GENESIS (Projekt Saucer)

by W. A. Harbinson

  ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I’m confused. I’m very tired. Who are you and what do you want with me? What are you doing here?’

  ‘You don’t believe me,’ Wilson said.

  ‘Of course not,’ Epstein said.

  ‘I won’t tell you where I’ve come from,’ Wilson said, ‘but I’m taking you back there.’

  The fear slithered down Epstein’s spine. He could hardly believe that this was happening. He thought of Stanford and Scaduto, of his own trip to Paris, of the questions that sprang up and collided as the facts were revealed. He would have to keep his mouth shut. He would have to watch his man carefully. This man knew an awful lot about him and that couldn’t be good. He thought of the tapes in his safe. This man knew about the tapes. This man must be from the government or the FBI or the CIA; he already knew about the tapes and wanted to steal them and shut Epstein’s mouth. Epstein was truly frightened now. He didn’t know what to believe. He stared at the man sitting in the chair and felt threatened by him.

  ‘You’re from the government,’ Epstein said.

  ‘No,’ Wilson said. ‘The government saucers are relatively primitive. My saucers are the ones you’re been looking for.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Epstein said.

  ‘I was in the Caribbean.’

  ‘The Caribbean?’

  ‘St Thomas,’ Wilson said. ‘It was my saucer that abducted Professor Gerhardt. You saw it. You and Stanford were on the beach.’

  Epstein’s fear deepened considerably, made him suck his breath in, now starting to believe the man in the chair, having no other choice. He let his breath out when speaking.

  ‘You took Gerhardt?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Wilson said.

  ‘Where do you come from?’ Epstein asked. ‘How do you know about me? I can’t really accept what I’m hearing. This just doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I built the saucers,’ Wilson said. ‘You’ve just found out how they started. You have that information down on tape. I want you and the tapes.’

  Epstein licked his dry lips. He felt very badly shaken. Wilson’s eyes were sky- blue, almost steely with intelligence; he leaned forward and looked directly at Epstein, speaking softly and clearly.

  ‘We know all about you,’ he said. ‘We’ve been watching you for years. You’re a very tenacious man, you don’t stop, and now you’re dying of cancer. That makes you even more dangerous. You’ll be even more determined. We think you’ve found out too much already, so it has to end now.’

  ‘I’ve found nothing out,’ Epstein said.

  ‘You’re lying,’ Wilson said. ‘You’ve just returned from Paris where you were seeing Professor Ronald Mansfield, an Englishman who worked for the scientific division of the British Objectives SubCommittee during World War Two and who is currently working for the Groupment d’Etudes des Phénomènes Aériens. That disturbed us, Dr Epstein. That’s as far as you can go. We want you and the tapes you brought back, which is why I am here.’

  Feeling fearful, Epstein also felt paralyzed, removed from himself, not convinced this was really taking place.

  ‘You want me?’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Wilson said. ‘You will not see the dawn over Mount Rainier. You’re coming with us.’

  Epstein didn’t know what to say. He wished that Stanford would return. This conversation was bizarre, not quite real, and he felt very strange.

  ‘I don’t have the tapes,’ he said.

  ‘Where are they?’ Wilson asked.

  ‘I didn’t tape the conversations,’ Epstein lied. ‘We just talked. He knew nothing.’

  ‘You’re lying again, Dr Epstein. I understand, but it’s pointless. We’ll just take you away tonight and then ask you – and believe me, you’ll tell us.’

  ‘What about Professor Mansfield?’

  ‘He hung himself yesterday.’

  ‘You mean you murdered him.’

  ‘That’s a very emotive word,’ Wilson said. ‘We simply did what we had to do.’

  ‘And what happened to Richard Watson?’

  ‘An interesting case. He had unusually strong resistance, great willpower, so we wanted him back with us.’

  ‘You’ve got him now?’

  ‘Yes. We were surprised at how much he told you. We implanted an electrode in his brain and he still showed resistance.’

  ‘He’s alive?’

