by Mac Tonnies
Finally, we’re forced to consider that at least some CTs have achieved genuine space travel, throwing our definitional framework into havoc. Space-based CTs wouldn’t be extraterrestrials in the sense argued by ufological pundits, but they would be something engagingly “other,” even if the difference separating them from their Earth-bound peers is as substantial as that distinguishing astronauts from humans of more mundane professions.
Still, the prospect of an underground origin beckons with the inexorable logic that colors our most treasured contemporary myths. Given our yawning ignorance of our own planet—especially its oceans, which remain stubbornly mysterious—it remains worthy of consideration. From the lusty politics of Mount Olympus to Shaver’s pulp cosmology (complete with telepathic harassment and other ingredients later found in “serious” UFO abduction literature), even a cursory assessment of subterranean mythology indicates a nonhuman presence of surprisingly human dimensions.
This striking familiarity—so unlikely in the case of genuine extraterrestrial contact—meshes with modern occupant reports, which typically depict humanoid beings seen in the context of extraordinary technology. Villas-Boas had sex with a diminutive female who, while strangely mannered, can hardly be termed “alien.” The alarming fact that intercourse was possible at all smacks of an encounter between two human beings—an observation routinely dismissed by proponents of the Extraterrestrial Hypothesis, who seem inordinately enamored of Villas-Boas’ own conviction that he had been used as breeding stock for a race of apparent space people.
The beings encountered by Betty and Barney Hill seem at least as human when addressed safely outside the confines of ETH dogma; even Betty’s dialogue with the “leader” has the nuanced, bantering quality of two strangers attempting to come to grips with a mutual predicament. Indeed, the beings’ puzzlement when confronted with dentures tends to argue in favor of the CTH. We might reasonably expect bona fide ET anthropologists to set aside the minor mystery of artificial teeth with clinical detachment; instead, Betty’s ability to note her abductors’ astonishment (feigned or genuine) detracts from the ETH by indicating a suspiciously human rapport.
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Since I began writing about indigenous aliens in early 2006, readers have pointed out parallels with similar esoteric theories (usually involving interdimensional travel of some sort). To be fair, the cryptoterrestrial prospect isn’t as new as it might seem to readers new to forteana. This was struck home upon encountering the work of William Michael Mott, a researcher enamored of mythological tales of lost civilizations and underground habitats. His book Caverns, Cauldrons, And Concealed Creatures suggests that there is very strong circumstantial evidence—based on folklore, mythology, religion, archeology, geology, history and also on eyewitness and anecdotal accounts— that indicates that we have always shared our planet with one or more hidden civilizations of an advanced nature, which are generally inimical, parasitical, or indifferent to humanity.
Is it feasible that the alleged aliens that occupy historical and contemporary mythology are flesh-and-blood human-like creatures that live right here on Earth? Not another version of Earth in some parallel Cosmos, but our Earth.
A lynchpin of the CTH is that at least some of the more remarkable abilities displayed by reported aliens are in fact subterfuge—immersive fictional scenarios staged to convince us we must be dealing with beings from another star system. Vallee and Keel have, of course, argued much the same thing. But both have maintained (unnecessarily, in my opinion) that the beings must hail from somewhere else—not outer space, but an unseen realm that makes the outer space option seem almost preferable.
Needless to say, today’s ufological pundits have decided to stick with the ETH. Sure, it’s weird and by no means offers a holistic understanding of the phenomenon it purports to explain, but at least it makes sense in light of our own technological trajectory. After all, we’ve visited space (albeit briefly); the ETH has the overall appearance of a logical extrapolation.
The CTH is a synthesis. In keeping with the “nuts and bolts” tradition, it incorporates what we know about our planet and its biology and arrives at a prospective anthropology of the “other.” It eschews interstellar travel in favor of beings that may not be nearly as alien as we’ve been conditioned to expect—by the media and (as I argue) by the UFO intelligence itself.
