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All of the Above

Page 30

by Timothy Scott Bennett


  “We’ll get to that. The point is I was enamored. He showed me pictures of himself and Truman. He’s way older than he looks, and he’s been involved since the beginning. And that blinded me.”

  “From what?”

  “From the fact that the whole deal was a load of crap.”

  Linda sighed. “I wish you could just give me one of those packet things you were talking about. This all takes so long.”

  “I do too, Linda. But we need to do this in the physical. It’s where it’s playing out. And you’re not checked out for anything beyond that. You’re flying blindfolded right now.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Linda said with mock gratitude. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

  “We have to start with what is.”

  “You’re the boss, Obie. So what whole deal is a load of crap?”

  “The People. The Plan. Rice’s entire notion of what’s going on. From the start, the people ‘in charge’ have tried to control and use the UFO phenomenon, interpreting what they saw through the materialist paradigm, and failing to notice that the non-human intelligences involved were up to something they could barely imagine.” Obie stopped and raised an eyebrow. “You tracking this?” he asked.

  Linda frowned. “Not sure.” She thought for a moment. “You’re just saying that the way we’ve thought about UFOs has been wrong from the get-go, right?”

  Obie nodded. “There have been a few people who could break through the confines of our culture and see the phenomenon more clearly, but in terms of our government and military leaders, yes. They got it all wrong. And they’ve now built an entire system of institutions and structures based on this misunderstanding.”

  “I see.” Linda took a deep breath. “I’ll just assume that you’ll eventually tell me how they got it all wrong. But we were talking about you. How is it you came to know this?”

  “I started to figure it out the first time I met the Strangers.” Obie twisted so that he could cross his legs underneath him. He closed his eyes. “You remember what I said about ‘the Show,’ right?”

  “Sure. You said the aliens just adore the theater.”

  “It’s a somewhat clunky way of sharing a packet in the physical realm, using words and images and music, old archetypal and mythic stuff that resonates with the physical bands and human vibrational levels, so that we can begin to understand them. I’d been with Rice for about six months. Lived down in the Rock. I was training with Bob and Random. And I’d met Spud and Mork, the two designated “ambassador” aliens that lived down in the Rock with us. But it wasn’t until the Strangers grabbed me and took me for tagging that I began to understand that it was all the show, the whole of the UFO experience, going back centuries, maybe millennia. It’s one vast piece of performance art, the world’s largest and longest running off-Broadway play, with the Strangers directing, and Spud and Mork as seasoned actors.”

  Obie stopped for a moment, his eyes remaining closed as if playing out the scene in his mind. Just before Linda could prompt him he spoke again. “They took me through a classic abduction scenario. All the same stuff you went through. But every one of them was Rice. Every little bug, every walking stick, they all had Rice’s face, Rice’s hair, even Rice’s voice. Three little Rices came and got me and floated me through a sliding glass door to a ship where a bunch more little Rices examined me and a couple of tall, spindly Rices spoke with me and told me about the end of the world. It was Rice everywhere.” Obie opened his eyes and grinned at Linda. “Thinking about it now it was funny as hell.”

  Linda held up her bandaged hand. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t share in the joke.”

  “Sorry. But yeah, it was Rice everywhere. And that stuck with me. I knew they were trying to communicate something important, but it took a while to sink in.”

  “What was it that changed for you?”

  Obie’s eyes were closed again, to help him remember. “They took me apart,” he said.

  “Who took you apart?”

  “The Strangers. The Rices. On that first encounter. They dismembered my body right before my eyes. Cut me up into little pieces and then put me back together. It was the most physically excruciating thing I’ve ever felt.”

  “Jesus.”

  “That’s what I said. But Jesus didn’t come and help me. Neither did anybody else. They cut me up and I died and then they brought me back to life and put me back in my bed. Life hasn’t been the same since.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Please remember that I was gung ho Air Force up until that point. This was all brand new to me. But I wasn’t stupid. And I started to see that things were not as they seemed.”

