by J. K. Scott
Kisha’s bluntness hit me again. I said, “Sure, I think about my mortality. Also, I know science is working on synthesizing a blood protein in the young that could slow aging. If life could be extended, that would be a bonus. However, I wouldn’t want to know the exact date and time.”
“And if you knew there was an incoming planet or asteroid hurtling toward our planet, wouldn’t you want the opportunity to do what you could for survival?” Kisha asked.
I understood Kisha’s view. Those in the know would escape to underground tunnels prepared for unexpected events. I contemplated if I wanted to share the images with Kisha. Cascade would have another nail for my coffin.
I politely excused myself and headed for the bathroom. I had to ask myself why I was even here. I washed my face and debated if I should leave. Intuitively, I knew the images were not Planet X, but I needed another view.
When I returned, Kisha appeared worried as if she knew my thoughts. I said, “Let’s view the images. I’m not certain the copy will be there or what you will see.”
“Great. Let’s do it,” Kisha said with determination.
I said, “They’re in my jeep.”
Kisha followed me to the garage to collect my bag. When we returned, she led me to the guest room, saying, “You’re welcome to stay here. Make yourself at home while I set up the equipment.”
I planned to stay at the campsite on the island and had no desire to stay at her place. I decided to take advantage of the shower to wash off the bay’s salt water after the long trip and change.
Kisha had darkened the living room. The high-speed camera perched on a tripod angled at the walled screen. On the computer desk was a metallic flash drive and Mylar disc. She tested the high-tech printer, assuring me she had several options to capture the images on the media. Kisha said, “Tell me what to expect.”
I detailed the timer settings and erasure speed and expressed I wasn’t sure what she would view.
Accepting my explanation, Kisha said, “I’m ready.”
Accessing the images for the third time, anxiety overcame me as I hoped the images would be there. My heart skipped a beat when I saw fifteen seconds on the copied drive with only seven files. I had lost seven seconds and one image from the original twenty-two seconds and eight files. Swiftly, I spread the images on the screen and stared at each. I etched the images in my mind for a second time as they evaporated. The ordeal transpired rapidly. I didn’t even hear the buzz of the printer.
Quickly, Kisha attempted to retrieve the images, but the flash drive had been erased. The printer captured the random dots along with black-and-white voids, but the images lacked definition. The video recorder captured two-dimensional images that appeared shadowy and reminded me of Cascade’s limited frames. The special Mylar disc would need to be analyzed on a specialized graphic computer for evaluation. Kisha confidently claimed she had access to a high-level computer.
I moved to the lounge chair, closed my eyes, and reviewed the images again. This time, I saw more data and contrast over the previous views. When I finally opened my eyes, Kisha seemed to be staring at me.
I asked Kisha, “What did you see?”
She pulled her chair closer. “The scattered dots look complicated. I could see a form, but it looked unorganized. The dots seemed random and disconnected. The second form looked like a circular shadow that had holes in it. I did see contrasting light and dark holes.”
Kisha had seen two-dimensional scattered dots with more detail than Mary’s view. I wondered if this copy showed more definition. I explained I had viewed multilayered three-dimensional forms. I asked, “How do you feel about the images?”
“I’m disappointed. I don’t understand Cascade’s special interest in these images. There must be more you haven’t told me.”
I leaned forward in the chair. “You’re right. There’s another factor.”
“Like what?” Kisha said in an agitated voice.
“You referred to me as a graphics specialist. At sixteen, I had a head injury that left me with a unique ability to formulate patterns. I’m able to transform patterns back to their origin. For example, if you dropped a glass rabbit statue on the tile, there would be glass shards splattered on the hard floor. Not knowing what you dropped, I’m able to visualize the patterns to the object’s origin and identify the glass rabbit.”
Kisha leaned closer to me. “Wow, that’s amazing. What a gift to formulate patterns!”
“Yes I’m grateful, but before I explain further or work on these images, first I need a bite to eat; my stomach is growling.”
Kisha glanced at the screen time. “I haven’t had time to shop, and the refrigerator is empty. There aren’t any grocery stores or drugstores on the island, only retail shops and restaurants. I’ll call the resort next door and order takeout.”
“Great,” I said, questioning why she didn’t have food supplies in preparation for unexpected events and especially hurricanes.
We ordered house salads, shrimp pasta, a chicken dish, and a dessert. With a thirty-minute wait, Kisha suggested we stroll along the silky sandy beach. I offered to stay in the condo, but she assured me the condo was secure.
We sat on the beach as introspective poets, discussing the magnificent evening sky and wonders of life. Kisha’s presence softened, slowly melting the sharp edges in my mind and calming my paranoia from these past few chaotic days.
My thoughts were interrupted as a couple jogged by, kicking up sand and leaving a trail of crushed footprints in the soaked sand. We decided to leave the comfort of the beach to collect dinner and return to the condo. I needed to know more about Kisha before I said anything else.
16
WE DINED ON the screened veranda overlooking the shadowy, foamy ocean as clouds rolled in from afar. I inhaled dinner while Kisha maintained polite conversation. The dark sky began to rumble as we finished dessert. The thunder increased, a lightning bolt cracked, and a surge of humid wind blew around us.
