Phobos

by Steve Alten

  W. Louis McDonald (ret.)

  GOLDEN FLEECE

  Balam starship: Excavated September 2013 MJ-12 photo 13-GF-71

  Existence and extermination have one thing in common—they are both subject to the law of cause and effect.

  —PROFESSOR JULIUS GABRIEL, AUGUST 24, 2001

  PART 2

  THE EFFECT

  The countdown to “D-day” has started. Our group has been preparing for LHC [Large Hadron Collider] data for many years now and we are all truly excited about the prospect of finally getting a glimpse of whatever surprises Nature has in store for us.

  —DR. PEDRO TEIXEIRA-DIAS,

  LEADER OF THE ATLAS GROUP

  AT ROYAL HOLLOWAY,

  UNIVERSITY OF LONDON

  The Final Papers of Julius Gabriel, PhD

  Cambridge University archives

  AUGUST 23, 2001

  Phobos: a Greek term, translated as “morbid fear.”

  Fear: a state of mind, inducing anxiety. The trepidation preceding an unwanted outcome. Fear is the mind-killer that disrupts the higher aspects of brain activity, overruling common sense.

  It has been argued that modern man suffers from six basic phobias: Fear of poverty. Fear of old age. Loss of love. Criticism. Poor health. And, of course, our most overwhelming fear—fear of death.

  My name is Julius Gabriel. I am an archaeologist, a scientist who investigates humanity’s past in search of the truth. Truth is the light that eliminates the darkness induced by fear. Conversely, lies are the weapons of darkness, designed to spread fear.

  What you are about to read is the culmination of more than half a century of research that reveals startling truths about man’s existence, our intended purpose, and our prophesied demise. The evidence that follows has never been made public, for to do so would have violated a dozen nondisclosure agreements that would have resulted in my incarceration and very likely a quiet execution made to look like a suicide—ramifications rendered moot following a recent visit to my cardiologist.

  In truth, my decision to finally go public with these papers was based more on anger than my own intended exit strategy. I am sickened by an illegal and unconstitutional black ops program that exists solely to empower and enrich members of the military industrial complex and the fossil fuel industry. These pseudo-emperors have committed high treason against our entire species. They have lied to Congress and continue to operate outside the bounds of the Constitution of the United States, thereby voiding the previously mentioned nondisclosure agreements. Worse, they have murdered one president, disrupted the administration of another, and have refused to be held accountable by any office, though they are funded with an annual budget that exceeds $100 billion. In order to preserve their secrets, they have killed people of fame and fortune and innocent bystanders alike, and have orchestrated false flag events that have led to wars. Of most importance to mankind’s future, they covet and have bottlenecked advanced technologies in the field of energy and propulsion that would not only provide free endless power for all but avert a looming global catastrophe.

  To ensure the survival of their “Ivory Towers of Power” they are prepared to unleash a final false flag event that will lead to planetary fear and eventually the weaponization of space. Before that happens, or perhaps as a result, every living being on this planet shall die.

  Am I being overly dramatic? Keep reading and you too will know what real fear is.

  Within these pages I am going to reveal everything to you, the good, the bad, and the mind-boggling truth—from the very secrets of existence that predate the Big Bang to the big bang that shall eradicate our species. In the process, you will come to understand that the universe is not what it seems, nor is human existence, and that this ticking clock of physicality that begins at conception and terminates with our final breath is neither the end nor the beginning, but an elaborate ruse constructed by our Creator … as a test.

  And we are failing miserably.

  Judgment Day is coming, and we have reaped this destruction upon ourselves. Greed, corruption, hatred, selfishness … most of all sheer ignorance—all brought about by the one human weakness that continues to define and poison our species even as it lures us toward the precipice of our very demise: our ego.

  The pages you are about to read will unveil forty years of lies and deception, but do not covet the truth: enlightenment comes with a price. Seed the information to the four winds, be the cause of your own hard-won salvation. For what hangs in the balance is nothing less than a fate prophesied by every ancient civilization and every major religion … the End of Days.