  “Tell me.”

  “What I realized was that Rice and the People see the whole alien thing almost entirely in materialist terms. Sure, they’ll do a bit of out-of-body universe-hopping when it suits them, but as far as they’re concerned they live in a physical world of rocks and trees and dogs and cats, where the aliens come in metallic ships from distant planets to exploit the Earth’s resources and battle for control of the world. In other words, they created the Strangers in their own image. They see them as being essentially just like themselves, which was the meaning of all of those Rice faces. The Strangers were telling me that, when we look at them, we’re seeing ourselves.”

  “So something didn’t add up. My experience of the Strangers was that they were far more bizarre than Rice, or any of us, could imagine. And the fact that, for some reason I didn’t quite understand, the Strangers were trying to warn me of our misperception didn’t align with the story of interstellar wars and evil aliens trying to rule the world. I began to question the Plan.”

  “Tell me about this Plan, Obie. What is the Plan? I’m not sure I really understand it. Who all is involved? How much do the People control?”

  Obie smiled. “The Plan is for the People and the Life to ally against what they see as the ‘evil’ nations and ideologies on this planet, and those supposedly ‘evil’ alien species who are trying to control and exploit the planet, in order, they say, to protect the rights and freedoms of the Earth and her people. The Plan is to genetically combine the Life and Homo sapiens together into a hybrid species that represents the best of both. And the Plan is for the aliens to give us the technologies we’ll need to keep our civilization going, despite how grim things look now.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a mission statement.”

  “That’s the short version that goes in the brochure. But once you hire on and read the fine print, you learn that, for the People, it has always been about power and control, about an occult technocracy of elite bankers, corporate power brokers, and world leaders enacting a long-term and carefully thought-out plan to manipulate the vast majority of humans into enslaving themselves while believing themselves free. They breed us like cattle, making compliant slaves who question neither the fence nor the abattoir. It’s a plan for control at all costs, damn the consequences, which include, now, the possible extinction of most of the life on this planet. Somewhere in there you’ll find a self-disgust so deep, and a death wish so profound, that it’ll take your breath away.”

  Linda sighed deeply, thinking of the nation she had sworn to lead. How had we become so lost, that we would keep such things hidden in the darkness? And was there any way back into the light? She reached up and rubbed the short nap of her hair, basking briefly in the way it tingled, in how smooth and clean it felt, gently caressing the bruises and cuts that reminded her of those long days and nights underground. The touch of her own fingers soothed her exhausted mind and opened her heart, making room for Obie’s strange tale to wash over her in such a way that she could feel how it resonated with her own inner knowing.

  “That feels true to me,” she said at last. She took a deep breath, to help her find her next question. “So how did it come to be like this?”

  Obie nodded and raised his eyebrows, a teacher acknowledging a good question. “Well, you have to start by realizing th
at the framing conditions of our culture select for psychopaths, or were invented by them. The whole dominate-and-control game tends strongly to reward, and put into positions of power, people with little or no conscience, feeling, or empathy, people who are wired to lie, cheat, steal, and manipulate to get what they want, and to protect themselves from being discovered.”

  “Hmm. Another compliment. How nice.” Linda smiled to show she wasn’t really offended.

  “Yeah, well, you’re in office despite that system, Linda, not because of it. But I’m sure you understand my meaning. Your compatriots in Washington and around the globe tend toward the money-grubbing and power-hungry end of the continuum, rather than the compassion and service end of things. The government is morally bankrupt.”

  Linda nodded. “You’ve been to the same parties I’ve been to, I see.”

  “So these are the people who grabbed hold of the whole UFO/alien thing when the opportunity arose. They seized it and tried to shape it to suit their agendas. The rest is history. Or would be, if anybody knew about it. They’re in it for the long haul, or think they are, these bastards, using fear and disinformation to control the comfort-addled masses. When the Strangers made their move back in the forties, the power elite simply subsumed them into their psychopathic worldview. And what a stroke of luck for them. Not only do you get some incredible new toys, you get some very convincing bargaining chips. When China starts squirming about propping up the U.S. economy, claims of an alien-designed missile-defense system give our threats to nuke them back to the Stone Age some real teeth, as Russell’s team found out in 2013.”

