by W B Dineen
“The cities are in place in case something happens above ground that makes it necessary to hide the important people and enough others to keep some semblance of a country running. That would include people to repopulate the planet in the case of all-out war.”
“War with whom?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“War with anyone, of this world or not. We’ve reached the point in technological advancement that any battle could wipe out the surface of the earth. Therefore, if the surface is no longer habitable, we’ll continue the species underground until it’s safe to come out.”
I shake my head in disbelief and sarcastically drawl, “Do you mind if I take notes here? I think you’ve got a blockbuster conspiracy movie on your hands.”
“Kate, you know too much to believe this is fiction. My God, you’ve seen Tony’s underground bunker, where they track the thirteen most powerful people in the world. This is the real deal, as hard as that is to grasp.”
Then a thought occurs to me. “If the government spends so much money to keep people from knowing they’re working with ETs, why do they allow so many movies to be made about aliens? You’d think they’d put a stop to that.”
“Back in the seventies they totally freaked out when they found out the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind was being made. They contacted Steven Spielberg and strongly suggested he abort the project. But he didn’t, and world powers had a bit of an epiphany.”
“And that was?”
“They knew at some point alien/human relations would escalate or deteriorate to the point where they could no longer keep the information from the world. There’s been talk since the Carter Administration that the reality of aliens would become public knowledge in the near future. There have been so many close calls; they’re running out of luck to keep this thing quiet for much longer.”
“So?” I prod him.
“So, they’ve decided to let Hollywood increase the public’s awareness of extraterrestrials in all forms, from the most benign, like E.T. the Extraterrestrial, to the remake of War of the Worlds, which resulted in the near annihilation of mankind. Certain ex-presidents, heavily affiliated with the Trilateral Commission and Bilderberg Group, from Bill Clinton, to George W. Bush, to Barack Obama, have been expressing their belief in alien life on the late-night talk show circuit lately. The powers that be know they have to prepare the world at some level, and they’ve been doing so by Hollywood laying the foundation of belief and through their poster boys of power, the connected ex-presidents.”
Somewhere during his explanation, my brain splits in two. The first part is me before I went to Oregon for my dad’s funeral—tough, determined, naively aware of the world around me. The second is someone who’s whole foundation in reality has been completely blown apart. I want to discount my father as a nutty professor who’s gone off his gourd in the most spectacular way. Yet, as much as I try to cling to the first incarnation of myself, I remember watching Barack Obama on Jimmy Kimmel and wondering why the hell he wasn’t discounting alien life, and why was he seemingly giving credence to the concept of ETs.
I try to absorb everything Jake’s said, and one thought hits the strongest. Most people really are quite simple. Take me, for example. I like nice shoes, funny movies, and good food. I want to travel more for pleasure and take that circus class where they teach you how to use the flying trapeze. I can’t figure out where all that fits into a world beset by aliens and secret operations, and let’s not forget, running for our lives. It’s like that Rudyard Kipling poem that goes, “Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet . . .”
To me, humans and aliens are a “never the twain shall meet” scenario, except apparently, it’s too late, because they already have.
CHAPTER 69
It takes us two hours and twenty minutes to get to the safe house. Personally, I get to Palm Springs a lot faster on my own because I have a lead foot. But Jake is being very conscientious not to draw any attention to us by getting a speeding ticket.
The house is in one of the plentiful gated-resort communities in the desert. They’re pretty much all the same. First you check in with a guard and then you pass the country club. The whole shebang is built around a central golf course with community pools every quarter mile or so. Truthfully, it’s the only way to make desert living bearable, which is why there are so many of these places.
Our unit isn’t on the golf course side, but across the street, and it doesn’t share a common drive with the house next door, like so many do. We’re the first ones to arrive, so we go in and make sure everything is clear before I jump on Jake and demand a repeat of last night’s performance. “I’ve wanted to do this since I opened my eyes this morning.”
He happily accepts my advances and suggests we make quick work of it before anyone else shows up. I accept his invitation and we find one of the bedrooms with a king-sized bed.
About a half hour later the front door opens. I’m guessing it’s my mom and Niko as I hear them hauling stuff into the kitchen. I assume they’ve hit the grocery store on their way. When we emerge and see how many bags they’ve purchased, I know how freaked out my mom must be.
We sit down and open cans of soda. Bethanie puts out a bowl of fruit and another one of corn chips. “Mom, sit down. There’s only so much food we can eat.”
She stops in her tracks and looks like she’s going to crumple right where she stands. Jake jumps up and takes her arm and leads her into the living room. My mom slumps into the couch cushions and declares, “I think I lost five years off my life this morning. I’ve never been so scared, and believe me, I’ve been scared before.”
We commiserate over our close call when the front door opens, and my dad and Buddy walk in. It’s a free-for-all of questions. “What happened? Why are we here? Have you talked to Tony? Why is his dad in Pasadena?” Theo shushes us and motions for us to calm down.
