by George Noory
With young people molding together more and more as a unit, creating a homogenous unit that had the same values, the invaders could take advantage of the human “herding” instinct by manipulating fads and ideas. Facebook manipulated the emotions of nearly a million of its subscribers by sending some positive news feeds and others negative feeds. Greg had even heard of an Internet experiment that caused hundreds of thousands of people to turn out and vote who otherwise wouldn’t have.
The problem with people being led around in a herd was that sometimes they were driven like lemmings to disaster.
How long would it take for the invaders to pollute the minds of young people? Another generation? Two? Had there already been enough manipulation that they could take control by swaying elections?
Ethan went on to say that the subliminal message would be that people would benefit from their control. “The invaders realize that people must accept them and believe they will benefit from their control. The thing is they need some good PR to get rid of that image of aliens as flesh-ripping monsters.”
Ethan’s tone suddenly became graver. “Listen, Greg, the secret files are attached but even though I’ve cracked the encryption, it will take people light-years ahead of you in terms of computer knowledge to open them. But that’s okay, there are some people out there who can do it, you just need to get it out to enough of them so the invaders can’t silence them all. Safety in numbers, you know. Get it out and it’ll go viral and there’ll be no stopping it.”
Ethan was silent for a moment. “That’s it, dude. Attach my stuff to a mailing to everyone you know and then run like hell.”
Someone entered and Greg looked to the door. It was Murad, the professor who Rohan called a procurer for the invaders.
Murad pulled out his phone and made a call.
YOUNG PEOPLE ARE LOSING THE ABILITY TO READ EMOTIONS
People send many vital nonverbal cues about their emotions, motives and actions. From face-to-face contact we learn what body language like eye contact, foot and finger tapping, fidgeting, etc., are signaling.
A UCLA 2014 study noted that for thousands of years most of social communication and social learning took place face-to-face, but that young people under eighteen today spend an average of nearly eight hours a day using mobile media and the Internet.
Text messaging alone occupies more of teenagers’ time than does face-to-face communications.
The study found that as little as five days away from social media screens significantly improved the ability of the group studied to read nonverbal emotional cues such as facial expressions.
UCLA NEWS ROOM, August 21, 2014;
article by Stuart Wolpert
79
“What now, Mr. Nowell?” ponytail asked.
“We have to attach Ethan’s message with its link to the secret files to the charity database and send it to the people on it. I’ll also do a webcast and tell the world what’s coming down.”
“Everyone gets the file?” ponytail asked.
“I hope so even if just a few will be able to open it,” he said. He kept an eye on Murad as he spoke. Murad had turned his back and was still on the phone. “But enough of them will. Let’s do this. I don’t have much time.”
She attached the files to the database and hit “send.”
“This is going to take a while,” she said. “Those files may be really big. I tried to check the size but it wouldn’t tell me.”
“Let’s get the webcast going.”
When the webcast online light came on, Greg faced the computer’s webcam and talked fast. He half expected Murad to turn around and yell, “Grab him! He’s a murderer!”
“What’s coming through,” Greg said on the webcast, “is the solution to the mystery of how there could be so many UFO sightings by so many credible people and have it all covered up. The proof is in the file I’m transmitting. Few of you will be able to open the encrypted file, but get it to every computer-smart person you know.
“The file reveals that they’re here, alien invaders, and they are all around us, trying to take control. I can’t tell you if they control the whole government or just key areas of it, but for sure they have most of our spy and intelligence agencies in their grasp.”
Murad turned and looked at him. It suddenly struck Greg that they might be still able to block his transmission because of the time it would take an ordinary computer to send the information.
Greg said, “They’re trying to play God, to shape us in an image they want so that they can control us. They’re creating a mass mentality.”
“Oh no,” ponytail said. “We got knocked off.”
“How much of it got sent?”
She shrugged and threw up her hands. “Some. I don’t know how much. We don’t even know the size of the file.”
“More than you think probably went through,” the twerp said. “It’s not being sent by her computer, but by the computer at the charity, which has to have more power if it handles a big database.”
He hoped the guy was right.
He looked up and realized that the crowd had doubled and everyone in the place was looking at him. He stood up and spotted Murad leaving.
