Chapter 1 – Present Day: Abita Springs, Louisiana.
Nobody knew whereabouts he had came from or how old he was. Some people joked he was one hundred years old but I think it was more like eighty though his features didn’t show it. His face was smooth, like sand with deep grooves cutting it up into sections. He was always sitting in that old wooden rocking chair outside the store in the hot sun, flicking cigarettes into his mouth from a soft pack. The smoke would drift across his skin like a sand storm over a hot desert as he exhaled. He made it seem natural. And the chair was like him; old; decrepit but seemingly unbreakable.
And he laughed annoyingly, usually at his own jokes but sometimes for no reason at all, like he knew something nobody else did.
He would make outrageous comments directed at the young women entering and exiting the store and he somehow got away with it because of his age. He was somebody the people in the town would ‘tolerate’ because they knew if they got to that age and was as happy as he appeared to be, they would be lucky. But there was also a mystery to the chain-smoking man with the long, white-grey, thin head of hair. People regarded him with a certain reverence, for his quite obvious joy in the simplicity of his life and there was a perception that he knew secrets that he could not share. Rumour had it he had spent his working life in Top Secret underground bunkers; Edwards Air Force Base, Raven Rock Mountain Complex, even Dreamland S-4. Doing what? Nobody around these parts knew, that’s for sure. These rumours of a secret military career had arisen from a short affair with a widow in the town, years before. And rumours they remained.
Kirk kept himself to himself living a simple life.
Then one day something changed in him. An old yellow New York style taxi cab pulled up outside the store on a Sunday, mid-morning kicking up a cloud of dust from the orange dirt road in the height of summer. A young woman wearing a long red skirt got out. She stepped over to him in black, high-heeled shoes, wilfully unsuited to the terrain. When his blood shot eyes caught sight of her in between puffs of smoke bellowing from his mouth and nostrils, his face winced up so suddenly, trebling the deep, cracked wrinkles on his face and his body tensed up so rigidly he looked like he was on the edge of death. The expression on his face was one of unmistakable fear. The woman approached the old man and leaned in close so her lips, bright red with lipstick were an inch from his face.
Something was said from her to him in that moment. But her lips never opened. Her mouth never mouthed any words. Instead the old man received a message telepathically as only human hybrids could do. He gripped the ends of the rocking chair. Fists clenched and sun bleached dry arms became contracted and taut like he was white knuckling his nicotine addiction.
He received a message in his mind loud and clear. Eyes opened wide and his mouth agape in astonishment. He seemed to freeze in time and it was the abandoned cigarette that lay, burning through the knee patch on his trousers that brought him back to reality with a ‘yelp!’ some moments later. The woman was gone. As was the taxi cab. He had a vague recollection of her leaving. The prints of her high heels lay in the dirt ground. She had been real. It had been real. A mind trick maybe? He knew the races of aliens were able to command time and human perception. The message had been clear. Disclosure was happening this year in the United States of America. Governments around the world would follow suit. A dangerous realisation was in play. One that had been building toward a climax for centuries and would change the earth forever.
His frown was deep like long-dried gulleys in the land.
He could hardly believe that it was happening in this timeline, and in this incarnation of himself! He was old, decrepit even. His mind was not nearly as sharp as it had been 20 years ago when he’d worked in the underground military mountain complexes. But life had a way of consistently handing him curve balls and old age would not stop him from rising again to meet this challenge. To his knowledge, he had experienced seven remembered reincarnations upon earth. Each consecutive reincarnation that had given him a mission to help prepare humanity for this time; for disclosure. The realisation that humanity on earth was not alone in this universe. That humanity had a shared history with ET aliens going back millions of years. And the mainstream history that humans learned in their educations was extremely limited, manipulated and convoluted. In truth humanity on this planet was in its fifth age. A fifth attempt had been granted to humanity, a fifth opportunity to grow and evolve into the higher dimensional beings we were destined to become, without destroying ourselves, a fifth time.