  “So it was like with your father: what you saw behind the scenes did not match up with what the People said about themselves. You started to question their Plan.”

  “I did. That dismemberment was for real, as far as my psyche was concerned. The Strangers really did take me apart. Over the course of the next few months they abducted me six more times, each experience stripping away deeper levels of assumption and identity. It was … fierce. But it swept the insanity of our culture right out of my soul, or most of it, at least. And it opened me up to this miraculous, apparently chaotic Universe in which we live. I don’t regret a bit of it.”

  “I’m glad,” said Linda. Saying this, Linda realized that it was really so. Obie felt pretty sane and free to her. She was glad.

  “In my free time I started reading anything and everything I could get my hands on, about the UFO phenomenon, about paranormal experiences and lost ancient cultures and alternate spiritual systems and the quantum/holographic nature of reality. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could see, as if the gods had reached down and touched me with a larger view of reality. But of course Rice didn’t want to hear about it. Neither did anyone else with whom I was working. As far as they were concerned, they had it all figured out. ‘No need to ask such questions, my boy, we dealt with that decades ago.’ Shit like that. There were hybrids to breed and ships to build and systems to deploy and there just wasn’t time for that fairy nonsense. So I went underground inside an already deeply underground organization. I hid my thoughts and watched and waited, and felt more and more alone.”

  “And then you left.”

  “Not for quite a while, no. You don’t jump paradigms overnight. I sure as hell didn’t. But eventually I came to see that Rice and the rest of them had missed the real news: that the universe is made of consciousness; that the Cosmos is a place of magic and wonder and evolution. And I think I would have stayed with the People and tried to help them see what I saw, to transform the organization from the inside out, had it not been for 9/11.”

  Linda sighed heavily. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Well, basically, the 9/11 Truth movement has been right to challenge the official conspiracy theory with one of their own. And they’ve got much of it right. But what they are seemingly unable to see, because most of them are products of the dominant mainstream culture, is that humans were not the only intelligent species flying around over New York and Washington that day. And they don’t see how 9/11 fit into the human/alien Plan.”

  “Jesus.”

  There was a knock on the door and Obie rose to see who was there, holding the door against the wind with his knee. An old Inuit woman bundled in Gore-tex and fur stood on the stoop, smiling and blinking in the windstorm, her face a web of wrinkles. She was holding out a covered iron pot. Obie motioned for her to come in but she shook her head. She shouted into the gale, a single, cheery word that Obie could not make out, then handed him the pot, turned, and walked away toward the center of the hamlet.

  Obie closed the door. “Looks like breakfast has arrived,” he said with a grin.

  “Great.” Linda pushed off the comforter and stood, slowly stretching her legs and back, twisting side-to-side to loosen her tight, aching stomach. The thermal long johns, moleskin jeans, flannel shirt and fleece jacket they’d given her kept her warm enough, but she’d taken off her wool socks to sleep and her feet were freezing on the trailer floor. She sat back down and worked to pull on her socks with her one good hand. It took her a while, but she managed it. She joined Obie in the kitchen. Already he was spooning a hot mixture into a pair of bowls, and there looked to be large hunks of fried bread as well. Linda’s stomach reminded her how long it had been since she’d eaten.

  “Looks like a fish stew,” explained Obie. “With some berries of some sort. And seaweed, I think.” He blew across a spoonful to cool it and then put it into his mouth. “Good,” he said, chewing.

  Linda took her bowl and a piece of the bread and limped back to the futon, favoring her sprained ankle. Drawing her legs up, she cradled the bowl on her lap and tasted the stew. “Oh, man,” she said. “It’s been….” She stopped for a moment to think. “Jesus, Obie! Was it just yesterday afternoon that you found me?”