  ‘He’s functioning. We’ll send him back soon. He’ll then do what we tell him to do – and he won’t be alone.’

  ‘Who’s we?’ Epstein asked.

  ‘I can’t tell you that right now.’

  ‘And is that what you do? You abduct them and robotize them. Then you send them back into the world and make them follow your orders?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Wilson said. ‘It’s not as incredible as it sounds. Bear in mind that such work has been going on for years – in America, in Russia, in Europe – and it’s highly advanced. Your people don’t understand this, they don’t know what’s really happening; they only hear about acceptable experiments – they don’t know the full extent of it. Electrocontrol is a fast-growing industry, being expanded behind closed doors. In your own society it’s relatively well advanced; in ours, much more so. Our own subjects begin in infancy – we take them out of the cradle. We implant electrodes in their brains, and at certain points in the spinal column, before they’ve even reached their fourth week. After that, they belong to us. They’re developed in extraordinary ways. They’re programmed for obedience, their capabilities are enhanced, and they never know the pain of discontentment.’

  Epstein closed his eyes. ‘The young boys,’ he murmured.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Wilson said. ‘Stanford saw them. That must have confused him.’

  Epstein opened his eyes again. ‘And Richard Watson?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s different with outsiders. Their advanced age makes all the difference. With outsiders we have to be more careful – and aren’t always successful. Richard Watson was such a case. Strong willpower, great resistance. We’ve inserted another electrode in his skull and now he seems to be functioning.’

  Epstein glanced around the room, feeling dreamy, almost haunted; he glanced out through the windows, at the darkness, heard the wind on the mountains. Stanford was out there. He was looking for UFOs. The irony of it made Epstein smiled, but then the fear trickled back again. He looked at the man called Wilson. The blue eyes were very bright. Epstein studied the smooth skin on his forehead and felt extremely uncomfortable.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ he said.

  ‘What don’t you believe?’

  ‘I don’t believe a damned thing you say. I think it’s some kind of trick.’

  Wilson offered his chilling smile. ‘You’ll believe soon enough,’ he said. ‘You’ve been wrestling with the mystery for twenty-odd years… Your reward comes tonight.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Epstein asked.

  ‘We’re taking you away,’ Wilson said. ‘It doesn’t matter where you go, where you hide… We’ll just come down and pick you up.’

  ‘You’re not taking me now?’

  ‘It’s not convenient,’ Wilson said.

  ‘And what happens if I don’t leave this room?’

  ‘We’ll just open the door. This door or any other door that you’re hoping to hide behind.’ Wilson smiled and stood up, went to the window and stared out, turned back and looked down at Epstein, his blue eyes bright and cold. ‘You were in the Caribbean,’ he said. ‘You know what happened there. If we want someone, we just come and take them – and nothing can stop us.’

  Epstein thought back on the Caribbean and remembered the howling wind, the hotel room going crazy, the dazzling light and intense heat; he recalled Stanford’s experience at the ranch in Texas about five months ago. White light and heat, fierce storms and shaking buildings; the manifestations were always the same, the causes unknown.

  ‘Did you cause the storms?’ he asked.
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  ‘Yes,’ Wilson said. ‘Advanced weather engineering. Something similar to your own cloud-busters, but more sophisticated. Our own cloud-busters are laser-based and highly effective. The larger saucers can whip the wind up – or disperse it, if necessary.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Epstein said.

  ‘Why not?’ Wilson said. ‘Cloud seeding is an established science. Orgone energy weather engineering is becoming more advanced every day, with floods and droughts engineered for political or military purposes. Of course we can cause a storm – so can the Russians and the Americans. Weather engineering is no longer a mystery – it’s an effective new weapon.’

  ‘And the cattle?’ Epstein asked.

  ‘For our laboratories,’ Wilson said. ‘For various drugs and vitamins and advanced medical research. Again, there’s nothing outlandish about it… a simple question of theft.’

  ‘And the people? The kidnapped people?’

  ‘Like the cattle,’ Wilson said. ‘Some are used as slave labor, some are robotized and returned, some are sent to the medical laboratories as guinea pigs for our research.’

