The Portent

by Michael S. Heiser

  “It doesn’t differ entirely, but significantly. We aren’t interested in starting a global religion, as if there could ever be such a thing. Whether religious or irreligious, people will react to disclosure in many ways. All we care about is that people believe the reality we’ve created is real. And the belief in ET is part of our own strategy. We’ll bring humanity’s childhood to an end for other purposes.”

  He went on. “The Group planned to cast itself as the receiver of alien blessings and just make up a narrative about ET’s eventual arrival—conditioned, of course, on whether humanity formed the sort of society that the Group wanted. Again, it was all about what people could be made to believe, nothing more. We’ll be using a similar strategy toward a different end.”

  “So what part of the Group’s thinking included new Nephilim?”

  “The Group was divided on what happens after the ET myth went viral. Several members had a deep hatred of Christians and Jews. They thought something needed to be done to make villains of those two groups once people believed the lie. That’s where the Nephilim issue comes into play.”

  “You say they thought?”

  The Colonel gazed at him thoughtfully. Brian could tell instantly that the innocuous question had somehow given the Colonel pause.

  “Yes, past tense. The Group has been … disbanded.”

  “There’s no more Group?”

  “Not for the time being. No doubt it will reconstitute itself at some point.” He paused briefly. “But back to your Nephilim question. Leaking the idea that the extraterrestrial reality was somehow connected to Genesis 6 would certainly—pardon the pun—demonize any ET disclosure in the minds of those who consider the Bible authoritative, no matter how wonderful an eventual ET visitation could be marketed. That would, in turn, place those Bible-believers in opposition to humanity’s progress—an opposition that simply could not be tolerated with humanity so close to realizing solutions to all its problems. The malcontents would simply have to be eliminated.”

  “But you also don’t favor that?”

  “Our use of Nephilim mythology has a different goal. We can capitalize on the Group’s successes in that area.”

  “How do you plan to link the mythical alien benefactors to the Nephilim?” Brian already suspected the answer but wanted to draw the Colonel out.

  “That’s already been done. The Group used the alien-abduction mythology, which of course has nothing to do with aliens.”

  “So you’re admitting the whole abduction mythology is your invention.”

  “It’s simple psychological warfare, along with mind-control techniques. We feed abductee testimony about alien-human hybrids to people through screen memories we put there. It’s about implanting the idea that humanity is on the verge of becoming more than human—a very productive meme. People eventually share those memories, which then find their way into popular culture …”

  “… where the media picks up the meme and makes it global,” Brian completed the thought.

  “Precisely. The result is that thousands of people who aren’t really abducted parrot the experience as part of a natural, brain-driven experience we have nothing to do with. These mind-control techniques were pioneered by German psychologists and psychiatrists who came to the United States under Operation PAPERCLIP. The Nazi rocket scientists brought here under that program were, of course, more famous, but the psychological warriors were just as effective. You saw an example of it with Ms. Leyden.”

  “You make abusing people sound like applying for a grant. You programmed Becky and just threw her life away because you could.”

  “My use of Ms. Leyden was a little more strategic than that, Dr. Scott. I had to flush you out of hiding. Perhaps if that had been easier, she’d still be alive. Perhaps if her boyfriend hadn’t stolen government property—”

  “Cut the crap, Colonel. You killed her.”

  “If such a childlike approach helps you parse recent events, so be it. Ms. Leyden had important information. She never admitted to showing you and Dr. Kelley the fragments of the Nazi plans for the Antarctic base, but I’m sure she did. We need to control all such information. It will serve a purpose now that we know of its existence.”

  “How could it possibly matter?” Brian demanded angrily. “Why couldn’t you just leave her out of this?”

  “It’s easy to arrange a marriage between Nazi eugenics and the occult mythology of the SS about how the master race came from space gods, professor. Ever heard of Miguel Serrano?”

  “No.”

