Black 11: Has The Government Consulted Aliens?


Note: While we acknowledge that other Senior Staff members of Third Eye have assisted law enforcement agencies in their search for Ms. Leslie Shepard and the Palo Alto County Emergency Response Crew that entered the area known as Black 11, Third Eye has received information that these same Federal Agencies are being purposefully misled. Because of the following contributer's position within the twilight world of covert operations, their life is endangered by certain elements, and we dare not reveal his/her name.


Palo Alto: I see it even when I close my eyes at night: blue-black, throbbing, twitching veins of lightning writhing all along its hulking mass. The sun has not shone here for 6 months. Two officers have been removed to be treated for depression, though I have observed both of them displaying classic signs of delusional psychosis.

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Photo of the area known as Black 11 taken from 14 miles away in early June, 1996
    All of us assigned out here have been dreaming the same dreams; we see each other fighting to keep from from being engulfed by shiny, tar-like blackness; a woman's voice calls us each by name from somewhere deep with in this abyss---but one by one, we all fail and fade into darkness.

     The team has been told that the "object" has been confirmed as an experimental bio-electric polymer. My own interrogations of the two CytoQon engineers responsible for the stuff have shown that somebody knew about the cryo-reactive nature of the polymer; somebody who is now most likely dead.

     The psychological disturbances among the surviving CytoQon Security Personel have proved most useful to CINS. The object is broadcasting a psycho-reactive matrix with in a low EM band width. In isolating the precise frequencies, CINS illicited modified behavior during several 'civilian application trials' when the matrix was broadcast to enhanced recipients from rotary wing aircraft. I am fearful, however, that there will be more violence like that which will not directly be of CINS' doing.

     I have noticed among myself and other agents that as it gets colder, the dreams and sensations of unease are growing more and more intense. There are unconfirmed instances of fist-fights breaking out among our on-site support staff. If "the object" continues to thrive in cold environment, then northern Iowa is definitly not the place to have such a thing during the winter. It is feasible that its power output within the psycho-reactive matrix range will grow by a factor of 3 million when the temperature dips below -10 degrees farenheit. CINS estimates indicate that only 10% of the population within an area including Minneapolis, St. Louis, and Chicago may survive the induced violence.

     I am cautiously optimistic; I am including myself.

     Because of exposure, the team is confined to the area until end game.

     The team made the recomendation that the "outside" Observers be consulted. I assumed the Observers would gather the information via satellite, but I was astounded when word filtered through that their evaluation was to be on-site.

     I have never seen one of the Observers. I had no idea I was about to meet four of them, either. But CINS informed the team via secure channel that their safety and status was our responsibility. And just at that time, however, Shepherd's voice started breaking up cell phones in the area, which only attracted more attention from the fringe press.

     Since was in CINS' had for along time been interested in infiltration for monitoring purposes, three publications were allowed limited access into the area (one naturally being Third Eye as it was their reporter who was missing) under the guise of assisting local law enforcement. That operation was restricted need to know basis; our team was not included. As such, submitting this report has been very dangerous and I have had to construct certain contingencies.

     The information CINS authorized for release, though, was genuine; and the authentication of Shepard's voice disturbed the team. Because of the deaths among CytoQon's clumsy security efforts at the onset, we accepted the fact that she was also dead. Now, the possibility of her being alive sickened us. Night after night after night, we hear her voice. We have all come to believe the dreams are real, and that we are all bound together far more intimately than is safe given our profession. In fact, it is all sensation; but a very dangerous sensation never the less.

     The Observers were to arrive inside the perimeter on 24 October at 18:00 hours via ground. The rest of the way in, nearly 10 kilometers, would have to be walked because the object's EM bursts destroyed vehicle electrical systems. The driver had been briefed not to be curious about the contents in the back of the van and I am of the opinion, he obeyed his orders. Unfortunately, CINS had directed that his silence be insured by our team in the usual method. Following the inspection, his replacement would be drawn from the ranks of our support staff. He would convey the Observers to a destination where another team would insure his silence in usual method.

     At exactly 18:00 hours, the van arrived at the meeting, some 100 meters with in the perimeter. The driver got out, was told to kneel with his fingers interlocked behind his head and shot once in the temple. We opened the back door of the van.

     They are much taller then I expected; almost by a foot. Their eyes were black and almond shaped, their heads slightly distended, their fingers were quite long while their mouths were small-one of them had the nasty habit of grinding his teeth. I think we were snubbed from the first as they slowly climbed out of the vehicle, bringing a black padded satchel with them. One went and examined the wound in the dead driver's head with disturbing intensity. The blood still pumped out, steaming in the chill night. It prodded the wound with a long gray finger and then rubbed the blood between thumb and forefinger. The others watched silently. In short order, they started making their way steadily towards the object.

     We were dumbfounded. But quickly shook it off and strode after them. Several times, they stopped and pointed to different lightning bursts flashing down the sides of the object. One removed a long gray rod from the padded bag and held it up. Lights danced along it and a vague orange glowing ball enveloped them. They moved on.

     We stopped. While our orders were to guarrantee their safety, it was clear to us that in all likelihood, we were the ones in danger. We shrugged our shoulders, girded our loins, and tramped after them, trying to stay as close as we dared.

     The Observers had walked about three kilometers when burst of lightning roared down the object towards them. We hit dirt in cold fear. The vague orange ball surrounding them blazed brilliant yellow as the lightning's fingers grabbed and clawed over its surface. Suddenly, it relented and withdew. They moved steadily onwards.

     After a few more meters, there came another strike which clawed and groped their protective field as before to no avail. But as soon as the strike disapated, three sputtering balls of lightning emerged from the top of the object and approached. The sight was too much for one of the team, he suddenly stood up and ran. He took only a few steps when a single bolt of blue flashed from one ball of lightning and sliced him in half, setting his body aflame.

     The balls circled the Observers, sending out faint blue bolts against the Observer's protective energy barrier. The Observers ignored the balls and pressed on. I don't know why the balls left us alone; maybe the Observers were more interesting, we were too easily destroyed. What ever the reason, we crept cautiously after our charges, hoping somehow they might save us.

     Unfortunately, we scarcely went another fifty feet when we all just stopped cold in our tracks held by the same horrific sensations that torment us in our dreams. The team hugged the ground, some cried out loud bawling like infants. Hundreds of jabbering, indistinct voices filled our minds, raging to an unbearable clamor. Suddenly, we were at each other's throats, punching and clawing one another in the face. The voices drove us on, kicking and scratching. Something hard hit me in the head, I dropped to the ground. Blood filled my mouth.

     I came to leaning against the front wheel of the van. It was morning, but the sky was still a tumbling mass of black, angry clouds. The first face I recognized looked with unflinching black eyes into my own.

     I recoiled. The Observer stood up and joined his fellows. The rest of the team was standing around, decorated with bruised faces, bloody mouths, and stained clothes. I got to my feet. The Observers, seemingly satisfied we were all right, climbed back into the back of the van and closed the door. It was time to go.

     A week ago it filtered down that CINS had received some new information, possibly from the Observers. My team hasn't been included in the loop, so we don't yet know our eventual fate. In the mean time, we wait and watch-and try not to dream.





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