Once we’re quiet, he pulls out his cell phone and looks for messages. “I talked to Tony, and his dad made a surprise visit to Pasadena. Tony’s been playing both sides of this game for a long time; he’s worried that by showing up unannounced it might mean his dad is second-guessing his loyalty.” He inhales deeply. “All he can do is keep acting like every move he makes is for the Trēdecim. He won’t be joining us here at the safe house, so he doesn’t lead his father to us. Instead, he’ll meet us at the location near Twentynine Palms tomorrow morning.”
I ask, “The marine base?”
My dad replies, “In the area. Look, Kate, Bethanie, this is the part of our operation with Tony we’ve always wanted to shield you from. But I don’t feel safe leaving you here by yourselves. I’m not exactly sure what you’ll witness tomorrow, if anything. But we need you to be as cool and collected as possible.”
I flash some jazz hands. “Do you want to prepare us a little more than that? I mean, I’d like to have some idea what we might run into. Will we be shot at? Will we be shaking hands with your alien cohorts? What?”
“The part of the facility we use is for Operation See No More’s exclusive use. The people who work there know us.” Then he looks to Jake questioningly, and asks, “Did Jake tell you we work with aliens?”
Jake shakes his head. “No, I just explained how they’re present in the underground bases across California.”
My dad rolls his head from shoulder to shoulder. “That’s true. And while they do work out of the Twentynine Palms facility, they’re not on the floor where we have our lab.”
“What exactly do you do for Operation See No More, Dad? I mean, I know you said that you and Niko have been working on magnification and that you’re trying to get the antimatter weapon back, so you can destroy it. Is that all?
“No. Niko and I have also been working on the hypothesis that black holes are not necessarily independent from wormholes.”
At this point, I’d like to insert that I’ve always viewed myself as a very intelligent woman. Sadly, I’m not feeling that sma
rt right now, and it’s pissing me off.
The look on my face must say it all because my dad goes right to the fruit bowl and grabs a banana. “Black holes are understood to be created when dying stars fold in on themselves. This creates an astronomical gravitational pull that sucks everything caught in its ergosphere into the hole, never to emerge.”
Then he picks up his banana and holds it straight up. “A wormhole is common nomenclature for the Einstein-Rosen bridge, which is a hypothetical tunnel, a shortcut, connecting two points in space and time.” He spokesmodels the top of the banana as one place in time and the bottom another. “There are equations that support the theory of wormholes, but scientists have yet to discover one. Niko and I are trying to prove that on the reverse end of a black hole, there’s a white hole that works diametrically opposite of the black hole. The white hole doesn’t pull things in, it spits things out, like a cloud does with rain. Are you following?”
The weird thing is, I kind of am. It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about, and it’s more than a little overwhelming, but I understand what he’s saying.
He continues, “So, if matter doesn’t die in a black hole, but transforms and then gets spit out the other end, then it ceases to be a black hole and becomes a wormhole, right?”
Nikolay is nearly bouncing off his seat in excitement. “It could change everything about how we look at space!”
I exhale deeply and look over at my mom to see if she’s getting any of this, but she appears to have reached maximum capacity. “What does any of this have to do with the antimatter weapon?”
My dad’s eyes are twinkling so much it looks like there might be tears in them. “We’re hypothesizing that the matter that gets destroyed when it meets antimatter doesn’t really cease to exist, it just forms something of a white hole and gets sucked in before being spit out into another dimension.” He looks like he’s going to start dancing.
I nod my head attentively, before getting up to go into the kitchen. My brain is full, and I need to find a way to absorb some of what’s been said. Even though this is the first I’ve heard of white holes, the sheer possibility of what he’s hypothesizing is mind blowing.
CHAPTER 70
Jake follows me into the kitchen. With my mouth full of cheese, I demand, “Are you in on all this with them?”
“Math is the backbone of these hypotheses. If we prove this theory, that means everything destroyed by the antimatter gun didn’t cease to exist, it merely got transported to another dimension.”
“But how in the world would you ever find where it went? Does it all go to the same place or are the Twin Towers, the lost island, and the peak of one of the Andes all sprinkled throughout different dimensions?” Then I take another bite of pepper jack and confess, “I’m not even sure what dimensions are.”
Jake smiles kindly, not at all like I’m the stupidest person he’s ever met. “Albert Einstein once said, ‘Everything in life is vibration.’ Our dimension is made up of matter that vibrates at a certain frequency. Solids, liquids, gases, thoughts, everything is moving energy. If something appears solid, it’s because it’s vibrating very slowly. Thoughts vibrate quickly. Generally speaking, people can’t use their minds to move solid objects because of the disparity of vibrations. Yet, it can be done. But only very few people know how.”
I nod my head. “Of course it can. Do you know I heard that unicorns are real, and they poop rainbow sprinkled soft serve ice cream?”
Jake laughs. “I get that this isn’t stuff you’re used to thinking about. But if people don’t break out of thought that’s comfortable for them, they’re going to be blown out of it in the most shocking way. Kate, do you believe in heaven?”
“I’m going to say yes to that one. Not that I’ve ever seen it or proven it through a mathematical equation, but because I want to believe we go somewhere good when we die. So, yes to heaven!”