  ‘That’s horrible,’ Epstein said.

  ‘The word “horrible” is redundant. The spider eats the fly and in turn is devoured; all that lives in the present supports the future and has no other purpose. Nothing is horrible, Dr Epstein. As a scientist you should know that. Blood and suffering is the constant of the laboratory

  – and is vital to progress.’

  ‘We’re talking about human beings.’

  ‘Indeed we are,’ Wilson said. ‘And human beings are no more than the rungs on evolution’s great ladder. Science is all, Dr Epstein. The mysteries of life must be uncovered. Science can’t progress as it should if it’s held back by sentiment. Humans live and die anyway; they do so to no purpose. Only science can stop this primitive wastage and make people useful. Free choice leads to conflict and wastage, and is harmful to progress. Emotion is wasted energy. Moral judgements hold back science. There are too many people, there is too much human wastage, and we have to accept that human life is just cement for the future. To merely exist is not enough: what we need is a new form of being. We must learn how to take the human being apart and reconstruct him as something else. A superior being. A creature devoid of contradictions. And the gulf between Man and Superman can’t be bridged with emotions.’

  ‘That’s still horrible,’ Epstein said.

  ‘You’re still a primitive,’ Wilson said. ‘Where you’re going, you will not feel the same: you will come to accept it.’

  ‘Where am I going?’

  ‘You’ll find that out soon enough.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Epstein said. ‘I can’t believe it. It just doesn’t seem real.’

  ‘Time will tell,’ Wilson said.

  Epstein closed his eyes again. He felt weak and light-headed. In the darkness behind his closed eyes he saw the void of the cosmos. Not a void: something else. The voids of space were filled with energy. Beyond the galaxies, in what seemed like a void, possibilities were boundless. Where would Man go? What would he become? Epstein opened his eyes and tried to accept what it was he was hearing. He had searched for twenty-odd years, had lived constantly with the mystery, and now, face to face with the answers, his fear overwhelmed him.

  ‘The flying saucers are real,’ he said.

  ‘You know that,’ Wilson said. ‘What you heard in Paris must have convinced you, so the question’s superfluous.’

  ‘What are they?’ Epstein asked.

  ‘You already have the basic facts. We’ve progressed enormously since then, but the basics remain. At present, apart from the systems that Mansfield doubtless told you about, we utilize advanced ion propulsion, electromagnetic propulsion, in certain cases nuclear fusion pulse rockets, and, for the giant saucers, the carrying ships, an antigravity field. Ionization and electromagnetic discharges account for the plasmalike glow that so fascinates your witnesses, the antigravity accounts for the lack of turbulence and sonic booms; and you and Stanford have already discussed – with reasonable accuracy – the cause of the abrupt invisibility.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ Epstein asked.

  ‘We bugged your rooms,’ Wilson said. ‘Nothing is new under the sun – we’ve simply made advances.’

  ‘And the antigravity shield accounts for your crews’ apparent ability to withstand the extraordinary speed and direction changes of your saucers?’

  ‘Precisely. The gravity-shield force applies simultaneously to the crew and the saucer… And, since it provides a cushion of air around the saucer, it also prevents the saucer from heating up. Incidentally, I should point out, since you’re looking so disbelieving, that antigravity is not as revolutionary as it seems. Indeed, as far back as 1965 there were at least forty-odd unclassified G-projects being undertaken in America alone – by the Air Force, the Navy, the Army, NASA, the Atomic Energy Commission and the National Science Foundation. Since these were the unclassified projects, I need only point out that considerably more advanced projects are doubtless underway right now in strict secrecy.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that you’re connected to the US government?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that.’

  Epstein couldn’t think straight. He stared at Wilson, at the icy blue of his eyes, then he remembered Dr Campbell, what he had related about hypnosis, and, remembering this, thought that he should try to get off the bed… But Wilson spoke and that stopped him.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Wilson said.

