it would be if that was the only thing anybody wanted to talk about with me. The real burden would ostensibly come from dealing with the skeptics and hearing the rant of those who always seemed to have a conspiracy theory for everything. Just as some still doubted that humans had actually visited the moon, they would say my cohorts and I had cooked up this elaborate tale. I knew I would need to make a conscious decision in the future to try and avoid any lengthy debates with skeptics, especially nuts from the religious right.
After calling a cab, I walked outside to wait on the sidewalk. Soon a red, white and blue taxi sped by me in a cloud of gray haze, filling the street with the sickening smell of burnt oil and antifreeze. Realizing his mistake, the driver suddenly hit the brakes. When he threw the vehicle into reverse, the transmission made a loud clunking noise. Now parked in front of me and planted firmly in his seat, the elderly cab driver glanced down at my luggage. His indifferent expression told me that the only energy he would be expending to help out was to push the button that opened the trunk. The heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes conveyed the end of a long shift so I happily lifted the luggage into the trunk myself and jumped into the empty back seat.
The cab jerked to a halt in the Hilton’s semi-circle driveway where I waved off the bellman and paid the driver. Standing inside at the black, marble reception desk, Johnny nodded at me as I walked in. While hoping my hat and sunglasses would be a sufficient disguise, I deliberately avoided looking at anyone.
Once inside the tiny living room of my suite, I flipped on the TV and ordered a huge plate of nachos from room service.
“So Johnny, get a load of this breakfast debate I had over at Vanessa’s this morning. Her church crew was claiming that I saw some demonic apparition.”
“What? You gotta be kidding me.”
“Seriously. Listening to this Jason guy sounded like I was watching one of those fruit loop preachers on a bad cable-access channel.”
“Oh man, that must have been weird. But, really, what’d you expect from religious people?”
“Yeah, I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it.”
“If it means anything to you, everyone I’ve talked to said they thought it was great.”
Shortly after the server delivered our food, we both leaned toward the TV when a young female anchor announced that her station was about to broadcast my video footage of alien aircraft.
When the screen revealed the orange triangular ships rotating in the dark sky, Johnny’s eyes widened and he exclaimed softly, “This is insane!”
“I’ve watched this clip a hundred times and still can’t believe it.”
“What? What just happened? I thought there were six ships?” Johnny’s brow crumpled.
“I don’t know, either. It’s like they just fused together and became one gigantic mother ship.”
“My gosh! How big is that thing?”
“I couldn’t begin to tell you.” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.
“It looks like a floating city,” Johnny said, unable to move his eyes off the screen.
“Yeah, I was terrified the thing was going to land and crush us all.”
“I don’t see how anyone could doubt that this is definitely an alien air craft.”
With the ship hovering above the pole barn, the clip abruptly ended as the anchorwoman returned to our screen. She then informed viewers they could expect more footage, stating her network would soon possess a video of actual alien beings and their message for the world, just as “writer Zach Miller had recently claimed in his groundbreaking article that chronicled an extraterrestrial visitation.”
When they cut away to a commercial break, I shared some of the details of the story that I had left out of the article with Johnny. After my confrontation with Jason earlier at my sister’s house, it was enjoyable recounting the event to someone with a receptive ear.
MY AGENT JOEL WHITTEN ARRANGED a closed press conference for the upcoming Friday at another downtown hotel, inviting a select group of reporters who were provided a short list of topics I would be willing to discuss. In case of a leak about the conference, we hired a security firm to prevent uninvited parties from bombarding me with questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. Attempting to bring this story to the world on my terms, I hoped I could dictate to the media instead of vice versa.
A mid-size banquet hall had been arranged for the interviews, which turned out to be more than adequate to accommodate the twenty-one reporters and their camera men. While initially nervous before walking onto the small stage, once I got behind the podium I decided to just relax and have fun with it.
Before fielding questions, I informed them that they could expect to see the video of Shanda’s speech released within the next week. I assured them that the footage would reveal my article had recorded his exacts words and nothing had been taking out of context.
A few rows back from where I stood fellow San Diego State alumni and Los Angeles Times writer, Kent Jones asked, “You wrote that these extraterrestrials have tried to help us along the way. How so?”