“Okay, think of heaven like this. It’s just a different dimension that vibrates at such an extreme degree that bodies, which move much slower, can’t pass into it. Therefore, the energy, or the soul that animates the human form is still alive, vibrating at a level that can’t be supported in our dimension.”
I roll my eyes nearly into the back of my head. “So, aliens exist, other dimensions are everywhere, and no one ever dies?”
“Essentially.”
I slam down my soda can causing it to spray onto the table. “Good luck selling that bag of goods to faithful church goers the world over!”
Jake shakes his head. “On some level they already believe it. What do you think eternal life is all about? You think that’s just some kind of crazy voodoo people talk about to make themselves feel better? Kate, this is eternal life!”
“Then why do we care if aliens fall out of the sky and blow us to smithereens? According to you, we’re going to keep living somewhere else.”
Jake takes my hands in his. “True, but like you suggested with the antimatter weapon, I don’t know if we’ll wind up in the same place and I’d kind of like to keep sharing a dimension with you for a while.”
I stare into his eyes and give his hands a squeeze. “That is truly the sweetest and geekiest thing any man has ever said to me.”
“Kate, if we can prove a black hole is attached to a white hole, creating a wormhole, then we’re that much closer to figuring out where we go when we die. We’re like the dying star. The blackhole is death, but the white hole is rebirth.”
I let out a bionic sigh. “Do you think your alien friends could help you answer your questions?”
“Maybe, but we aren’t working with any of them on this project, and it would be pretty hard to know who to trust. The aliens our government has partnered with tend to communicate freely through telepathy when they’re in the same room with humans. We hear what they want us to hear and they usually hear everything that goes on in our heads. Our scientists go through some mind-control training, so they can learn how not to divulge every thought they have, but since this isn’t organic to our makeup, it’s unpredictable.”
I interrupt, “So you’d need to have a strong bond of trust already built with the alien species you choose to discuss this hypothesis with, and as of now, to your knowledge, that group doesn’t exist.”
“That pretty much sums it up. In the meantime, we’re going to keep working to prove our theories. And while we may not have the answers in our lifetime, we’re setting a great foundation of information for future generations to build on.”
“Okay, Jake, you keep working on your theories. In the meantime, I’m going into the other room and try to formulate a plan to stay alive.”
CHAPTER 71
Here’s a little secret: I don’t find the desert beautiful and awe-inspiring. I find it creepy and desolate, which is why when I go there, I hang in a beautiful, artificially green, lush spa. I don’t ogle cacti and rock formations and contemplate my belly button and the universe. I don’t burn sage and dance around in a circle giving thanks to Mother God. I lie on a rock slab while a gorgeous man beats my chakras open with essential oils. It’s how I roll.
Not right now, though. Right now, I’m driving into the middle of nowhere with my parents, Jake, and Niko, on our way to the lab. We left Buddy behind for his safety, which makes me wonder why I’m not safe there and he is.
I keep hearing the theme song for the X-Files run through my head. I expect Fox Mulder to jump out from behind the “Danger No Trespassing” signs we’re blowing past. My mind briefly stops at my cosmic, “You Are Here,” sign and I want to scream, “But I don’t want to be!”
I don’t bother asking where we’re going because truthfully, I’m afraid of the answer. There is nothing as far as the eye can see that would indicate we’re near any building that could be a lab. So, I’m assuming it’s going to be subterranean as per all of Jake’s jabbering about underground cities yesterday, and I’m in no rush to get there.
My dad turns off the main road, which we’re alone on
—I’m guessing that has something to do with the multiple warning signs—and straight into the sand. There are no signs, cactus, or giant iguana to mark the spot; he just turns, seemingly randomly, into the desert. There must be cement or something underneath us because we don’t sink, so that’s good.
We’re about five minutes on the road to nowhere when Theo slows down and literally runs the car into a cactus. As soon as we make contact, the ground beneath us lowers like we’re on a hydraulic lift. This is it. I’m being swallowed up by the desert, possibly never to be seen again. There’s no going back.
I finally find my voice and ask, “How far down does this thing take us?”
My dad catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Three stories. That’s where the parking facility is.”
The parking facility for whom? We’re the only car I’ve seen in miles. Yet when we jolt to a stop, I see hundreds of vehicles. “How did all of these people get here? There was no one else on the road!”
Nikolay answers, “In this part of the facility, staff starts working at varied times throughout the night. They work three-day shifts and sleep in bunkers. It keeps the locals from asking too many questions.”
I wonder what locals he’s referring to because it’s been a good twenty miles since we’ve passed a house, and that was just some ramshackle shanty with a huge satellite dish and water tank out front. Theo parks the car in a numbered spot and indicates we should follow him. We walk nearly two hundred yards before we come to an elevator.
My dad scans something in front of it, then warns us, “The drop is pretty intense, so you might want to hold onto the railing.” I don’t have to be told twice. I grab on for dear life and close my eyes for the extra thrill of descending into the bowels of the earth, blind.