Chapter 2 – 1973 – Raven Rock Mountain Complex
At twenty-seven years old, a fresh-faced Kirk Hamilton had been in the military for exactly seven months.
He was a Master of translating ancient Sumerian cuneiform script, having studied at Harvard & then Yale he had settled in London for 2 years working at the British Museum before being head hunted by the American military and offered a position in the top secret Raven Rock Mountain Complex. An offer which he could not refuse! There was little or no prestige with the job. It was top secret and he could not tell anyone about it. He spent 4 days living and working within the complex and 3 days off in a rented house in nearby Waynesboro, Pennsylvania.
At the start of every shift it took 2 hours for him to pass through security checks. He spent his days in a laboratory amid the humming ventilation and sealed steel doors, deep within the Pennsylvanian mountain. His shifts were long, often up to 14 hours, sometimes longer. He had not met many people in the last 7 months and when he did his communication was restricted about what he was able to talk about. Every aspect about his work could not be shared with anyone from outside his department. Information was compartmentalised. It wasn’t long in starting at Raven Rock when Kirk was handed photographs; strange symbols engraved onto the side of a curved piece of metal. It was a language for sure. Ancient and mysterious. But no language known to man. It loosely resembled ancient Sumerian but more complex with many new symbols he did not recognise. Where Sumerian used single signs to mean many things at once – object, action, concept, deity – this version seemed to multiply this principle.
Five months into studying the script, Kirk discovered that a single glyph could encode sound, image, mathematics, emotion and stellar references simultaneously. The grammar operated not linearly but geometrically. So you didn’t read it left to right, you entered it.
When Kirk’s request for help in translating the byzantine language was finally accepted, his aide Dr Akila Potenza discovered that the meaning of the glyphs changed depending on who read it, when, and under what celestial alignment!
Throughout the process of translation Kirk had carried the deepening realisation within him that at the least this was a language from an ancient civilization that had not yet been announced among the intellectuals on earth, and it was many years from being introduced into the education system. But the farther he delved into this work, the remarkable notion that this language may not have originated from this planet became more realistic by the day. Kirks awakening had begun.
Chapter 3 – Breakthrough
With the introduction of Dr Akila Potenza, their progress in understanding how the ancient language could be read increased exponentially. Despite the fact that the wider language could read differently depending on who read it and under what celestial alignment, it was always read geometrically and the first line consisting of 15 symbols translated as the same to both Kirk and Dr Akila. 302 days into the painstaking and often miraculous deciphering written on the side of the mysterious piece of curved metal, they concluded it revealed names. The name of a planetary system. And planets with moons.
Mataba. A system with a sun at its centre and 3 orbiting planets. Hezeta, Jzhancith & Dohl. Each planet had between 1 and 3 smaller moons orbiting it.
Whilst Kirk sat in his office nursing a large whisky, staring into the peat coloured liquid; notions of the world he had grown up to believe in began to tear at the edges. During the past 302 days his psyche had gone through many feelings and thoughts related to his top secret work under the mountain. Excitement at first, egoic self importance popping up often to help him get through the long shifts when coffee had stopped working. Fascination and obsession held firm throughout masking an underlying confused and insecure Kirk, a state quite unfamiliar to him. He had begun to pull at his beard in recent days, a nervous habit that he was mostly unaware of.
Dr Potenza hand delivered the first full translation, a paper file, to their head of department located down the hall, whilst Kirk drank and stared at a wall. The translation brought further questions. The location of this planetary system was unknown; its distance unknown. He trusted that answers would materialise. He could not quite believe the position he now found himself in. An hour sped by. Dr Potenza had left the building. Kirk sucked the last smoky-peaty drops from the glass and headed for home. As the hot night air hit him, he breathed deeply taking short, slow steps toward a military bus that would take him back to . On the bus, he glanced around at the other passengers before settling into his seat, brimming with excitement, and frustrating acceptance that he could tell no one.