“Yes, I touched on that briefly in the article. Many of the so-called miracles of the past were actually works of The Ancestors. I’m talking everything from miraculous healings to methods of farming. You don’t have to look hard to see they’ve passed on all kinds of technological innovations that helped us advance. For example, when you examine the ruins of Puma Punka in Bolivia, you see that it would have been impossible for that civilization to build such a monument with laser-like precision on their own. There is actually a vast trail of evidence all over the globe that points to previous interactions with The Ancestors.”
Raising his index finger before speaking, Boston Globe reporter Clint McConnell asked, “Have you been in contact with any of our government officials after this encounter?”
“No, but I’m glad you asked that. I’d like to be up front and say I don’t mind cooperating and answering any questions they may have. While I’ve already stated in the article everything I know, I do reserve the journalist privilege of keeping my sources confidential. To protect the privacy of those who were at the ranch, I simply cannot and will not reveal any of their names.”
Phyllis Cooke, a reporter for the San Diego Chronicle, stood up and asked, “How do we know that they have good intentions and aren’t planning an attack?”
“Seems odd to me that they would announce their arrival if they are planning an attack. Kind of takes away the element of surprise, doesn’t it?” I answered.
Cooke tilted her head quizzically in response, then asked, “But they also stated that they would be taking away a portion of the population to ‘re-educate’ on a different planet. That could be construed as less than benign. Did they give you any indication of who those people would be?”
“You’re correct. They said there are certain people who have been keeping the rest of humanity from evolving and that these people would have to be relocated, but they did say these same people would be eventually reunited with the rest of humankind. As far as who might be on that list, I have no idea, but I guess you could start with those sitting inside the California Correctional Facilities,” I said shrugging my shoulders and some of the reporters laughed. “Phyllis, I’m not trying to dismiss your question because it’s a valid one, but I wasn’t given any more information than that.”
“Why did they choose you to write the story?” John Holcombe from The New York Times asked.
“No idea. I’m just as good a hack as anyone, I suppose.”
“A two-time Joseph Runyon award winning hack,” Holcombe said, smiling back at me.
“Well thanks, John, but I’m not exactly sure. Being unemployed didn’t hurt. But honestly, I think staying objective as well as open-minded is the key. We journalists get pretty cynical because we think we have seen it all. Doing this story reminded me of
how much we don’t know.”
With her chin resting on her fist, Courtney Morris from the local FOX affiliate asked the million dollar question. “Did these aliens give you any indication of when they plan on coming back?”
“Great question. They said “soon” and obviously that’s a relative term, but I do believe they are trying to start preparing us for their arrival. When that will actually be, I don’t know.”
After fielding a few more questions, I thanked all of them for coming, and more importantly, for treating me with dignity and respect. Wanting to be transparent, I explained that while I also had many more questions myself, it seemed reasonable to expect that many of those answers would prove difficult for us to fully comprehend.
Even with the conference over, I still didn’t feel comfortable moving back to my house as I knew I could expect intrusions from reporters wanting an interview at basically all hours of the day. I had hoped that by calling the conference and answering questions upfront I could detract some attention away from myself, but experience told me that plenty of others would seek to get their own story.
On my way back to the hotel, I found a moment to call back Alex Yelle from NASA. Curious if they had any strange readings on their satellites over the Sierras that night at the ranch, I doubted if he could even disclose such information. Somewhat surprised that I hadn’t already been called in for questioning by some government faculty, I assumed it would happen sooner than later. Desiring to be cautious, I took an extra fifteen minutes to find a payphone because I still didn’t trust anyone working with the government. Fortunately a corner liquor store not only provided the almost obsolete phone, but sold phone cards as well. An elderly Russian clerk eyed me suspiciously through the glass front door as I leaned against the front of the brick building and dialed the Houston, Texas area code.
“This is Alex Yelle.”
“Hey Alex. This is Zach Miller, returning your call.”
“Great! Thanks for calling back.” His voice changing from monotone to extremely excited.
“Mr. Miller, I work for NASA’s Origin Program so I am obviously eager to speak with you. How have you been feeling since your encounter?”