The Goldilocks Zone

by David D. Luxton

  Seeing I wasn’t getting anywhere with her, I went to the day room where trays of food were arriving on carts. A few adults were sitting or pacing about. A large TV on the wall was tuned to CNN. A man with dark hair and an unshaven face, came up to me. He was Robert Shaw, the station manager at Channel 4.

  “You’re Ben Davenport from Hot Reports, Pulitzer-nominated investigative journalist.”

  “Yes, and you’re Robert Shaw from Channel 4 in Missoula. Why are you here?”

  He smiled. “Lots of journalists are here.” He pointed across the room to an older man with greyed disheveled hair and a woman staring out a window. “James, over there, and so is Michele. She’s from Channel Six in Billings.”

  I looked around the room. More than a third of the people there were reporters or journalists of some kind. “What’s going on?”

  He grinned. “We’ve apparently all lost our minds. Trying to report the truth can drive you crazy. Know what I mean? Thank God for Clozapine!”

  “Do you know where we are? What hospital this is?”

  “It’s on a military base. I don’t know. Maybe all the others were full.” He leaned closer and whispered. “They are going to let me out tomorrow. Don’t worry, you’ll see the truth, too.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, looking into his crazed eyes and seeing that he was no longer the same person I’d met before.

  He chuckled. Something on the TV grabbed his attention. There was a special press briefing from the White House. I walked closer to the TV to listen. The President of the United States was speaking. “Fellow Americans, today we have entered into a new era of our understanding of the universe, and our place in it. For the last several days, the US Space Force, NASA, and others have been tracking alien signals in the vicinity of Earth. It turns out the signals were from intelligent life originating in a world far from Earth. We’ve received the message that they want to communicate with our government.”

  My jaw dropped. This was it: the official disclosure of alien contact and existence of extraterrestrial life that everyone had been waiting for. Was it true, or was this the false flag? The message on the bottom of the screen said that the stock markets had closed after losing nearly a quarter of the DOW’s value.

  The POTUS continued. “Americans have many questions tonight. Americans are asking: Who are these extraterrestrials? Where are they from? What do they want? Most importantly, are they a threat?

  They come from Proxima Centuari B, a star system in the habitable Goldilocks Zone more than four light-years from Earth. Countless books and films have portrayed visitations to our planet by extraterrestrial beings from other worlds. But this is no fiction. We know from their communications and covert actions within our atmosphere that they may pose a serious threat. Make no mistake, the threat is real, but the extent of the danger is not fully known. I ask you to be calm and resolute, even in the face of this new and uncertain threat. We have already taken several immediate and necessary steps to prepare for what is before us. I signed several emergency executive orders just moments ago that are intended to provide the appropriate and necessary security.”

  I looked about the room. Half the patients were watching the screen, the other half were wandering dazed and out of it. I turned my attention back to the President.

  “The first executive order is for a emergency funding to underwrite defense research and development to protect our world. I’ve also asked the Treasury Department to keep the markets closed over the next week. We’ll also be implementing mandatory curfews in all communities across the United States. We’ve federalized and recalled the National Guard to assist with domestic order during this time.”

  Martial law—just what Daniel had said they would do.

  “As a precaution, and until we know more, we are mandating that everyone wear masks and stand six feet apart to prevent any possible extraterrestrial viral transmissions.”

  Six feet apart. Dr. Trivedi had said the six-foot distance would be needed to calibrate the nanobots on a mass scale.

  “We also know that the aliens are capable of telepathic communication. This means the ability to read and transmit information directly to the minds of others. While we have much to learn about this capability, I’m asking all Americans to make a conscious effort to not think about anything negative toward the Proximians or the government. In fact, make an effort to not think too much at all. It’s okay not to think deeply. It’s the right thing to do for your fellow citizen.”

  Did the leader of the free world just tell everyone to not think? What the hell is going on here? It’s got to be mind control nanobots!

  “You may wonder why we didn’t warn the people of the Earth sooner. How could we have overlooked such a threat? We were aware of unidentified aerial objects in our atmosphere, but didn’t know what they were, but now we do. I am joined tonight by several leaders whom I’ve asked to speak to you. I want full transparency about what we are doing to understand and mitigate the threat that contact with extraterrestrial life brings with it. I’ve appointed Daniel Byrne of the Proxima Foundation to be a special assistant.”

  “No fucking way!” I shouted. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “Mr. Byrne, working with Google, Apple, and other technology companies, has developed a special mobile app that will provide guidance and special updates for all citizens of the world. The app is free and will be automatically downloaded to all devices.”

  It’s the iM4ET app. This can’t be!

  “Tonight, we are a nation and a world awakening to danger and called to defend our way of life, as we know it. What is at stake is not just America's freedom. This is the world's fight, civilization's fight, the fight of all who believe in our right to live and prosper on our planet. On behalf of the American people, I thank the world for its outpouring of support. God bless America.”

  The President stepped away and exited as Daniel Byrne stepped into his place, flanked by a Space Force four star and the Executive Director of NASA.

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Daniel said. “It’s an honor to be the liaison between our government and the Proximians.”

  “That son of a bitch! He’s got them all conned! He’s in on it!” I shouted.

