by David Sloma
When he got bored, he switched to the channel from inside Charles's house, listening to Charles and his friend talking conspiracy theories. The man had to smile at how accurate they were about some things and how wrong they were about other things.
CHAPTER 26
Charles was going a bit stir-crazy from spending so much time at home. He’d been reading all he could find in medical journals on DNA, but nowhere did he find any mention of the symbol he had found; not that he really thought there would be, but he had to check. Nor was there any mention of the abnormalities—the obvious tinkering—with the DNA of humans.
It wasn’t until he came across some fringe writings and videos that the puzzle started to take shape. There were accounts in many ancient texts about humans being made by extra-terrestrial beings, or at least the primitive humans having their DNA altered by these beings; just like Stan had mentioned. The result, it was claimed, was a much faster development along certain characteristics than humans would have probably done on their own, like language skills, memory, and reasoning. That was the upside.
On the downside, the DNA sequences that had apparently been turned off by these beings were advanced mental functions such as ESP, precognition, an innate spiritual understanding, and compassion for all life. The altered humans would be more easily controllable this way and make better servants for whoever the beings were that made the alterations. And it wasn't just human life that had been messed with; all other life forms on Earth had been changed.
But there were other stories that told of a good race of beings who worked to counter the effects of the dumbing down of DNA on Earth. Not much was known about them, at least as far as Charles was able to find. He wondered, Could these be the Guild that Stan had mentioned? Are we dealing with real, live aliens, here? Holy crap!
He kept searching until his eyes started to bug out. Eventually, he got up and stretched, then went for another beer. He’d been reading and watching videos for hours and needed a break.
His phone rang, and he jumped. He answered it.
“Hello?” Charles said.
“Charles, it's me, Stan.”
“Jeez, you scared me! I've been reading up about aliens, and DNA, and all sorts of things here by myself. I was wondering when I was going to hear back from you. I left you a message a few days ago. I was about to leave another one. Is everything OK?”
“Yes, just been busy. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. How are things on your end? Holding up alright?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, I guess.” Charles pulled a beer out of the fridge and opened it. “Been doing a lot of research on the topics of interest. There’s a lot out there to back up what we were talking about, at least part of it.”
“Yes. So, you can see I’m not the only one into this stuff.” The professor laughed.
“No, I didn’t think so.”
“Charles, can you come by the house? Say tomorrow, if you don’t have any plans?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“It’s time we had another talk, and this time there are some people I want you to meet.”
“Who?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.
“Just come over, and you’ll see.”
“Alright. What time?”
They made the final arrangements, and Charles hung up the phone. “Woo,” he exhaled. “Things are coming to a head.”
He opened the door to his patio and lit up a joint. He walked around to the corner, dry leaves crunching under his feet, hiding the joint in his hand. The jeep was still there. “Doesn’t give up, does he? What he hell does he want?” Charles waved to the jeep. “I see you, asshole!”
He had been thinking about calling the police to report that someone was watching him, but there was no real proof; only the jeep parked on his street. He knew he’d have a hard time proving anything, even though he knew it was true. “He's probably got connections with the cops,” Charles muttered to himself.
He supposed if he told the police that the main person doing the watching was the head of security at his old job, then they might take it seriously, but he didn’t know. His old company was mixed up in a lot of military and secret business, which tended to operate outside the law; police likely wouldn't want to get involved.
In the end, he figured it was more trouble than it was worth to try and explain it all to the cops. He was hoping it was just a matter of routine to be watched for a time after leaving such a position as he had. If it went on much longer though, he was considering doing something about it; just what, he didn’t know. Maybe ask the professor if his contacts could step in.
Up the street, behind the jeep, the small sports car started up, flicked on its lights and drove away.
Charles went back inside and sat down at his computer. There were so many things to read, watch, and listen to about the alternate history of humanity that he didn’t know if he’d be able to get through it all in a week. He thought, Why have I never heard of this stuff before? There were a lot of people interested in a different view of history than he’d learned in school and read in history books. It’s like a whole new world was opening up before his eyes, one that confirmed the things he’d been discovering on his own, at least to an extent.
Yet, he’d found nothing about the marker he’d found on the DNA, the three green circles intertwined. A bit more searching on the Internet in vain made his eyes start to water, and he had to call it a night. He went to bed, hoping the Guild would decide to let him in on the secrets.
The next day, Charles woke up late, around noon, excited to be going over to see the professor. They had arranged that Charles would come by for dinner and meet the mysterious people the professor had mentioned. Though the professor didn’t say it, Charles suspected they must be from the Guild. The professor had said he would mention Charles to them. Charles thought, What else could it be if he wouldn’t talk about it on the phone? He got dressed up and left for the professor’s house.
On the drive he noticed the jeep was following him. He’d taken to waving at it and did so again. This time there was someone he didn’t recognize behind the wheel. “The chief must be taking a break,” Charles said to himself.
