“Most definitely. I can send you pictures of a nanobots if you like—quantum dots, fullerenes, origami nanotubes…”
“Yes, please.”
He sent me photos via email.
Images included hexagons, strange objects with antennas or feet like insects. The hairs on my arms stood up, and my skin began to itch. Were these entities under my skin? Floating in my veins? Attaching to my optical nerves?
“Hexagons?”
“Hexagonal lattice structure. The hexagon appears everywhere in nature. It’s a very strong structure. High-resolution transmission electron microscopy is essential for photographing these nanoparticles made of silver ions less than 50 nanometers. We have to use X-ray diffraction to see and measure them.”
“Could you control someone remotely with nanotechnology?”
“They have successfully controlled lab rats, so possible, yes.”
“Could nanobots cause ringing in the ears?”
“If they are hit with a very high energy source and at the correct frequency, certainly. Why do you ask, Ben?”
“How do nanobots get into the body?”
“Injection, possibly breathed in. Nanobots can easily cross the blood-brain barrier.”
Breathed in, possibly ingested. I thought about the day I was with the Congressman. We had chicken, wine, and apple pie. Nadine was always serving apple pie and had me drinking tea. Daniel was always eating her pie. Or maybe it was in the oil diffuser. She’d given me one, and there was one in their bedroom. Petulli had one too.
“Could the nanotech be in food?”
“Yes. It is completely invisible to the human eye. One billionth of a meter.”
“How can we know they’re in us? Blood test, x-ray, or something?”
“A blood sample would work if the nanobots are in your blood stream, but you need a lab that knows what to look for and has the right equipment to detect them.”
“If someone had these nanobots in them, how could they get rid of them?”
“Detoxing, cleanses, possibly magnetism—I’m interested in where your story is going, Ben.”
“I just want to know everything I can about the technology, Dr. Trivedi. Good journalists make an effort to really understand so as to know what questions readers might be asking. What about testing food and drink?”
“Like I said, a lab would need the right equipment. I suppose a food lab could test for compounds, forensic lab for poisons...”
I checked the time, knowing that Chester would be back any minute. “Thank you for speaking with me, Dr. Trivedi. Is it okay if I contact you again if I have follow-up questions?”
“No problem, Ben. When will your article come out?”
“Soon.” I said, “I’ll send you the link.”
I sat back to take in all that I’d learned. Why hadn’t I thought of this earlier? Was I part of an experiment? Could nanoparticles controlled by electromagnetic beams from mobile apps and cell towers be used to create delusions and hallucinations? Perhaps a program was specifically targeted at reporters and journalists. Mass hallucinations controlled by whomever controls the technology, like the shadow government? Suddenly, I was sure that there was a CIA or DoD front testing nanotechnology’s uses for mass hypnosis and hallucination. I was a guinea pig and others were, too, including Daniel.
I did a few more searches on the Internet, reading articles and scientific papers that confirmed what Dr. Trivedi said. I also looked into what might make some people more susceptible or resistant to mind control. Turns out there is an entire corpus of scientific literature about hypnotic susceptibility and its association to personality types and psychiatric conditions. Some studies estimated that about ten-percent of the population is highly susceptible to hypnosis, and about twenty-percent cannot be hypnotized, with everyone else falling in between. Where was I on this scale? I certainly don’t believe I’m a person who’s easily hypnotized and influenced. I also thought about Jack Clark’s interview question about being fantasy-prone. That didn’t seem like me either. But what about susceptibility to mind control caused by technology involving radio-controlled nanobots?
An EMF shielding hat wouldn’t be enough. I needed to purge the nanobots. It was time to get serious, but how? Who knew how to do this? A pharmacy with Ipecac and ex-lax? I’d order a nice EMF shielding ski hat for Brenda and a tactical one for my buddy Brett.
Mike rapped on my door.
