Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Shadow President and the Shadow Government

The motorcade pulls up in a choreographed procession that I'm now quite familiar with. Black mirror polished paint reflects the August Arizona sunshine. The existence of a shadow government that operates in its own global framework has been established thoroughly and as I watch the vehicles doors open and bodyguards emerge I wonder just how many people are aware of this shadow government.

So many secrets. Extraterrestrial life, immortality, reincarnation, the cures to all diseases of body and mind - all carefully compartmentalized away from those who most have need of this knowledge. One of the armored Yukons is surrounded by agents who then open the doors carefully and methodically. The Shadow President emerges. He walks towards me and smiles.

"It's been awhile. You look well. You lost some weight?"

"About 15 pounds. Active duty required I return to my stand-by low carb diet. Thanks for noticing. You look trim yourself."

"Yes, I've lost 25 pounds in the past year. I'm not getting any younger and this job hasn't gotten any easier."

He doesn't look that much older, but his stride and voice betray a mental weariness that is noticeable.

"I see Shamballa has been busy. This facility is much larger than it was two years ago."

"Yes, 50,000 square feet - an entire new wing - was built and helps to facilitate the increased burden over the past two years. Would you like a tour?"

"No, no...that's fine. I just wanted to be briefed on the latest developments regarding our 'neighbors'."

He turns to 4 agents who followed him inside. "If you guys would stay here, I'll be back in a short while."

The agents obey without hesitation. Unlike active Secret Service agents these guards do not have the ultimate responsibility for the Shadow President's safety and do not protest.

We walk down the antiseptically clean corridor and I open the biometric scanner with a key card. After facial and vocal recognition the elevator becomes operational and the door slides open so silently it barely whispers.

"Sub-level 10"

The elevator responds to the verbal command and we are descending rapidly into the fortified belly of Shamballa.

We emerge in a level that is filled with electromagnetic radiation proof rooms and has field generators that distort and scramble all types of visual or audio recording or transmitting devices. My key card opens up one of these conference rooms with a quick swipe and we both walk inside.

"Is Earth safe?" The President asks in earnest.

"Safe enough for now. Earth is still being overshadowed and there is no field protection. Several new worlds have taken the Earth under their wing since the invasion attempt and there is much stricter control of the space outside low Earth orbit and throughout our entire solar system. Jupiter has more tracking stations and a drone sensing base on Saturn's moon Titan is operational as well."

"What about those extraterrestrials here on Earth and what is the status of Project MIMIR?"

"There are about 1000 extraterrestrials on Earth at this time. Most come from just 3 different worlds but about a dozen or so all hail from other unique worlds - all are worlds of the Confederation."

"Any progress against the overshadowers and the field generators? You had mentioned the last time we spoke that you were hoping to erect a permanent shield from the overshadowing signals broadcast to Earth."

"That's been a problem. The Confederation will not contribute to this effort and basically are forcing us to build our own shield - if we can. Naturally, this is not something that even 2000 of the brightest graduates of MIT are going to be able to do overnight - or even within years. The timetable is now in the "decades" framework and we are hoping to have something on a small scale testable by 2023 or thereabouts."

"That's garbage. Can't it be done any faster? Money is no object you know."

"Money is not the problem. We are entering a scientific venue simply not taught in our best schools. Field science of this complexity goes way beyond vectors and Gauss and all the rest, we are talking about mapping out the human brain's magnetic field on almost every detectable level. Every signal that emerges from a brain in thought is converted into electrical energy and field action. Shielding the brain from signal interference and yet not creating interference at the same time, while trying to shield it, has been a major stumbling block."

"I see. What about your girlfriend...what's her name?"

"Yal-hune?"

"Yes...that's the one. Can't she help you design a shield?"

"No, she is of the mindset that humanity must do this on their own or they will always be dependant upon some other world and will never develop human intelligence beyond a certain point - causing stagnation. I agree with her. We have to do this ourselves. We have to be able to protect ourselves or we will always be at the mercy of more advanced worlds - and that, as you know, is not a good thing."

"I understand. How many humans are off-world right now?"

"I'm not absolutely certain...maybe 5"

Yal-hune materializes in a one-piece white bodysuit, startling us both.

"Good afternoon Mr. President."

"You must be Yal-hune. You shocked me there for a second. Do you pop in and out like this all the time?"


"Only when it is more convenient. Here I can meet with you and not be recorded or seen. It was as good a time as any for a meeting. I thought I would make clear for you the Confederation's position on Earth. We will not be assisting in any technological endeavor of any kind and will not be providing, materials, research, tools or anything that might be construed as interference in your planet's natural development."

"I see. But you will still protect the Earth from the most overt hostile acts against it?"

"Yes. We have at our core interest the independent development of humanity as it matures and can stand its own ground in the galactic neighborhood. If this takes hundreds of years or thousands of years, it makes little difference to us. Your growth and development is your affair."

"Understood."

I watch as he interfaces with Yal-hune. It's hard for anyone to concentrate on other things when Yal-hune is around. Her presence of mind is a powerful force that molds human consciousness around it. Like children around an adult, we take our cues from the most mature among us.

Yal-hune speaks to me in my mind,

"See you later."

Yal-hune disappears and I am left with that sudden sense of loss. I can tell the President feels it too. Yal-hune is a hard act to beat and once one has felt her presence, it is not quickly forgotten.

"She is quite a....being, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is possibly the most advanced being on this world at this time and her fundamental frequency is the highest."

"I'm going to have to visit here more often. A fellow could get used to that!"

"I know....I still can't get over her presence."

"Anything else you need to share?"

"Well, there's something I want to ask you...when do you think we will get the economy back under our control?"

"Hopefully soon. The forces against America and the west are at an all-time high and there are more traitors in positions of power than I would care to count. As a result, our maneuvers are often undone or blocked and these foreign interests are doing their best to destroy all efforts at recovery. It's also slowed because we are dealing with these threats...peacefully. I better go...down here I'm not able to be reached if needed."

We get up and exit the conference room and head back over to the elevator.

"Oh, Tech1, I wanted to invite you and Yal-hune to a formal dinner we are having with some of the world's key corporate CEOs."

"At your place?"

"It will be at the Western White House on Saturday August 28th at 8:00 PM. It's a black tie affair."

"I'm sure we'll be able to attend, thank you. Any particular reason you are inviting me?"

"An ulterior motive? Perhaps. The place will be filled with those upon whose shoulders the burden of the financial sector sets."

"I see."

We emerge from the elevator and his agents escort him to his vehicle. As he enters he calls out across the tarmac:

"Then again perhaps I just want to see Yal-hune in a formal gown."


I laugh aloud. I know all too well the after-effects of being around Yal-hune.

The human male is doomed.

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