Then something strange happened: the jeep made a turn and disappeared. It was the first time he’d not had a tail in weeks. “Thank God,” Charles sighed.
He arrived on time and hurried from his car inside to the professor's; there was a chill in the air, and he could see his breath.
“Good evening, Charles!” The professor said. He closed the door as Charles stepped inside, trailing cold air. They shook hands.
“Good to see you,” Charles said.
“You look happy,” the professor remarked, seeing the big smile on his face. “Not just to see me, I’m guessing?”
“Nope, though that is good, too! Remember I told you the security goons from my old company were following me? Well, tonight it stopped! I was on my way over here, and the guy in a jeep was tailing me, right from my house. They like to park outside, so obvious. Idiots! He was following me, and then he just suddenly turned down another street. And there was no other car that picked up my tail, like they’ve done before, passing off with other cars. There was no one there. It was wonderful!”
“I’m glad to hear it.” The professor smiled.
“So am I. It took some doing, but they finally agreed to back off,” said a man who stepped out of the shadows behind the professor.
He was tall and thin, a bit tanned. His dark hair was showing only the slightest grey at the edges and was cut stylish and close. He wore golden “Lennon” type glasses. He was dressed in black slacks, black dress shoes, and a black turtleneck sweater, with a small medallion of three green circles intertwined around his neck on a golden chain. His age was hard to tell. He looked like he could be in his late forties or early fifties. His speech was cultured and refined. The man was obviously educated, and by the looks of his clothes, he had money. His eyes twinkled with a delighted humour.
“The Guild of the Watchers greets you. Or, at least it's representative, myself,” he said.
The professor turned to the man. “Charles, this is Mr. Aldus Lang. He’s from the group I was telling you about.”
The man held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Charles. I’ve heard a lot about you. Aldus Lang.”
They shook. “Charles Fortean. Pleased to meet you, too. You had something to do with getting them to back off?” Charles asked, slightly stunned by the charismatic man and his sudden appearance.
“Yes. Consider it a goodwill gesture on our part, towards someone we believe is on our side. We protect our own, Charles, and we hope that you’ll want to join with us,” said Aldus.
Charles was a bit dumbfounded. “But what did you do? And why were they following me around, exactly?”
“Seems someone did you a favor and gave them a warning to stop.”
“Really? Who? Your group, Mr. Lang?”
“Yes, but just call me Lang.” The man's voice was tough, yet like silk.
Charles looked the man over, clothed all in black, with the funky medallion, thinking he looked like any number of actors he’d seen on TV or in the movies playing a “Satanist” or “Magician” character.
“I prefer the term oculist to describe myself,” the man smiled.
Charles blinked, not believing what he’d just heard. “W-What did you say?” Charles thought, Did he just read my mind?
Lang smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “Some people seem to think I'm a Satanist, or a black magician, or something. Comes up all the time. I just like to set the record straight.”
Charles looked down at the man's hand as he spoke. He noticed a snake on the ring, topped with a large golden eyeball. His stomach constricted.
The man seemed very friendly, but Charles couldn’t help but be taken aback by the strange things the man wore and his display of what seemed like mind reading.
The Asian man from the van and the sports car appeared behind Lang. He was also dressed in black, with the same necklace. He whispered something into Lang's ear. Lang smiled and said, “This is my fellow Guild member, Mr. Alan Chang. He’s very dedicated to our cause, and my right-hand man. Meet Charles Fortean.”
“How do you do?” Mr. Chang said and bowed to Charles. He then held out his hand, and they shook hands. Charles noticed he had the same ring on.
“Gentlemen, shall we retire to the living room and have a drink?” The professor gestured towards the open French doors of the living room.
“Wendy's not joining us?” Charles asked.
“Ladies night out.” The professor smiled, leading them inside.
Over drinks and seated comfortably in the living room, with logs burning on the fireplace, the conversation continued.
“You have the symbols of the snake and all-seeing eye on your rings,” Charles said to Lang. “I know the Illuminati uses those symbols, and they are not at all nice guys. Why would you use the same things?”
“On the contrary,” Lang smiled, “those are our symbols, long ago stolen from us. You’ll notice we wear this symbol as well, which is familiar to you now.” He touched the necklace. “There has been a centuries-long battle going on, a war between the forces of good and evil, or light and dark, if you choose to see it that way. Our group was almost made extinct, wiped out in a program of genocide over thousands of years. Our ways were taken by those who had assumed we were gone, beaten. They were wrong. We are still here and rising again.” He sipped at his red wine.
“Very good, wine, Lang. I must thank you again!” The professor held up his glass, admiring the wine in the light.
Lang raised up the bottle, to which the professor held his glass under it to receive more. Charles looked at the bottle. Seems very old, with a hand-made paper label if I'm not wrong, Charles thought.
“Wine from one of our estates. Very old,” Lang said, again in a seeming response to a question Charles had in his mind.
“How do you keep doing that?” Charles asked.
“Doing what?”