“Let’s move inside before it pours,” Kisha said.
I followed her, carrying in my dishes. She put the dishes in the dishwasher, adding, “Florida is known for unexpected summer downpours.”
“Like the Arizona monsoons,” I said.
“Similar, but they are called tropical summer storms. Florida is the lightning capital of the United States. Be advised, I’ve seen bolts that caused fire damage.”
Kisha served coffee, which meant a late evening. I dove into my questions. “I’m curious, Kisha—who do you work for?”
Defensively, Kisha said, “I’m my own boss. I’m supported by some discreet top secret financiers.”
After the past week, I wasn’t in the mood for evasive answers. I pressed on. “What type of financiers? Are they part of a disinformation campaign, or are you the real thing?”
Appearing incensed, she said, “I’m the real thing. I present truthful facts, but I must protect my sources. Scientists’ and others’ lives could be threatened if I released their names.”
“I don’t want names. I’d like to know what level of authority is providing you with information, and I agree with you,” I said, avoiding being offensive.
“There are astronomers, amateur scientists, and religious and political leaders who support my research on possible future events. Also, there are historians who provide me the latest interpretations from ancient texts.”
“You read sacred texts?” I asked.
“Yes. In the future, I believe Planet X will intercept our solar system,” Kisha said adamantly, dimming the bright light next to her.
“Do you believe our sun is part of a binary star, possibly from another solar system or constellation light-years away?”
“Yes, without a doubt. And it could be a brown dwarf, which is hard to detect without much light. That’s why I keep lecturing.”
“What do you know a
bout the clandestine plans for survival?”
“They already have underground living space, plus arks, caves, and warning systems. I suspect there are thousands in the know who plan for such cataclysmic events. Their plans are highly protected. You’d be surprised who manages these projects.”
“And how privy are you?” I asked, noting Kisha’s immediate reaction to my insinuations.
Carefully, Kisha said, “I was invited to join them if I’d denounce my lectures as fraudulent.”
I leaned back in the chair, feeling a twinge in my back. “So you know these thousands of preparers?”
“Yes, I do! They are those threatening my life, disclaiming what I know and accusing me of being unstable. They are conspirators with an ax to grind. You name it; I’ve been accused of it. Do you think it’s easy to tell others there is an intercepting planet coming our way? Four out of five times, it almost destroyed all life on Earth? How could I live with myself if I didn’t forewarn them or clamor for transparency?”
Kisha’s passion dug deep. I respected her work but kept thinking about who’d murdered the courier in the desert. The images could be something else entirely.
I contemplated what my next move should be. I hadn’t heard from Peter, and I felt like a lone wolf. I said, “I should be leaving soon.”
Kisha said, “You can’t leave. I need to know more about what you see in the images.”
“Fair enough … I saw two objects. One object appeared to be a circle that could be a planet or something else. The other image looked like an artificial satellite. Also, there is the possibility that these images are fraudulent or someone wants to destroy the credibility of the messenger. These images need to be evaluated with scrutiny. How and when were these photos taken? Who took them? Who was to receive them? What was the agenda or purpose? And if these images are real, could these objects be hostile? Is there intelligence? Is it possible the images are from Earth’s adversaries, another planet, or even another dimension?”
Kisha looked at the time and then jotted a quick note before saying, “What else?”
I continued. “I’ve been speculating about these objects. Could it possibly be a rescue mission? Could the satellite be an antigravity object that follows the darker-looking form or planet to filter or prevent an impact upon Earth? And if it’s a rescue mission, how many could be saved? Could the objects be space newscasters? Or could the objects be secret satellites to protect Earth from our adversaries or a Star Wars-like defense program in our skies? Or they could be fraudulent, taken in a studio to confuse us.”
Kisha leaned forward in her chair. “This is unbelievable. My mind is spinning. Do you believe they could be fakes or disinformation?”
I said, “I’m not sure. They could be far more sinister and beyond our comprehension. What if alien intelligence considers us unacceptable neighbors? We are destroying the planet and life as we speak.”
Kisha moved to the computer. Astounded by her abrupt move, I asked, “What are you doing?”
“I told you I want you to finish your work,” Kisha replied.
“Kisha, I don’t want anyone else involved!”
“My friend has access to a computer you need.”
Furious, I shouted, “How do I know if I can trust your friend?”
“You don’t. You have to trust me.”
This was more than I had agreed to. In hindsight, I realized I should have avoided telling her my interpretations. I wanted to leave. I politely excused myself to collect my bag. I casually lifted the video film chip, leaving the Mylar disc and empty flash drive on the computer desk. Kisha was caught off guard.
She stood and said, “You can’t leave now.”
Kisha appeared frustrated and upset. I couldn’t decide if she was being manipulative or if she meant it. Firmly, I said, “I’m leaving. I don’t know your friend and am unclear on your agenda. You may have the images, but they are incomplete without my analysis.”