  Phobos: fear.

  Fear is the elephant in the living room. To overcome the mind paralysis of fear, you must master it, you must, in a sense, consume it. But how can one consume something as large as an elephant?

  The answer, of course, is one digestible bite at a time.

  To digest the Doomsday Event requires that I not only deliver the facts but that I do so in their proper context lest you dismiss this document as merely a work of fiction—a source of entertainment. It is neither! Question the author; take nothing within these pages for granted. Research every fact. Cross-reference any statement and every conclusion that draws your ire. Only then will your mind begin to accept the truth; only then will you realize that there are evil entities lurking in the shadows playing with matches, and unless you open your eyes and act they will incinerate the world.

  Like it or not, accept it or not, a Doomsday Event is coming. How can I be so sure? Because, dear reader, the event has already happened! Even more bizarre—some of you reading these very words were there to witness the end.

  Confused? So was I, until I stopped thinking like a third-dimensional creature trapped by my own perception of linear time and unraveled the truth.

  Before you render a verdict, allow me to present my case.

  As previously stated, I am an archaeologist. In 1969, having earned my doctorate degree from Cambridge University, I set out on a journey of discovery, motivated more by curiosity than fear. My inspiration was the Mayan calendar, a two-thousand-year-old instrument of time and space that predicted humanity’s reign to end on December 21, 2012.

  Doomsday.

  Let us pause a quick moment and make that forkful of elephant meat more digestible. A calendar, by definition, is a device used to measure time, in this case the amount of time it takes for our planet to revolve once around the sun. Somehow a society of jungle-dwelling Indians managed to create an instrument of time and space that, despite being 1,500 years older than our modern-day Gregorian calendar, remains one ten-thousandth of a day more accurate.

  The Mayan calendar is a device composed of three cogged wheels operating in a fashion similar to the gears of a clock, plus a fourth calendar—the Long Count—which details twenty-year epochs, called katuns. Each katun is a prophecy in its own right, detailing happenings on Earth in accordance with the astrological ebb and flow of the cosmos.

  The Doomsday Event is aligned with precession. Precession is the slow wobble of our planet on its axis. It takes the Earth 25,800 years to complete one cycle of precession—the exact amount of time that defines the Mayan calendar’s five great cycles, the current and last one terminating on the day of 4 Ahau, 3 Kankin—the winter solstice of 2012.

  How were the Maya, a race of Indians who never mastered the wheel, able to create such an advanced scientific instrument that prophesied events over thousands, perhaps millions of katuns? How were they able to plot our precise position in the cosmos, comprehend concepts like dark matter, or fathom the existence of the black hole at the center of our galaxy? Most important: how were the ancient Maya able to describe events that had yet to happen?

  The simplistic answer is they couldn’t. In reality, it was their two mysterious leaders who possessed the knowledge.

  The first was the great Mayan teacher, Kukulcan, who came to the Yucatan Peninsula a thousand years ago. Described as a tall Caucasian man with
silky white hair, a matching beard, and intense azure-blue eyes, this “messenger of love” who preached against the blood sacrifice remains a paradox of existence, for not only does his knowledge of science and astronomy dwarf our own, but his presence in Mesoamerica predates the arrival of the first white explorers (invaders) to the Americas by five hundred years.

  Still convinced you are reading fiction? Travel to the Yucatan and visit Chichen Itza. Harbored within this long-lost Mayan city is the Kukulcan Pyramid, a perfect ziggurat of stone, stained with the blood of ten thousand human sacrifices intended to stave off doomsday in the wake of the great teacher’s passing. Ninety-one steps adorn each of the temple’s four sides; add the summit platform and you have three hundred sixty-five, as in the days of the year. Arrive on the fall or spring equinox and you’ll witness the appearance of a serpent’s shadow on the northern balustrade, a thousand-year-old special effect constructed to warn modern man of the cataclysm to come.