  “I’m certain Dr. Kelley has. She could spell it out for you with little effort. Serrano was a Chilean diplomat and intellectual leader in global neo-Nazism. He believed in the celestial origin of the Aryan race. In his view, they came from a race of gods called the Hyperboreans who dwell at a remote place in the galaxy that is illuminated by the Black Sun, which is far beyond our own golden sun and invisible from earth. He thought Aryans came here and took embodied form—an original race of divine men. Serrano wrote much about these origins and the noble struggle of the Aryan against the Demiurge, whom Jews call Yahweh, an evil deity who controls this planet.”

  “That’s just Gnosticism.”

  “Serrano adapted Gnosticism to his own tastes and made it serve his mythology of the Aryans, or as he called them, divyas, a Sanskrit term. These are the intellectual seeds of the Aryan war against the Jew. But do you see how easily these threads can be married to ancient astronaut beliefs in a distant planet inhabited by alien gods? It’s a trivial task to associate this with Nibiru, the mythical Planet X that’s so popular these days.”

  “I do,” Brian replied.

  “There’s so much more. Serrano was quite eclectic in his thinking. He proposed that the divyas, or Aryans, arrived here from Venus through a cosmic portal that allowed them to get to this solar system. In an attempt to destroy them, the Demiurge created bestial creatures, soulless, ape-like golems in the Jewish vocabulary. Descendants of the high gods from which the Aryan race came tried to put a stop to all this, but when they came to earth, some of them betrayed the cause by interbreeding with the female creatures—and so the sons of the gods mingled their seed with the daughters of the beast-men. I believe you know the story.”

  Brian sat quietly, absorbing the implications.

  “The result of all this, as you can surmise, was the rise of the impure races of less divine quality than the Aryan. This in turn caused chaos in the cosmic order—a frightful turn of events, that was. The earth was hit by comets that caused a global flood. The remaining Hyperboreans vanished into refuges at the South Pole and in underground cities like Agartha and Shamballah. Of course, when the comets hit, that caused a pole shift, and so the Hyperborean refuge wound up in the far north—which is what the term hyperborean means. I presume you remember your Greek.”

  “Go on,” Brian growled.

  “Do you remember any Greek mythology associated with Hyperborea?”

  “Yeah. It’s the place the god Apollo went every nineteen years to rejuvenate his body and mind.”

  “Quite. Hmm, Apollo … Where have I heard the term before?” The Colonel’s face twisted into one of menacing glee. “You have to hand it to the Nazis working in the space program. They had a wonderfully dry sense of humor—or an idea to telegraph.”

  Brian remained silent.

  “So you see, Nazi mythology is therefore quite useful for demonizing an ET disclosure or promised visitation. We have every reason to be interested in what Ms. Leyden’s boyfriend discovered. We must control the narrative.”

  The Colonel paused, watching Brian’s passive expression turn to one of undisguised hostility. He smiled again.

  “Love your enemy,” he taunted with a whisper. “What would Jesus do if He were here?”

  “I’d like to think He’d send you straight to hell.”

  The Colonel chuckled lightly through pursed lips. “You can enjoy that thought later. I need you to set aside your hatred for me and think
clearly for the remainder of our evening. I’ve now given you the first two phases of our plan. Do you see them?”

  “You’re going to use synthetic biology in some way to convince people that ET life is real.”

  “Yes, that’s step one. The discovery of even one utterly unique microbe foreign to earth will propel the idea that life must have evolved to intelligence elsewhere. Synthetic biology not only allows us to produce entirely new DNA, it allows us to steer the narrative altogether. Convincing people that they aren’t alone in the universe and that their cosmic neighbors are the key to human survival and evolution will be easy. I won’t tell you precisely how we’ll do it, though—that would ruin the suspense. Perhaps we’ll simply borrow the Group’s approach: fabricate ET life with very evident benefits to humankind and then simply tell the world it was a peace offering, a message that an alien race wants open contact with humanity someday, if only we’ll change our behavior. People will believe it and wait with eager anticipation. Our lab work will be done. It’s all about creating the belief.”