“Ben, Daniel wants to see you. He needs you to help with another video.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now. He says it’s important. Nadine and Daniel have been texting you for thirty minutes.”
I threw on a jacket and jumped in the golf cart Mike had arrived in. Daniel was waiting for me in the video production room.
“Ben, this is a special video. It’s ten o’clock in Asia, they will see it first.”
“What’s it about?” I grabbed the video camera.
“The Proximians have contacted me again. Are you ready with the camera?”
“Yes.” I hit record.
Daniel looked into the camera. “My friends, for the last several weeks, I’ve been meditating, pleading with the Proximians to show mercy on us humans, and to let them know that we want to work with them for mutual benefit. Well, tonight I received a message from the Proximians. They are coming here to the ranch to meet with me. I realize that making this video and announcing this historic event will cause all kinds of attention, which we don’t need because we must not intimidate or threaten the Proximians in any way. If they sense any hostility, then any possibility for me to make a deal will be off. They have assured me they are coming out of good will. I will be inviting just a few trusted government officials and scientists, and select members from the press corps, to the Valley of the Moon Ranch for the arrival. I cannot tell you when they will come—that remains secret. But I have arranged for a lottery that you can enter at our website where I’ll be providing updates as things progress. I thank you for your trust in me. Good night.”
He nodded, and I stopped the video.
“You know what to do, Ben. Get this out, right away. The phones are going to be ringing off the hook tomorrow.” He sighed. “I’m exhausted, completely exhausted.”
“Are you sure about this? The Proximians are coming here? When?”
“Of course, I’m serious.” He looked at me. “You don’t think I’m serious?” He sighed. “Perhaps I can make a deal with them—find some mutual ground.”
“When?”
“I’ll brief you later. We have to maintain operational security on this. We don’t need a bunch of yahoos showing up with shotguns and potato guns.”
A bit too late for that, I thought. “What about the military and the government? Won’t they take this as a threat? Thousands of people are probably going to show up here. Isn’t that going to cause problems?”
“Likely. So we’ll block off the entrances. The Sheriff’s Department will help. The ranch is more than 175 acres. It will be secure. All the attention will be good. We need people of the planet to be paying attention to what is happening, and to not panic. We’re already seeing things get quite crazy out there.”
“You mentioned leaders and scientists. Who are you inviting?”
“I can’t tell you that yet either. In time, Ben. For now, we have to start preparations. Mike will be in charge of setting up the arrival area, and security, of course. And remember, you can’t tell anyone about this, not until I give clearance.”
He put his hand on my shoulder as we walked out of the production room. “I’m going to need you to help with the press, as usual. And don’t worry, you’re invited to the arrival event, you’ll be at my side, and meet the Proximians in person. I know it may bring up some trauma for you, as it will undoubtedly for me, but we have to be strong. We’re representing planet Earth here. Are you with me?”
“Of course I am,” I replied, unsure of what else to say to a man who, whether under mind control or not, believed he
was the only person on the planet who could make friends with beings 4.24 light-years from Earth.
He smiled. “Good, my son, now let’s get to work.”
34: Brenda
The Proxima Foundation social media feeds were on fire by morning. Daniel’s Twitter account skyrocketed past one hundred million followers for the first time, outpacing Lady Gaga and second only to Barack Obama.
My Twitter followers also hit record levels, but I wasn’t feeling good about it. A wave of negative emotion washed over me, muddling my mind with confusion and hopelessness. Was Daniel Byrne just another in a long line of prophets and seers, from Emanuel Swedenborg, to Aleister Crowley, to the nut job from Heaven’s Gate? Was he a tool of Deep State CIA mind control technologies ushering in the New World Order? I felt like a fool for believing in him. Why had I been so susceptible to his manipulation? What was wrong with me?
I pulled myself together and went to the pharmacy for ex-lax and Ipecac for my nanobot purge. Once I started, I went full bore, drinking buckets of water to flush everything out, from vomiting to unbearable shits. I wanted those little bastards out of me in any and every way I could.