  “Yep.”

  “And I hadn’t seen Rice since … I don’t know. It was pitch black most of the time. I lost track. I was sick for a long time. And then he left me alone for at least a day, except for those fucking videos. I don’t even know what day this is. But I haven’t eaten since he brought me Chinese.” She spooned another mouthful, then another, the hunger building as she ate.

  “It’s Saturday,” said Obie. “The seventh.”

  Linda stopped. They’d gone to meet Legrand on Wednesday. Which meant Cole had been dead for three days now. Three days. Where were his kids now? How was Grace? And Keeley? It was all so fucked. She couldn’t keep up with the past, let alone the present. Linda caught a big hunk of fish with her spoon and shoved it into her mouth. The warmth and solidity of it soothed her anxiety for a moment. She returned to the conversation.

  “So 9/11 changed everything?” she asked.

  Obie nodded. He was back in the recliner, his bowl balanced on one knee, his bread balanced on the other. “It changed things for a lot of people, Linda. Woke them up to the reality of the situation. Not just about our government, but our economic, energy, and environmental situations as well. For me, there was no way I was going to remain in a group that could do such things. I’d thought the meeting that I attended was just scenario planning, you know? War games and shit. When I saw it play out in the real world, that was it: I was out of there. Hopped a transport to Istanbul. Shot up a bar and stole a truck, which I crashed through a fence and drove up onto the lawn of the some rich guy from Germany. I ended up in the hospital at Incirlik Air Base. It didn’t take much acting to convince them I’d gone bonkers. As soon as I could I snuck out and disappeared.”

  “And you’ve been living on the streets ever since?”

  Obie nodded. “Yep. Chicago in the summers. Sometimes Duluth. Usually someplace in California for the winters, though lately I’ve tended to stay in the Midwest all year long. It doesn’t get much crazier than living on the streets of Chicago in sub-zero temps.”

  “And that’s your goal? To look crazy?”

  “You got it. As long as I’m crazy, it seems like Rice and Bob
leave me alone.”

  “But can’t they just, you know, get inside your skull and learn the truth?”

  Obie tapped his head. “Not this skull.”

  Linda smiled. “Another nice trick.”

  “I’ll teach it to you before we leave here,” said Obie.

  Linda finished her stew and started on her hunk of bread. “So didn’t you blow your cover, rescuing me?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I guess I probably did. Let’s hope it was worth it, eh?”

  They both ate in silence for a while.

  “So what have you done since, Obie? This was all over fifteen years ago. I mean, the country’s been slowly going to hell and Rice is still running the show and you’re just hanging out in soup lines? It doesn’t seem to fit who you are.”

  Obie considered Linda’s question for a moment before responding. “We could say I’ve been in a long and rigorous apprenticeship.”

  “With whom?”

  “All of the above,” answered Obie. He pointed toward the heavens.

  “And now you’re, like, ready to hang out your own shingle?”

  Obie smiled. “I think my work, now, is to help you do the work the world has given you to do.”

  13.4

  She’d searched the places she could think to investigate, but found nothing. No matter how much she focused on her father’s heart, he was simply gone, as if he’d fallen off the edge of the Universe. His vibration was absent. There was nothing to move toward. And the Cosmos was much too big a place to explore blindly. So many layers. So many souls.

  The thought of him gone forever dimmed her to a dull gray. Grace could feel her own heart fade into uncertainty and loss. But she also realized that she understood very little of this realm. Maybe he was hidden, somehow. Trapped by the scary ones, perhaps, as she had been. It was too soon to grieve. For now, she would continue to look.

  “We have a visitor.”

  Grace whirled in surprise, not realizing she’d returned to where she’d left Evlyn with Dennis. She opened back up and shared her heart, greeting her friends and noting that Linda remained safe. The President was talking with the man Grace now knew to be her uncle Obie. Overhead, old ones from many realms stood guard. That was good.

 

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