  ‘Yes,’ Epstein said, no longer worried, simply wanting to know more. ‘We keep receiving reports of different-sized UFOs, and that always confuses us…’

  ‘The smallest saucers are similar to your own CAMS – Cybernetic Anthropomorphous Machine Systems, either remote-controlled or programmed to react to certain stimuli, used mainly as sensing devices or probes. Taking the Richard Watson case, the beam of light that shone into the car was merely a laser beam on a wavelength that freezes skeletal muscles or certain nerves – thus producing either temporary paralysis or a trancelike condition.’

  ‘And the other saucers?’

  ‘The first group are anything from five to fifteen feet in diameter. Again, these are highly complex CAMS, either flying with their long axis vertical or flying in the direction of their axis, used mainly for reconnaissance and basic manual tasks, such as the collecting of soil or water, and controlled by Remote Manipulator Systems not much different from normal ones. The second group, usually about twentyfive to thirty-five feet in diameter, are extensions of the first group, but revolving around their axis and controlled by extremely advanced cyborg crew members. The pilot that Richard Watson saw in the second saucer was just such a cyborg: half man, half machine – the results of over thirty years of prosthetic experiment. The cyborg’s respiration and other bodily functions are controlled cybernetically with artificial lungs and sensors that maintain constant temperature, metabolism and pressure, irrespective of external environmental fluctuations – thus they aren’t affected by the extraordinary accelerations and abrupt direction changes of their saucers. The third group of saucers can range from one hundred to three hundred feet in diameter, can be up to several stories tall internally, are used mainly to pick up people and animals and material goods, and have a crew of about a dozen men. The fourth category is the carrying ship – what you people call the “mother” ship – a somewhat gigantic affair, used for major operations of a long-term nature. The carrying ships are essentially self-generating airborne colonies, capable of drifting in outer space or of hibernating on the sea bed, manned by a large crew of humans and cyborgs, the heavy labor performed by programmed slaves, and containing workshops, laboratories, medical wards, cryonic preservation units, and hangars for all the other, smaller saucers.’

  Wilson smiled as he talked to Epstein, a distant, cool smile, his lips dutifully performing the necessary while his eyes remained hard. His eyes fascinated Epstein, r
epelled him and drew him in, unblinking, as clear as sunlit ice, making Epstein feel unreal. And yet the man sounded reasonable, talking quietly, precisely, explaining with the patience of a teacher, making everything simple.

  ‘You must be highly advanced,’ Epstein said.

  ‘Yes,’ Wilson said, ‘we are. Our society is based on masters and slaves – and exists just for science.’

  ‘Where is it?’ Epstein asked.

  ‘Just be patient,’ Wilson said.

  ‘Please tell me now. I want to know.’

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  They stared at one another, the silence broken by the wind outside, the light in the room extremely bright, the window framing the dark night.

  ‘You said that the carrying ships can hibernate on the sea bed,’ Epstein said eventually. ‘Is there a connection between that fact and the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle and other areas reported to be like it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wilson said. ‘We have permanent undersea laboratories in the Bermuda Triangle, the so-called Devil’s Sea between Guam, Luzon in the Philippines, and the southeast coast of Japan, and another off the coast of Argentina. These laboratories are manned by cyborgs and a few programmed scientists, and are visited frequently by the carrying ships.’

  ‘And it’s your carrying ships that cause the unusual magnetic disturbances in those areas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can’t accept that you could construct such undersea laboratories without being seen by someone… By the crews of passing ships or aircraft.’

  ‘Various governments know we’re down there, and in fact cooperate with us. As for the actual construction of the laboratories at such depths, you have to appreciate the unusual dimensions and capabilities of the carrying ships. For a start, their interior space is immense. The carrying ship simply settles near the sea bed and the laboratory is constructed inside it. The base of the carrying ship then opens up and deposits the laboratory, complete with crew, on the sea bed. The permanent fixing of the laboratory to the sea bed is accomplished with the aid of specially reinforced, remote-controlled CAMS, and then the carrying ship ascends to the surface, leaving the laboratory down there.’