A guy asked, “Hey, dude, is any of that weird stuff true?”
Greg nodded. He was exhausted, wasted. He had forgotten how much he hurt, but he felt more like striking back if anyone got in his way than crawling into a corner and dying.
“Must be. You heard it on talk radio.”
80
Greg stepped out of the coffeehouse, the cool night air brushing his warm face. He didn’t realize he’d been sweating. He suddenly felt drained. Being on the run and nearly being murdered more than once in the same day had left him stupefied. Almost catatonic. He wouldn’t have run for his life even if an alien spacecraft suddenly descended on him. But he also felt relief. And triumph. He had no fear. He was tired but ready for a fight.
He didn’t see Murad. The alley was dark and he turned left, for Ventura Boulevard. The van was on the boulevard but he had no intention of getting into it and risking being arrested for driving a dead man’s wheels. He had twenty dollars. Not enough for a taxi to get to his place in Malibu but once he got there he had some emergency cash stashed. But where the hell do you find a taxi around here? Or a phone booth with a phone book to call one? He laughed without humor. Not having a cell phone made him feel a little naked and helpless.
He heard his name called and he turned to Murad, who came up behind him, out of the darkness.
Murad said, “You think it’s over, that you’ve accomplished a great deal tonight, but you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Oh, it’ll cause excitement among the conspiracy theory crowd, who’ll take your accusations and add on so many ridiculous other ramifications to what you said it will make no sense to anyone with a reasonable mind.”
“There’s the file.”
“The file? Prepared by aliens?” Murad scoffed. “A clever fraud put together by a young hacker with a criminal record and a history of acting erratic, so much that even the Nighthawk would not permit him on his radio show. It will get the same sort of treatment as the pictures of Frisbees got when people photographed them and claimed they were flying saucers.”
“Ridicule. Your favorite weapon.”
“Of course. Denials with an amused edge by the powers that be will be issued within hours. By morning you will be considered just another conspiracy kook who thinks the government is hiding aliens. Even if your bizarre tale got some news agency to request information from the NRO under the Freedom of Information Act they would never find infiltration by these aliens you claim are invaders.”
“Only because it’ll be erased.”
“You can be assured that it already has been erased so well that it was never there. The moment they realized Ethan had accessed it.” He gave Greg a sour look. “You seem to be taking your defeat calmly.”
Greg shook his head. “Defeat? No, yo
u don’t understand because you really don’t know people. Having a college degree that says you do doesn’t count. Ethan started something, set a wave of information into motion that will keep moving, slowly, just a little at a time, but will someday be a tsunami that will rip apart all the facades that creatures and traitors like you have been hiding under. You’re a traitor, a quisling, and you’ll end up like all turncoats do.”
“You’re going to be watched. You know that, don’t you?”
“You don’t get it, Murad; I don’t matter. I could have an accident, plane crash, maybe get hit by a drunk driver, whatever your friends come up with, but if I’m not around to fight you, someone else will be. You’re not going to win.”
Greg turned his back on Murad and walked toward the boulevard and the streetlight at the corner. A car pulled up on the boulevard. Ali was in the backseat, Aaron 11-whatever was in the passenger front.
Greg met her eye for a moment and wavered with regret for all the things that could have been. He turned from her and walked into the light.
FORGE BOOKS BY GEORGE NOORY
George Noory’s Late-Night Snacks
(with William J. Birnes)
Talking to the Dead
(with Rosemary Ellen Guiley)
Journey to the Light
(with William J. Birnes)
Worker in the Light
(with William J. Birnes)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GEORGE NOORY is the host of the nationally syndicated program Coast to Coast AM, which is broadcast on more than 600 radio stations and streamed over the Internet to millions of people every night of the week. Noory spent nine years in the United States Naval Reserve as an officer and was awarded the distinguished Navy Achievement Award. Night Talk is his sixth book. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Forge Books by George Noory
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
NIGHT TALK
Copyright © 2016 by George Noory
All rights reserved.
Cover photograph by Giacomo Cosua /Getty Images
A Forge Book
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ISBN 978-0-7653-7878-1 (hardcover)
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First Edition: July 2016