  “And by isolating the myth to yourselves, you localize it—you won’t need to create contact on a global scale like Blue Beam required. You could use a couple UFOs as props to make a visitation event real, whether people see an alien or not.”

  “Correct. It’s a much more economic and manageable plan.”

  “I take it step two is about the Nephilim mythology,” Brian went on. “I’m still not sure how you’ll use that.”

  “We’re going to use that to demonize the alien race we’ve introduced to the world. You understand why now—at least partially.”

  “You want to marginalize the Bible-believer.”

  “Our goal is to winnow them from the masses. We have no need for most people to awaken from the benevolent alien slumber we’ve put them in. We only need to filter the serious Jew and Christian—not for physical harm, mind you. Many gullible Christian ufologists have already spread the gospel of Serrano for us. They’ve served our purposes as psychological—and mythological—evangelists. We’re so grateful,” he added in a patronizing tone, then stopped, enjoying the perplexity in Brian’s eyes.

  “For the believer,” the Colonel said evenly, “the destruction of the body is no threat, only the destruction of the soul. The convergence of all these ideas is necessary to herd our targets toward the conclusion we want them to embrace in our final phase.”

  Brian moved to respond, but stopped, unsure.

  “How well do you really know the Scriptures, Dr. Scott?” the Colonel asked, leaning forward again, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “The heavens and the Scriptures declare—as it is written—the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”

  “Isaiah 40,” Brian said in recognition, “which leads me to note that while your technology makes you and your co-conspirators as gods, it doesn’t make you Lord. I think you’ve left that detail out of your plans.”

  “Appealing to Jesus … How predictable. We haven’t overlooked Him at all. He’ll be on our side.”

  “Sure He will,” Brian laughed, nervously.

  “I suggest you think more carefully about Isaiah 40. Why might I be referencing it the way I am? Why would I be answering you in this fashion? What does ‘together’ mean in the verse? And what does the rest of verse 5 say? For the Lord has decreed it. Certainly the faithful won’t want to resist the Lord.”

  Brian shook his head. “You’re unhinged. You can’t expect me to take that seriously.”

  “But you will take it seriously. I despise what you stand for, Dr. Scott, but you are no fool. I don’t suffer fools. I eliminate them.”

  Brian became silent. He watched the Colonel as he motioned to a passing waitress for another beer, trying to judge the intent of the remark. The Colonel returned his attention to Brian.

  “Every clue I’m giving you has a role to play in the larger picture. We will use the expectations and predispositions of what the masses believe, especially Christians, to propel our agenda. They’re blinded by their provincial views of end times and demons. They’ll just make their own audiences more vulnerable to what we’ll present to them.”

  The Colonel paused again. Brian could see he was pleased with himself.

  “With respect to clues,” the Colonel went on, leaning forward, “have you deciphered Ms. Leyden’s message yet?”

  “We know part of it was Hans Kammler’s SS number.”

  “Very good. I’m sure the rest will come into focus eventually—you’re all so clever.”

  “Kammler no doubt points to both UFOs and Nazis. I don’t suppose you have anything to add.”

  “Of course. As I hinted a moment ago, the UFO mythology is a component of one aspect of our agenda, as are the Nazis. Kammler’s work is a useful component of the overall narrative.”

  “That’s not news to me,” Brian replied.

  “Since Dr. Kelley will no longer be gainfully employed, she has the time to look into some items of interest … something called the Huemul Project and San Carlos de Bariloche. And you must make sure she isn’t distracted by the official commentary.”

  “What’s your role in all this?” Brian asked.

  “As I said earlier, our agenda is our own. Exploiting the connections between Nazis, occult Aryan myths, and aliens—or should I say, ‘cosmic intelligences’—is how we’ve decided to play this game. As scholars, you and Dr. Kelley know those connections are secure and deep. Soon we’ll be readying the masses incrementally to embrace the impending points of our narrative. The two of you are going to be very busy in the future tracking the mind shift.… And perhaps it’s already begun.”