  The second mysterious Mayan was Chilam Balam, the greatest prophet in Mesoamerican history. Chilam is the title bestowed upon a priest who gives prophecies, Balam translates as jaguar. The Jaguar Prophet was born in the Yucatan in the late 1400s and is known for his nine books of prophecies—one of which foretold the coming of strangers from the east who would “establish a new religion.”

  In 1519, Cortés and his invading Spanish armada arrived in the Yucatan, armed with guns, priests, and Bibles, just as Chilam Balam had prophesied.

  Though he is not credited for it, I strongly suspect Chilam Balam to be the author of the Mayan Popol Vuh, the Mesoamerican equivalent of the Bible, at the heart of which is the Mayan creation story. Much like the Old Testament, the Popol Vuh’s stories contain historical mythology that strains the boundaries of credibility. Like our own Judeo-Christian Bible, the Mayan creation story was never intended to be taken literally (more on that later). Instead, it was encrypted with an ancient knowledge that unveils the truth about mankind’s future and past.

  Following decades of work, I managed to decode the Mayan creation story. And therein lies yet another paradox, for the deciphered text reveals incredible details regarding Homo sapiens’s mysterious ascension as an intelligent force of nature—only the evolutionary events described in the Popol Vuh took place millions of years ago!

  In archaeology, we call this a paradox. In layman’s terms, one might call it a déjà vu. By definition, déjà vu is the uneasy feeling that one has witnessed or experienced a new situation previously—as if the event has already happened.

  It has.

  As incredible as it sounds, I have discovered that our physical universe is caught within a temporal time loop that begins and ends with our destruction on the winter solstice of 2012, and the very instrument that once more shall be responsible for the Doomsday Event has been constructed on our watch—

  —funded by our tax dollars.

  —JG

  Note:

  Professor Gabriel’s final papers were subsequently banned from publication or public review as per ruling of the Massachusetts superior court (Borgia v. Gabriel estate; Hon. Judge Thomas Cubit presiding). The Cambridge University archaeology department petitioned and received the papers following Professor Gabriel’s death on August 24, 2001, and his son Michael’s incarceration at the Bridgewater State mental facility for the criminally insane. The Pentagon successfully appealed the ruling to the British courts, who ordered the papers sealed and not to be reviewed. They remained archived until 2032.

  1

  2047

  (Thirty-five years after the prophesied

  Doomsday Event)

  ATLANTIC OCEAN

  107 NAUTICAL MILES SOUTHWEST OF BERMUDA

  (BERMUDA TRIANGLE)

  APRIL 16, 2047

  Displacing 130,000 tons, the cruise ship Paradise Lost knifes through the deep blue waters of the Atlantic, its twin propellers churning a quarter-mile-long foamy trail. A thousand feet long, with a 120-foot beam that supports thirteen guest decks, the ocean liner is powered by the latest in NiCE (Nonpolluting i-Combustion Engineering) system design. Replacing the old steam-driven turbines (a gallon of fuel for every fifty feet of propulsion), the ship’s turbines draw power from the primary phase of the NiCE system—a five-megawatt solar plant. Occupying an acre of upper deck space in the stern is a water tower, surrounded by seventeen hundred rotating solar mirrors. As sunlight strikes the mirrors, the magnified heat is redirected to the tower and its built-in boiler, raising internal temperatures to a superhot 875 degrees Fahrenheit. The generated steam is used to turn twin turbines located in the engine room, driving the ship’s propellers.

  Phase two of the NiCE system kicks in once the boat is under way. Smokestacks that once belched toxic plumes of carbon dioxide have been replaced by wind turbines. As the ocean liner moves forward, these towering lightbulb-shaped blades capture the steady supply of wind, converting the kinetic energy into enough electricity to power every device on the floating hotel.

  Like all cruise ships, Paradise Lost is first and foremost a pleasure boat. Inside the massive craft, virtual reality suites augment the boat’s five-star restaurants, Broadway-caliber shows, and casinos. Outside, the six open-air decks are dominated by “hydro-leisure activities,” at the center of which are two cascading waterfalls that churn a lazy river, rapids, and pit stops at open buffets.