“Reading my mind?”
A smile spread over Lang's face. “That's right, you don't know. We are adepts. We are skilled in the ways of the mind and its operation. For us, reading thoughts is usually a simple matter, at least as far as those who are unskilled in shielding themselves are concerned,” Lang said.
“How did you learn how to do it?” Charles asked.
“That is a long story,” Lang said, sipping some wine. “I will say that it was all worked out a long time ago. You see, the Illuminati are not the only ones who are instructed by beings much more advanced than themselves, in disincarnate form. We also have our teachers, our leaders, who are not in the body, though ours are on the good side. They are beings of pure light. We call them the Watchers. They instruct us and aid us in our battles here on Earth. If not for them, we would have perished a long time ago.”
“How do they...talk to you, then? Spirit communication? Séances?” Charles leaned forward in his seat, desperate for information.
“That's one way, but there have also been written records from antiquity. Have you ever heard of the Nag Hammadi Library?”
“No.”
“They are our ancient sacred scrolls, telling about the origins of life on this planet and beyond.”
“These scrolls...they say...?” Charles felt lost for words.
“They are but a fragment of our knowledge that was written down. Most of it was passed from teacher to student, thankfully, otherwise most of it would have been lost during the persecutions of us over time.”
“Like when they drove you out of countries and stole your scrolls and burned them?”
Lang smiled gently. “Let me ask you something. If you were a vicious conqueror, bent on the destruction of a people who had more advanced knowledge than you did, knowledge that was a real threat to you, would you just burn their writings after you had taken them?” He raised an eyebrow.
Charles made a wry smile. “No, I don’t suppose I would!”
“Exactly. We don’t suppose they did, either. In fact, we know they kept our writings, and many others, and deciphered them to gain access to what we knew. They were not able to make all of it work for them, as a lot of it takes one with a pure heart and good intentions to put it into practice. Call it a law of the universe. But, there was enough there, enough understanding of the universe and its laws that a lot has been done with what was stolen from us and many other societies, too. They used what they could for their dark purposes. With that, and instruction from their dark master, they put up a real fight for us on this planet, made it into quite the hellhole on many levels.”
“But you think there’s hope? Otherwise we wouldn't be here talking, right?” Charles thought this was one of the most exciting conversations he’d ever had.
“Of course there is! The dark forces are not more powerful than us; on the contrary, they are weaker. What they have going for them is a hypnotized mass of humans that they can bend to their will. This is party due to the DNA effects you so smartly have uncovered, and partly due to a systemic brainwashing through the centuries.”
“Did you know about these DNA problems?” Charles asked.
“We did. Though they were not widely known. Researchers who have spoken publicly about their findings have been run out of their careers, fired, and blacklisted, even killed.”
“I noticed that in my reading,” Charles said. “It’s very strange. You’d think science would be open to something like that.”
“It depends what circles of science you mean. There are some, like the militaries with their black projects and certain governments with negative agendas who know. And a few people in secret societies, both light and dark, know. But for the public at large, no; it’s just another thing they are not told, so they can be better controlled by the Dark One and his minions.”
“Minions? Sounds like devils,” Charles chuckled.
Lang and Stan shared a look. “V
ery much like that,” Lang said. “But we can go into that in more detail later. We want to know, now that you have a better idea of who we are, will you work for us?” Lang said.
“Do I have to join your secret society?” Charles asked. The professor watched Charles's face with interest.
“Yes, that’s the whole point,” Lang said.
“But how do I know you are any better than the other groups, or the Illuminati? I mean, you guys were watching me, too!” Charles pointed at Chang.
“We had to make sure you were who you said you were and were trustworthy. The professor tipped us off to you, and we took his recommendation seriously. When he told of what you had discovered, we knew we’d have to step in to safeguard your life, as it would only be a matter of time before the Illuminati would have had you killed—or “accidented,” or “suicided,” Lang explained.
“They would have killed me?” Charles’s mouth went slack.
“We believe so, yes. Charles, it’s not just anyone who has made the discoveries you have made, who has seen the things you’ve seen in the mystic state! You don’t realize how rare you are in this world! We do and feel it’s our mission to protect ones like you; ones like us. When you left your job, those behind the scenes of your employers were quite concerned you’d go public with what you had found—and yes, they were aware of what you had found. They have very advanced surveillance methods that you are not even aware of, like psychic spies who probed your mind.”
“Psychic spies?” Charles smirked. “Come on!”
“I’ve been reading your mind, haven't I? Answering questions you’ve not verbalized this evening. What makes you think others can’t do that same thing?”
Charles was silent for a moment; he had him there. “But at my job? At the lab?”
“That company is a front for secret military projects, I’m sure you suspected as much. They supply the black ops with data and technology. Those sorts of groups have been using psychic spies for a long time. You can bet on it that they were scanning all of their employees on a regular basis,” Lang said. He picked up the wine bottle and poured some more for himself and the professor, emptying it.