  Brian stared blankly at the Colonel, his lips pressed together in thought. The question of why kept exploding in his mind. The Colonel’s strategy was clear, but the endgame made no sense. The Colonel paused and looked at his watch.

  “Your friends should be approaching the checkpoint,” he informed him, and then removed a small radio with a blunt antenna from his belt. Brian waited expectantly.

  “Ferguson here,” the Colonel said into the radio. “Our guests should be on site. You have visual? Good. It will be either a black or silver SUV. Confirm and tell me which one.… Excellent.… Proceed as instructed and unload the priest.” He glanced at Brian, who could see the façade of cordial contempt was gone, replaced by icy disdain. “Then you may leave. I’ll contact you later for pickup.”

  51

  Violence is not a catalyst, but a diversion.

  —Joseph Conrad

  “This is it,” Madison said. The GPS device in her hand bathed her face with a soft glow in the dark of the SUV.

  “Other than a beach, where are we?” Malcolm asked as he brought the vehicle to a halt and turned off the headlights, letting it idle.

  “A place called East Beach,” she replied and turned the screen toward him. “You can see it’s just a long strip of beach, about three miles.”

  “A barrier beach,” he mused. “So we’ve got the ocean on our right—Block Island Sound—and inlet on the left.”

  “I’m not sure, but the way we entered looks like the only exit.”

  “Narrow road, grit and sand—doesn’t exactly lend itself to speed and maneuverability.”

  “I don’t like it,” they said simultaneously.

  “At least when the Colonel’s people show up, they’ll have to come in the same way,” Malcolm offered, looking for some point of advantage.

  “Unless they’re already here and we don’t see them,” muttered Dee from the back seat.

  “I’m gonna turn the car. We can at least be pointed in the right direction,” Malcolm said, deflecting the thought.

  “Are you getting this, Ward?” Clarise asked into her radio as Malcolm restarted the car.

  “Yep. Got your location on my GPS now. It’s actually directly across from where I am on Block Island—looks like ten miles across the water of the Sound. I can be there pretty quickly if needed.”

&n
bsp; “We’ll stay on line.”

  After the car was repositioned, they all sat quietly, looking out of the windows on both sides.

  “I think I saw a light,” Madison said unexpectedly, pointing. She put a pair of night-vision goggles to her eyes. “Out there, on the beach. There were a couple quick flashes.… I don’t think it’s a beacon, since it stopped.”

  They waited about a minute before they all saw what had drawn her attention.

  “That’s it again. Maybe it’s nothing.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Malcolm pulled out his handgun and undid the safety.

  “Stay here with Dr. Harper,” Clarise told Madison. “Take the wheel and keep it running. And keep an eye on us.”

  Madison nodded.

  Clarise and Malcolm got out of the vehicle. Clarise took the small backpack that Madison was passing her through the window, which was loaded with medical supplies in case Father Fitzgerald needed immediate attention. The two of them circled around the back of the vehicle and opened the rear door. Clarise unzipped a large duffle bag and retrieved two TARs. She handed one to Malcolm, who slung the assault weapon over his shoulder. Clarise did the same. Malcolm reached under the seat and produced two flashlights, handing one to her.

  They closed the door and cautiously headed off the road in the direction of the light they had seen. The sandy ground was lightly covered with a thin layer of snow. Here and there they could see frozen strands of seaweed underfoot and protruding tufts of stiff beach grass as the light from their flashlights danced across the surface. There was nothing in sight that would offer protective cover.

  The two of them shut off their flashlights and crouched down on the cold sand as they reached the beach line. Though their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, there was little they could see with clarity at a distance. There were no lights on the beach, and clouds masked what little light the moon offered. As far as they could tell, they were alone. Clarise looked back at the car, which was discernible only by its faint shape on the otherwise light gray line that they knew was the road.