Chapter 4 – The Dream
The curvature of the corridor was lit up a stark, bright white. Unsure but willing, stepping onward Kirk could not see an end to the corridor due to the long curve to the right. Where was he? And yet it felt strangely familiar, comforting even. Suddenly two hooded figures in grey robes stood up ahead of him. They were small, only 3 feet in height in Kirks estimation. One of them revealed a hand and ushered him on towards them. He increased his pace, but only slightly. As the beckoning hand returned to the folds of robes Kirk swore there had only been three fingers! As he neared his hosts his vision blurred and then blackness for a few seconds before seeing himself from afar inside a clear, see through egg shaped container. There he was, lain back in a kind of space shuttle lounge chair. Eyes shut, the container hovered in mid air in what appeared to be blackness. Then the vision faded to black.
Kirk didn’t know how long it had been, minutes or hours when he awoke in his bed at home. Beads of sweat ran down his face as he sat up, fists clenched, arms taught. The dream had been…….so real. So strange.
2 full years had now passed since he had begun working on what he & his colleague now understood to be Alien Technology. The gradual & reality shattering realisation came hand in hand with the dreams. That both himself and Dr Potenza were now experiencing and enduring 2 or 3 times every week. In the privacy and safety of their laboratory under the mountain, they regularly exchanged information. They both experienced the same bright, white-lit corridor. The small, hooded, grey-robed creatures with three fingers on each hand. Dr Potenza confirmed that the fingers were extended, longer in length than human fingers. They both remembered the egg shaped containers that they had found themselves lying in. And the idea that they were in some kind of ship, a space ship?
As the dreams continued, Kirk’s anxiety grew. He was unsettled at work. Tired, often late to arrive when starting a new shift. Rashes had materialised on his wrists which he had begun to itch whenever he thought back to his last dream. He reflected upon the fact that unlike previous dreams in his iife where he would usually forget the details, in contrast these dreams contained details that were engrained in his memory. It was more like remembering events from his waking life. Certain details evoked fear in him. Or was it that the ever growing fear within him, grew in tandem with the gradual realisation that what was happening in reality he did not want to accept?
Chapter 5 – Present Day: Abita Springs, Louisiana.
It had been 2 hours since the red-skirted hybrid had approached Kirk on the store veranda. Kirk had rushed home. He dismantled a booby-trapped floor timber and prized the floor joist open with a long handled screwdriver. His eyes rested on the locked steel box, caked in dust and debris. Kirk let out a long breath, relieved it was still here after all these years. His instructions lay inside, that if this day was to ever come, was to guide the small remainder of his life he had left.
The khaki green steel box sat resting on a sheepskin rug in front of the old fireplace. With one hand he swept the majority of dust from its top and with the other he placed his thumb on a digital reader. A second later, there was a series of clicks and the box unlocked. Kirk searched through the old contents. A Glock 19 sat on top with a magazine of bullets. Underneath the cold, black firearm was a note book containing hand-written telephone numbers and strange cuneiform symbols next to each number. Then a small A5 colour photo of a woman fell from the pages. He caught his breath for a moment as his eyes locked onto her. The photo was of Dr. Potenza, pregnant, her hand on her belly, standing next to a tree, leaves falling in the air around her in Washington State Park. On the back of the photo was written; Autumn 1978. Kirk stared deep into the picture with energy. He wanted her to wave back, to speak and tell him they were okay. But he was of course met with silence. He remembered that trip. To Washington DC with Akila they had gone in that beautiful early autumn of 1978 to meet the President. Whilst leaves turned brown and began to detach from their birth mothers, swirl and drift in winds across the state, Kirk and Akila met with Jimmy Carter & his Secretary of Defence, Harold Brown in the oval office to share their secretive work findings.
In the afternoon they drove to Washington State Park in a Ford Fairmount rental car where they had picnicked by the Spokane River and Kirk had taken the photograph. His dark haired, Italian, pregnant love. His family. She smiled back at him from the photograph. A single tear touched his cheek before he regulated himself with years of training. Compulsively, he filed the photograph away like a piece of work, in his breast pocket.