The Cryptoterrestrial Hypothesis has met with mixed reactions. Some Forteans seem to think I’m onto something. Most UFO researchers are, at best, extremely skeptical.
Others think I’m parroting John Keel’s “superspectrum,” a variation on the “parallel worlds” theme that in turn shares memes with Jacques Vallee’s “multiverse.” Both ideas suggest that we somehow occupy dimensional space with our “alien” visitors, doing away with the need for extraterrestrial spacecraft while helping explain the sense of absurdity that accompanies many UFO and occupant sightings.
Keel and Vallee have both ventured essentially “occult” ideas in cosmological terms; both the “superspectrum” and the “multiverse” require a revision of our understanding of the way reality itself works. But the Cryptoterrestrial Hypothesis is grounded in a more familiar context; I’m not suggesting unseen dimensions or the need for ufonauts to “downshift” to our level our consciousness. And while I can’t automatically exclude the UFO phenomenon’s “paranormal” aspects, I can attempt to explain them in technological terms. (For example, I see no damning theoretical reason why “telepathy” and “dematerialization” can’t ultimately be explained by appealing to cybernetics, nanotechnology, and other fields generally excluded from ufological discourse.)
Ironically enough, the CTH manages to alienate champions of the ETH and those who support a more esoteric, “interdimensional” explanation. It offers no clearcut reconciliation. It does, however, wield explanatory potential lacking in both camps.
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One question that hasn’t escaped me is how, if we’re sharing the planet with indigenous “aliens,” the worsening of the biosphere will impact any potential relationship with our secretive neighbors. If they’re physical, as I think they are, they stand to suffer greatly if (for example) a human-induced climate disaster sets the Amazon rainforest ablaze . . . or do they?
Perhaps the cryptoterrestrials have taken precautionary measures. Persistent reports of underground bases raise the admittedly alarming possibility that the CTs are subterranean. Even descriptions of the beings themselves almost invariably include reference to large eyes—which proponents of the Extraterrestrial Hypothesis interpret as an evolutionary advantage for life on planets with diminished sunlight. But large eyes would be equally useful for beings acclimated to tunnels and caverns. Maybe the CTs, having constructed effective “bunkers,” are content to let humans continue in their heedless destruction of the planet.
But then there are the scenes of global cataclysm shown to abductees. Some researchers are understandably wary of viewing these as literal forecasts of the future and see them instead as educational demonstrations. If so, it’s plausible that the CTs are attempting to hasten ecological awareness—and in the process giving away a grave secret: that they aren’t the sagely, omniscient beings whose role they so often adopt. Their technological wizardry might not be akin to magic. They might actually need us to keep Earth’s environment sustainable just as they may need us for our genes—and likely for the same ultimate reason: the cultivation of an ever-adaptive race whose abilities are beyond our own yet perfectly fallible.
Gray aliens on the brain? That’s likely what you’ll get.
That’s not to say the Grays are the only comprehensible form instigated by “faery energy”—only that the ambient intelligence is quick to attach itself to whatever archetype fits the bill at any given moment. Visions of dead people, religious epiphanies, and poltergeist phenomena are equally possible outcomes.
But the intelligence behind the facade might not be native to our planet; maybe we’re dealing with a psychological symbiot
e that’s been re-engineering the noosphere for hundreds of thousands of years, laying groundwork for a project that’s only know beginning to reveal itself . . .
*
While I can readily imagine a subterranean civilization of nonhumans, I find the idea that intelligent beings could evolve there unlikely. Secluding themselves in underground “bases” might be a relatively recent event, timed to avoid a mutually catastrophic run-in with Homo sapiens.
Caverns and tunnels repeatedly crop up in the alien contact literature. Witnesses sometimes describe lavish below-ground installations teeming with beings that may or may not be related to humans. This is certainly compatible with the idea that our “visitors” have been here at least as long as recorded history, spared the toxic excesses of known civilization. In effect, they could inhabit an immense fallout shelter, having foreseen our own demise and taken elaborate precautions.