The following morning, I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and after breakfast, told Daniel I needed to go to the pharmacy again. I dropped by Brenda’s and filled her in on Daniel’s Proximian delegation announcement.
“Sounds like another bullshit publicity stunt to me,” she said. “What do you think?”
“On the surface, yes, but I’m convinced there’s more to it.” I told her about what I’d learned from my journalist friend and the nanotech professor.
“Operation Mindscrew? MKULTRA? You mean it’s even crazier than I thought?” she said.
“I think your aunt got too close to something and she was killed.”
“The Byrnes, you mean?”
“I don’t know. If this is a CIA operation, then it could have been government operatives or a contractor. We need more information. If we can prove that a secret operation is going on here, we might be able to link it to your aunt’s killer or killers.”
“I have something I want to show you,” Brenda said, opening her laptop to the State of Illinois Bar Associations web page. “Nadine is licensed here in Montana but was licensed in Illinois fifteen years ago under her maiden name of Brewster. So I kept searching and found a Melda Brewster from Canton who was born September 14, 1967. Take a look.” She showed me a black and white photo of 18-year Melda Brewster with curly brown hair and mid-1980s hair spray bangs. “It’s Nadine. She changed her name when she was eighteen. She’s not who she says she is. And look at her eyes. Do they look odd to you?”
I inspected the photo closely. “You mean the colored contact lenses?” I read the caption. “Voted most bossy. That makes sense too.” I looked at Brenda. “Why is she’s hiding her past?”
Brenda clicked to State of Montana real-estate licensure website. “She also has a real-estate broker’s license in Montana and in Washington.” She looked at me. “Is she involved in any real estate you know of?”
“Just the Valley of the Moon ranch that I’m aware of.” I sat back to think for a moment. Why hadn’t I done a thorough background search myself months ago? It would have led me down a completely different path on my first article about the Byrnes.
I leaned into her laptop and searched for Daniel’s yearbook site. In the Spring Valley High School, Peoria Illinois, Class of 1985 page there was a photo of a slender Daniel Byrne with shoulder-length ginger hair and glasses. The caption read, Biggest space case. “Kind of a geek, huh?” I said to Brenda.
She smiled. “You think?”
At the Harvard yearbook site, we found both Nadine and Daniel. “Well, they were telling the truth about Harvard,” I said, “but Daniel said they met at a law firm in Chicago. I wonder about Congressman Young. He was a Harvard grad and is around the same age as the Byrnes.” And there he was, in the same class. Nadine and Congressman Young had been in the Harvard freshman debate club.
“Well, I’ll be, damned!” I said, “they all knew each other! They lied!”
“Did the Byrnes ever mention knowing the Congressman?”
“Daniel said he was involved in DARPA dark projects and fake UFO abductions. That’s all. So there’s a connection between a government black operation and the Byrnes, but it’s not enough evidence to prove it. We need more.”
“Like documents or an admission.”
I thought for a second longer. “Nadine keeps files on her financial dealings in her office. Maybe there’s something there.”
“Why would she keep files like that onsite?”
“She’s a control freak. Locked file cabinets. Maybe I can gain access. Mike has all the keys to the ranch facilities. I should be able to get them from him when he’s at the gym. I should have enough time to look for the files and return the keys.”
“What if you get caught?”
“We need the evidence, right?”
“But even with evidence, what then? It’s not like you could take it to the FBI.”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll write an op-ed and send it to the New York Times or the New York Post. Someone’s got to pay attention.”
“Maybe,” Brenda said, “but you can’t really trust them, either, can you?”
“I’ll blockchain the documents to spread them all over the Internet so there’s no way to censor them once they are out there.”
“Maybe start your own podcast, too. Everyone has their own news channel these days on YouTube. You are already a celebrity, of sorts, and with your journalism skills, I’m sure it would be a hit.”
