(Copyright David A. Kearns)
October 1, 2014 Mall of the Americas, Camaguey Cuba – Tim Stanton walked by the Savante Kiosk and shook his head. There was nothing he could do but watch as a group of high school teenagers signed up for implant plans on their government credit cards.
They were complete mobile direct systems, just like those given to on-the-go, adult corporate executives back in the United States; with a few web roots blocked for content deemed contrary to the state of course.
The Marchista government had decided to open lines of credit for all of Cuba’s young people so they too could benefit from this wonderful technology. If you were between the ages of fourteen and thirty-five, your system was bought and paid for by the new government.
Savante’s basic system did have GPS but the full wireless package was only available to a select thousand or so students who could prove excellent academic achievement. The interesting part of that plan is that it culled weaker students away from full access to content that would eventually allow those thousand to rule the rising government. Tim knew this.
Savante was everywhere now. What had started out as a convenience for home, office and car, was now wired directly into your brain and given GPS so that you were located anywhere on the planet at anytime. The freedom you gave up was – according to the advertisement – more than compensated for, by the new trend called “bubbling.”
The term was coined, as these things often happen, by some geek in a lab who watched as the first humans were linked up to this wireless neural network by means of an implant chip - slid between the skin and bone just behind the left ear - and began pointing, talking, moving documents and windows around in front of them with their fingertips.
The neural desktop, which, of course was a holographic presentation in the mind of the user, made the recipient seem like a garden-variety patient at a mental psych ward. They just sat, or stood there, typing on keys that weren’t there, laughing and chatting with no one, executing, sending files into the net, answering emails, all the while seemingly alone and with only the air they were breathing held within their hands. They “bubbled;” percolated like insane little coffee pots. As they got good at it, their motions grew more frantic and giddy.
The network made use of and interacted with brainwaves and neuromuscular responses as a means to open the simulated desktop, in translucent fashion, before the eyes of the recipient.
The system was pioneered by Carlos Mercado, the mercurial genius of Savante Systems Inc. The man who gave us home Smartlife Systems.
“Bubbling becomes your house, your car, your job…you life!” was his pitch.
Back in the states, the activity was already forming its own pseudo-language, the way texting did back in the early 2000s.
“Free-bubbling” was the term for conducting personal business while on the clock.
“My boss is on the net looking for Free-bubblers. I can’t chat, bye!”
Bubble pop-ups, and spam interrupted the flow of business; everything from Amber Alerts to NOAA weather reports to deals on frequent flier discounts jumped up into your field of vision unbidden – just like they did on regular desktops back in the 1990s – prompting cries for government regulations on the whole bubbling phenomenon.
Sons and daughters of wealthy GenXers now went to Bubble-Raves where neural enhancers, alcohol, designer drugs and thrash-hop music ran awash with channeled and programmed images from the net; blurring the lines between reality and virtual. Salon.com was already calling them “Generation Bubble.”
This was what the Marchista government wanted now for their best and brightest students. It didn’t seem to go with the whole idea of the on-going “revoluccion!” that Castro had championed; but then, that concept was so watered down now, no one cared to notice, thought Tim. As long as it remained military, with the threat of violence, interspersed with moments of vitriol spewed at the neighboring United States, and yes, there were plenty of channels for that on the net.
Tim’s cell phone whirred to life.
“Stanton,” he said.
“Tim it’s Gary Malone,” came the familiar voice from childhood.
“What’s up, Gare?”
“Remember all those reports of schizophrenia that were unexplained?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well Jay and I have been doing some digging through the documents we received from our friends.”
There was code in the mix here, Tim knew it. He was referring to the last time they had caught government agents intentionally “cranking”: setting up a hoax scenario with regard to UFOs only to debunk it later. Jay Malone had become quite good chasing down leads for MUFON. It had become his specialty. Now when ‘Our friends’ were caught doing it, they could be blackmailed to reveal intelligence documents, some of which were real. Here came another one.
“You’re not going to …”
“I bet I will anymore,” Tim said.
“Alright, then take a look on your Blackberry. Here it comes,” he said.