  Daniel continued. “Less than 48 hours ago, I made contact with the Proximians at the Proxima Foundation Ranch in Montana. They communicated to me there, including others with us, including the press, and we agreed to not report the event until we were certain it could be reported without retribution from the Proximians. Well, the Proximians want us to report it now. They agree that the press needs to report the facts of the situation, so we are going to show you some of that footage now, so people can see for themselves.”

  The camera zoomed out to capture the large flat panel display to the side of the podium. The video began with a distant shot of a large, triangular rainbow-colored craft descending and hovering above Daniel standing in middle of the hexagram. Two beings floated out, arms outstretched, and came to stand on their feet in front of Daniel. They stood facing each other until bare-assed Daniel bowed to them. After a few moments, Daniel looked up at one of the beings, nodded, and then the video went dark.

  “Well, there you have it. Video of what happened at the ranch, witnessed by several dozen reporters, military leaders, and others.”

  I lost it. I pointed at the screen. “This is bullshit! I’m telling you, it’s fake! This is a government plot! This is bullshit! I was there! This didn’t happen!”

  An anchor from one of the affiliate stations in Seattle began shouting.

  Orderlies rushed into the day room and dragged me forcefully down the hall to a padded isolation room. They held me down until the nurse arrived with a large syringe.

  I kept resisting. “Why are you doing this? Listen to me! What was just on TV was fake! I’m telling you, it’s fake! I have proof! Just watch the videos we made!”

  “That’s enough, Mr. Davenport, you need to calm down,” the nurse said while rea
dying the syringe.

  The orderlies held me face down on the padded vinyl floor, one with his knee on my back, the other keeping my legs from kicking.

  “Just relax,” the nurse said, moving closer. “this will calm you so that you can think more clearly. Doctor’s orders.”

  “I am thinking clearly. I don’t need any medication. I’d like to leave, please.”

  Unable to move, I felt the needle stick me in the ass.

  The orderlies remained on top of me for a minute or so, then withdrew. I sat on the cushioned floor, my knees bent and my back to the wall, waiting for the noncompliant patient concoction to fully kick in. I stared at the chalky vinyl walls, the padding nullifying any sound I made. Above my head a single LED fixture pulsed pale light. I wondered what the pulsing was doing to my brain.

  I was enraged. How dare they lock me up for calling bullshit to the government’s fake alien invasion! It was obviously all orchestrated, and what of the other journalists locked up with me? I’d been witness to a secret government mind control operation, and when I’d resisted—when they realized that I wouldn’t be fooled—they’d committed me to a psychiatric ward, no doubt replete with falsified documents. How many others like me were there out there with strength of mind who were locked up across the country? I’m not crazy, I’m the one who’s rational. I had objective evidence, and my mind is clear. I cannot be fooled!

  Desperation washed over me as the minutes passed. What comes next? How long would I be locked up in here? Would I survive this? Do I want to survive to live in a new reality of mass techno-psychological mind control? What an Orwellian nightmare!

  I began bouncing my head repeatedly against the padded wall. I shouldn’t have trusted Daniel or Marcus and Hot Reports. I have a master’s in journalism from Northwestern and a Pulitzer nomination. I should have had the courage to do the podcast when I had the chance. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. The government and the telecommunications monopoly would have just shut me down anyway, right? But I knew the truth.

  Suddenly, I felt the familiar frequency in my ears, growing in amplitude with the pounding of my heart. Was the Clozapine kicking in, or was it the government’s mind control rays? I closed my eyes and shuttered my ears with the palms of my shaking hands. Please, God, help me! Please help me resist this! Let me keep my clarity of mind! I want to know the truth! Don’t let me be fooled!

  With my eyes still shut, I looked up at the overhead LED and felt the artificial light passing through my eyelids, causing a warm, orange glow. I relaxed, and my mind’s eye was viewing the high desert, the grass and sage shining in the tepid spring sun. I felt the warmth on my face and smelled the breeze. I was in Prescott Valley, Arizona, age ten. I was breathing and with every breath, the ringing in my ears faded. I heard the soft voice of my father. “Ben, my son, I have a lesson for you. Look at me.” Excited, I opened my eyes to a pale-gray humanoid form in the center of the room, bathed in purple and silver light. It had a large head and dark, empty eyes. It spoke directly to my mind. “Truth is, and will always be, in the eye of the beholder.”

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With deep gratitude, I wish to thank my family and friends for their support and encouragement while I wrote this book.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  David D. Luxton, PhD., is Affiliate Associate Professor in the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the University of Washington in Seattle, and a former research psychologist and health scientist with the US Department of Defense. Author of numerous scientific and policy-level publications, he consults widely on matters related to artificial intelligence, ethics, and psychological health. His previous books include Artificial Intelligence in Behavioral and Mental Health Care, A Practitioner’s Guide to Telemental Health, and the novel Behind The Machine. He served in the United States Air Force and presently volunteers as a Preventive Medicine Officer with the Washington State Guard. He’s also founder of the Wayfarer Records music label, and his recordings have been featured worldwide on radio, television, and in film. He lives by the Puget Sound in the Pacific Northwest, USA.

  Learn more at www.davidluxton.com