The apparent need for genetic material might indicate the creation of an interim “occupying force” of passable hybrids, a scenario explored in David Jacobs’ The Threat.
The CTH doesn’t necessarily entail a global civilization of nonhumans. In fact, I find the possibility that the cryptoterrestrials have managed to remain socially intact throughout the millennia especially tenuous. Witness reports and common sense alike point toward a more likely scenario: that the CTs are wildly variant, at different levels of sophistication. While in possession of remarkable abilities—not the least of which is the capacity for stealth—some CT communities might even qualify as “primitive” in some respects.
Some CTs appear eminently comfortable among technologies that, historically, seem just beyond the human state-of-the-art. The pilots of the “mystery airships” of the 1890s, for example, seemed to have anticipated our own dominion of the air at least as capably as Jules Verne. Betty Hill’s eerily accurate description of amniocentesis has been cited as another case of “alien” technology seen in action before its widespread implementation in the human realm. Again, this isn’t what we would expect of an arbitrarily capable extraterrestrial civilization. Rather, it suggests a technology surprisingly like our own, another indication that the beings’ casual allusions to outer space should be taken with a dose of healthy skepticism. (Although we shouldn’t presume that some CTs haven’t succeeded in gaining a foothold in space, making them a novel kind of ET. Maybe the term “post-terrestrial” best describes this offshoot.)
Unfortunately, reports of technologically savvy entities have all-but eclipsed equally credible reports of less sophisticated beings. After all, advanced beings promise a welcoming future, if only indirectly. If we should detect a genuine extraterrestrial civilization, whether through an instrumented search like SETI or via direct visitation, hopes for our own continued existence stand to reap enormous rewards. Consequently, we yearn for “others” who are both wiser and more capable.
The attractive human-like “aliens” who contacted the likes of George Adamski and Howard Menger in the middle of the 20th century were hailed as veritable messiahs, their disdain for reckless atomic experimentation reiterated in the fiction of the day. To a somewhat lesser extent, today’s Grays—though harsher and more pragmatic than their glamorous predecessors—convey the same message, exposing their subjects to scenes that appear to predict impending apocalypse.
In a world suffering from pronounced greenhouse effects and record-breaking extinctions, these images couldn’t come at a more opportune time. Either the CTs are studiously exploiting our deepest fears as part of some far-ranging psychological experiment or their concerns are quite real. But is it our world they care about or their own? The existence of “primitive” CT communities leaves us no choice but to willfully deflate our confidence in the Extraterrestrial Hypothesis—especially when the gross resemblances of the alleged ETs to humans are so pronounced.
For example, I have a reliable first-hand report of “little people” at large in the American Northwest. My source encountered a small congregation of these beings in a wooded area. Human-like in all essential respects, the beings were nevertheless small, like normal people in miniature. Although the encounter was brief, my source was able to glean some important information. The “little people” claimed to predate known North American cultures and possessed their own language. As in so many other accounts of meetings with ufonauts or “paranormal” entities, they appeared Asian, again inviting speculation that they originate from a “lost” community that has opted for a peripheral role, effectively hidden from the mainstream.
According to the beings’ spokesman, they remain hidden largely by virtue of our narrow perceptual focus, even able to pass among us disguised as children. Supposedly they lead an almost hobo-like existence, without recourse to the sort of technology associated with UFOs.
While this all sounds innocuous enough, my source qualified his story by stating that he felt that his meeting had been arranged not so much for his benefit as for theirs—an unsettling idea that brings to mind a surveillance program of potentially epic scope. Abductees sometimes report visits by curious human-seeming interlopers, or even symptoms consistent with electronic eavesdropping (up to and including so-called “implants,” but just as often strange hissing on the telephone or the sudden onset of “electrosensitivity,” rendering witnesses unable to operate delicate electronics). One abductee I know is plagued by seemingly sourceless beeping—a phenomenon encountered as early as the famous Hill abduction.