A podcast. I hadn’t thought of that. “That’s a brilliant idea, Brenda, like Joe Rogan—You know, whenever I’m here with you, I feel so good.”
She smiled. “Maybe it’s because there’s no cellular signal out here.”
I looked her in the eyes. “Do I seem of sound mind to you? Like I’m not some kind of conspiracy nut.”
She smirked. “Yes. Everything we’ve talked about makes sense. My aunt Salley wasn’t a crazy conspiracy type either. She was onto to something.”
I shook my head. “I feel like such a fool for not digging into the Byrnes months ago. I should have known.”
She looked at me with those big brown eyes. “You were manipulated. It’s not your fault.”
“Do you think if I was still under mind control influence right now, I’d know it?”
“If it was working, you’d be completely oblivious or in denial, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded. “I’m aware that I’m questioning whether I’m under mind control, therefore I must not be.”
She smiled. “I don’t think you are either, if that makes you feel any better.”
I turned toward her and our knees touched. I decided to go for it. I leaned in and kissed her lips. They were softer and sweeter than I’d even imagined. She was responsive, so I leaned in and kissed her again. We kept kissing, and soon I was touching her breasts and she was rubbing my leg, driving me to a frenzy.
“I can’t believe I’m making out with a cultie,” she said softly.
“I’m not a cultie,” I said equally softly, “but I’m going to have to go back tonight.”
“I know,” she said, our lips nibbling at each other. She smiled, and before I knew it, she led me to her bedroom, pulled the drapes and released her raven black hair. We undressed and fell onto the bed. It was the best sex I’d had in a very long time, and from the sound of her moans, it was for her, too. What a high.
I thought about us as we lay in each other’s arms afterwards. She was beautiful, sexy, witty, sharp as a tack, and she seemed genuinely supportive of my career as a journalist—what more could I want? Could we have a future together? Sure, she still had graduate school and I didn’t see myself living in Missoula long-term, but perhaps it could work.
On the way back to the ranch, still feeling high, I contemplated the podcast idea. It would be a show about understan
ding truth and how our own biases keep us from it. Maybe two episodes a week, the first few focusing on truth, journalism, and conspiracies. I’d be candid and completely honest about my own errors in judgment. Maybe I’d have guests on and make enough money to cover health insurance and my cost of living. I’d call it Sciencecaster. It would be a hit; I was sure of it.
I was also sure I was no longer under the influence of a mind control technology. I’d done everything I could to make myself immune—I was adhering to the purging regimen and cleansings. I was meticulous in what I ate. I hadn’t had any alcohol in weeks. I’d avoided EMF as much as possible, wearing the shielding hat, and keeping my smartphone shielded or off. I avoided those Blue Tooth ear buds that Nadine gave me. And most importantly, I had full force of mind. Not only did I have an objective reference of the soundness of my mind from Brenda, I knew I was in control of my thoughts. The ringing in my ears had subsided, along with the hallucinations and the uncanny voice in my head. My mind was clear and sound. I was centered—not going to any extremes. I was finally able get to the bottom of all of this with my bullshit detector tuned and fully operational.
35: Sit Down with Nadine
What happened the following day took me by surprise. Nadine came by the office just as I was completing the social media routine for the day. She pulled up a chair. “I was thinking, Ben. I know I was hard on you before about seeing that girl Brenda. You are a young, strapping bachelor, and you need to make up your own mind on who to associate with. And I’m sure you really put the razz on her berries, being a big-city journalist and all. We have such important work to do here at the Foundation, especially now, and I was just looking out for you. So I was thinking, I’d like to meet her in the flesh. Why don’t you invite her over for tea on Sunday? We’ll have a nice sit down. Besides, I think that’s what she wants. What do you say?”
“Really? Now?” What was Nadine’s real motive? What would Brenda say? What could go wrong?
“Why not? At two?”
The Goldilocks Zone Page 23