It wasn’t like me to tout my abilities, but the past few days had climaxed to this moment. The whole ordeal was driving me senseless.
Kisha stepped closer and grasped my hand. “Dak, I’m not the enemy. My friend Adam has access to a computer lab. You have few options; otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
She was right. I politely removed my hand from hers. I didn’t have a better offer, and I didn’t even know what I was protecting. I wondered if the courier was informed. I sternly said, “Before I agree to work with your friend, I need to know who you both work for.”
“Well, you are not going to like or believe my story,” Kisha said.
I took a chair, and she sat on the lounge chair across from me.
17
AT THIS PIVOTAL juncture, I had to determine if I could trust Kisha and her friend to work with me or not. She’d had her own hidden agenda from the moment I had processed the images. I tightly held onto the copied images while listening to her story.
Kisha said, “Dak, you’d be making a serious mistake not accepting the offer to work with Adam.”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me who you work for,” I said.
She offered me another glass of wine, and I declined. She went to the kitchen and poured another glass. I wondered if she was stalling by indulging herself with coffee and wine.
She returned to the lounge chair and in a firm voice said, “Five years ago, Palm Frog, a private Sarasota company, offered me a position to analyze ancient texts. I had fulfilled my Berkeley teaching contract and needed a lucrative salary to continue my personal work. At that time, the unknown Palm Frog offered me a job. I agreed to work for them. They are officially funded for protecting endangered species in Florida. After a few months, I discovered they had an ancient text department with a covert agenda to discredit people, place, or things. And after my interpretations of the Kolbrin, they were going to discredit me.”
“Why would you work for them?” I asked.
Kisha rolled her neck around as if to circumvent a neck cramp and then took a sip of wine. “I worked on the Bronze and Cole books before they became public. The books had numerous chapters on the Destroyer, known today as Planet X, and how it devastated the planet in the past.”
Kisha paused as if to assess my reaction. She continued with my full attention, saying, “The more I uncovered, the more I realized that many books weren’t mythical but were mired in human experiences from ancient times. At that time, Adam, a videographer who worked on protecting endangered species, approached me. He had a keen interest in the darker side of Palm Frog. We discovered we both shared a mutual interest in Planet X. Adam informed me that I’d been hired by Palm Frog to discredit insightful historic books, like the Kolbrin, before they were translated into English.”
“So you became a whistle-blower?” I asked.
“Not exactly. I had to be more covert.”
“So you and Adam left Palm Frog?”
“No. Adam still makes video documentaries for Palm Frog’s credible business. I learned that Palm Frog is one of more than three thousand privately managed secret companies, including many without storefronts. There are more than twelve hundred government agencies with more than seventeen thousand unsuspecting locations. And unbelievably, there are more than a million people employed by these companies—some working on clandestine activities without any transparency. Many are unaware of the status of their work, and it is mostly unknown to the public.”
I thought to myself, Cascade is one of those clandestine companies. Curious to know more about her discoveries, I asked, “What else did you learn before leaving the company?”
“I still work for Palm Frog’s dark side,” Kisha said calmly.
I gasped. “What?” I said, as if I hadn’t heard her correctly.
“Once I realized I’d been hired to discredit the Kolbrin, I became resentful and wanted to leave the company. It was too late
. Palm Frog had become suspicious of me. To appease me, I was assigned to lecture on Planet X with plans to discredit me in the future.”
Kisha had been right; I didn’t like her story. I was so stupefied that I asked, “And you still work for them?”
“I really don’t have a choice. My lectures warn others to research the subject. I know I’m being manipulated by Palm Frog to promote their future agenda, but at least I’m raising awareness of the possibility of Planet X’s discovery.”
Dumbfounded, I said, “Become a whistle-blower!”
“You don’t understand. I’m lecturing on what I truly believe. I don’t have much time before they destroy me.” Kisha paused momentarily and then said, “If I leave Palm Frog, they will make sure I don’t survive. I have a medical sensor the size of a rice grain that remotely can release toxins inside me.”
“What?” I was aware of the nefarious side of implants from rogue companies, but to talk to someone with a toxic implant was unreal.
“When I threatened to leave, they told me they’d had the implant inserted when I was hospitalized for an appendectomy. Any attempt to remove the implant would threaten my life.”
I said, “You’re right; I don’t like your story.”
“I don’t like it either,” Kisha said softly.
“I’m sorry, Kisha. I’m jeopardizing your safety being here.”
She leaned forward. “They don’t know all my secrets. This is Adam’s condo. My place is across the street. Palm Frog has video cameras inside my condo.” She glanced at the time. “Adam and his loyal staff are timing the video recorder probably with me sleeping at this moment.”
Overwhelmed by the technical feats, I felt uncomfortable. I sat on the couch, wondering if Adam recorded his condo too. “Then there’s a set time for me to leave?” I asked, recalling my desire to leave earlier.
“You need to leave before I do. I need to be at home by six in the morning and be in the shower at six twelve for Adam to revert to live cameras. You are to meet Adam at seven o’clock at Starbucks to deliver the Office Scope and the image copies and make arrangements to work with Adam and his staff.”