  For guests preferring something a bit more sedentary, “smart chairs” are situated around the lagoon and adult-only privacy areas. Designed to levitate eight inches above a grated deck that generates a maglev (magnetic levitation) cushion, these lounge chairs not only are luxurious but also eliminate seasickness. Rollers and robotic fingers housed within the chairs’ microfiber cushions deliver everything from a soothing massage to deep-tissue shiatsu. Dial up the chair’s “body spritzer” and one can cool off with a pure water mist or, for an additional fee, apply a vitamin-rich emollient (dermal dips having eliminated the need for SPF lotion applications a decade earlier).

  For the 2,400 passengers aboard the Paradise Lost, the eight-day roundtrip cruise from Fort Lauderdale to Bermuda is paradise found.

  The privacy decks surrounding Dolphin Lagoon are filled to capacity—five hundred passengers stretch out on lounge chairs, drifting in and out of consciousness while they await the next cattle call for first dinner.

  Jennifer Ventrice lies on her back facing the late afternoon sun, her assigned recliner situated between the starboard rail and the lazy river. The seventy-three-year-old Brooklyn native is awake, watching an opti-vision movie projected inside her wraparound i-glasses. Despite her sensory comforts, Jennifer is nervous. It has been fourteen years since she and her husband were forced to flee the United States, and though her passport and embedded smart chip reflect her new identity, she knows her spouse’s enemies have long tentacles and other “less conventional” means of tracking them down.

  Relax, Eve. You already made it through international checkpoints in London and Miami without any problem, security in Bermuda should be—

  No! She clenches her eyes shut, the self-scolding inflection causing the movie to pause. It’s Jennifer, not Eve. Jennifer … Jennifer!

  She powers off the movie, momentarily blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the ocean until the smart lenses adjust their tint. This was all Dave’s fault. Why couldn’t he have allowed me to use my real first name as an alias? Didn’t he realize how hard it was to think of myself as anything but Eve?

  For the thousandth time she thinks back to the date—November 25, 2033—the day Evelyn Mohr ceased to exist, the day Lilith Mabus forced Evelyn’s husband and the rest of their entourage into exile. Only twenty years old at the time, the unleashed widow of the late billionaire Lucien Mabus had firmly entrenched herself as CEO of Mabus Tech Industries and its space tourism company, Project H.O.P.E. Within months, Lilith had used her newfound influence in Washington to coerce President John Zwawa into allowing MTI to take control of Golden Fleece, a covert NASA project overseen b
y Evelyn’s husband, Dave.

  What Lilith Mabus sought was access to zero-point energy, a warpdrive propulsion system that powered the extraterrestrial starship excavated back in 2013, which she hoped to use on her Mars Colony shuttles.

  What she found instead was her long-lost soul mate, Jacob Gabriel.

  Jacob and his twin brother, Immanuel, had faked their deaths years ago. Intoxicated by Lilith’s pheromones, Jacob submitted to the one act his father had expressly warned him about—copulating with his schizophrenic Hunahpu cousin.

  Jacob and his mother had left the Earth aboard the extraterrestrial starship on November 25, 2033, leaving behind Immanuel Gabriel, his two bodyguards, and the Mohrs as fugitives from Majestic-12 and Lilith Mabus. Identity changes accompanied relocations in Canada, Mexico, Honduras, and Peru, Evelyn Mohr playing the dutiful role of supportive wife while her husband continued to advise and tutor Jacob’s still-evolving dark-haired Hunahpu twin.

  Six years ago Evelyn declared she had had enough. While she understood Manny was “special,” she yearned to stay rooted and establish a life, something the earthbound twin, still filled with anger and angst, was loath to do. Dave finally relented, agreeing to leave his protégé with the two bodyguards so that he and Eve could live out their days in peace.