If I’m correct and “down to Earth” cryptoterrestrials and “ETs” are aspects of the same phenomenon, we should expect certain parallels. Moreover, we should never believe what the others tell us without taking into account their obvious need for secrecy. One may argue that the mere fact that they initiate open contact with humans at all reeks of misdirection, and perhaps that’s the point. But they could just as easily genuinely need a network of human contacts, a foothold in our world to fall back on in times of crisis.
If nomadic CTs are forced to adopt a marginal role in our world, it’s unlikely they have easy access to the communications infrastructure we take for granted; maybe it’s no coincidence that my source is a computer programmer. Or the truth could be markedly less conspiratorial. Maybe they simply crave a sympathetic ear. And if they can successfully masquerade as children and homeless people, why exclude the occasional “pop-in” visit?
CHAPTER 10
Among Us
I’m drawn to first-person stories of perceived encounters with nonhumans. Among them, I found this recollection by Kartott especially notable:
… when I was 17, I was working in a small convenience store, when a “woman” came in to buy cigarettes. At first I didn’t pay any attention to her until I saw her hand (when she handed me the money)—it was not like a normal human hand. This startled me so I looked up and saw a very pale entity, wearing a thin black coat (like a rain coat) with collar turned up to cover her neck, a heavy long haired wig, and very large black glasses. This did not entirely hide her strange face: a very pointed chin, scant lip and nose. She did not speak. Took her cigarettes and left! I was kinda stunned. Oddly I cannot remember the details of her hand (though it was the first thing I noticed). Nor do I think she left in a car which was odd since most patrons drove up the store (it was somewhat isolated).
Kartott provided more details of the cigarette lady in a later post:
….whether this entity is a “gray” or a “hybrid,” I can only guess. I have never seen what is described as a classic gray alien. Perhaps “hybrid” is most fitting simply because there seems to be some variety of attributes associated with this general category; i.e. that do not fit perfectly with the classic gray alien type (size of head being foremost).
Some details that I do recall with some clarity:
First, her skin: it was very pale, white with an almost bluish-gray tint to it, and of an unusually smooth texture. I have never seen anything like it before or since. I had previously seen an albino person; it was nothing like that; i.e., her
skin was not UN-pigmented though there was an almost translucent quality to it.
Second, her facial features: Though I could not see her eyes due to the large Jackie-O style sunglasses she wore, other aspects were evident: an unusually long pointy chin. Exaggerated cheekbones out of proportion to the rest of the face. Practically no lips, only enough to discern that there was any mouth. A nose that was almost not there: there was very little structure to it, a small bridge area, and some structure around the nostrils, but not much.
Finally, her neck: though her coat collar was turned up, I could see some of the neck which was oddly thin.
The wig (obviously such: a long thick dishwater blonde mane made of cheap imitation hair easily obtainable at a k-mart in those days) seemed placed to hide other features of the head, so I cannot comment on these (ears, shape of head).
It puzzles me why I cannot recall her hand. Perhaps because it was what most startled me at first. The only thing I can relate to this lack of recall to is a nasty car accident I had years later: afterwards I completely blanked out the memory of the worst part of the accident (the part when it was occurring). I asked my doctor about this and was told that it was not uncommon for the human brain to “forget” traumatic or difficult events. I can only surmise the initial part of the encounter with the cigarette lady falls into this category.
There were no other people in the store. I was alone. It was afternoon. The year of this encounter was 1974, possibly 1975 (I worked both summers between high school and college, and between my 1st and 2nd years of college); but most likely 1974. The location was an area south of St. Louis, Missouri. I felt no lingering psychological effect from this encounter that I am aware of, other than extreme puzzlement (and the blocked memory of her hand). As to whether this changed me, I don’t know