“Okay I pulled up the PDF, what am I looking at…”
Quantum corruptions – in interstellar travel and, seemingly paradoxically, as one is traveling toward and area of higher gravitational density from lower gravity, one slows down with regard to one’s relative self. Just as a wave breaks upon the shore causing the back of the wave to heave itself over the front, one finds bits and pieces of oneself already extant in a spot before one arrives. The event – wherein cause is preceded by the effect – displaces or bumps, pieces of the traveler entity itself out of the space- time continuum. These nicks in the mass structure have been demonstrated to reduce the associated weight of the traveler to a miniscule degree. It is only one form of quantum corruption and a very simplified view of the phenomenon. At the cellular level, where the damage is not visibly apparent, the long-lasting effects, particularly in the reproductive outcome can be catastrophic for a species. These corruptions, it has been seen in later years are only mitigated by the most precise adjustments to velocity at increments approaching areas of increased gravitational density. Even so the adjustments do not always mitigate the problem which can persist at the molecular level and remain hidden for some weeks, months or even years to come.
Compounding this are repeated episodes of space travel at near light or post light velocities. The traveler in effect becomes a sort of petris dish of multi quantum corruptions.
“Gare, we’ve known about quantum corruptions and DNA reversal for some time. They didn’t give you anything new,” Tim said.
“Read on, Tim…”
Causal quantum psychosis (aka temporal distortion sickness) The wave phenomenon has many analogues in the quantum world involving the effects of interstellar travel, not the least of which is Temporal Distortion Sickness. Eddies, crenulations and whirlpools caused by the arrival in space time of an interstellar traveler, moving at light speed plus, has produced the feeling of déjà vu and other strange mental distortions in both the traveler and those near him. The effects can range from a mild feeling of déjà vu to psychic powers to raging psychosis brought on by the hall of mirrors effect of seeing and knowing instantly many or all possible outcomes surrounding a single event or series of events. The latter has also been called a “quantum embolism” Its effects are always devastating and permanent. The cause of course is the result of the folding and whirling of space-time to such an extent, eddies in the flow impact those near someone who has arrived from plus light-speed travel. These whirls can follow the arrivee for days, sometimes even months after. They tend to disrupt normal brain function and heighten psychic abilities at the background level. The malady is distinct from a form of quantum/space-time corruption called temporal shift distortion; wherein the sufferer, those typically in very long or high intensity space-travel environment, i.e. multi-phased light speed and plus light speed shifts, has returned to find different cause and effects results than were predicated at the jump-off point. Circumstances, from the sufferer’s point of view, have changed such that their perception of past events leading to the jump off are slightly or markedly different than those whom he or she left behind. This is a quasi-relativistic effect with no known cure in that it may indeed be based in an alteration of the traveler’s fundamental reality and not merely his brain function or perception.
“This is interesting Gary. Any idea where it comes from?” Tim said.
“It has the look and feel of a government study,” he said, haltingly. He didn’t want to go further on an open line.
“Gotcha. Lemme think about it and see what we can come up with as a CM,” Tim said.
“Right-oh, I’ll be on the landline,” Gary finished.
“Tim Out,” Tim said and hung up.
Countermeasures, everything the government did, or did not do, everything the “visitors” did or did not do, had to have countermeasures.
Sometimes the government leaked stuff to Tim’s little group to see if they had thought of anything with regard to a phenomenon. This was done through a semi-trusted source who had been caught in the Florida swamps making newspaper UFOs by the hundreds. Low tech to the extreme, the story was later debunked: just kids. They never explained of course how four thirteen year olds from Kissimmee had managed to create and light five hundred of these things one night all at precisely the same moment to maximize the visibility of the effect. No one in the mainstream media ever asked the right questions, but a source was borne when Jay tracked it down anyway.
Here they were looking for answers to the alarming number of schizophrenia cases seen in society these days. They were at a loss to explain it in conventional terms. Folks who had never manifested the sickness before were blowing up with end-stage type symptoms. And these weren’t bubble-ravers either; a healthy percentage of them were low-tech or no-tech folks who had never been on psychotropics.
Here was a possible answer: some were abductees, maybe, the study was seeming to hint; some of them had been in contact with abductees, it could also be inferred; some had been in close proximity to someone or some thing that had just made the arrival jump from deep space and that someone, or something, hadn’t been careful at all in staging the arrival so that all their quantum marbles, wakes and molecules arrived on time and without too much impact on current time space continuum.
That hinted that there may be intentional quantum pollution in the works: sort of like taking your speed boat through a bathing area so that you made sure you knocked over as many waders as possible with a nice three-foot wake.
It was also possible, that the visitors here, enlisted the help of human scientists behind the information curtain to explain what was happening to their crewmen. They could be, just that stupid. The more Tim considered it, he was of the opinion that quantum jumps into deep space and back again – at light speed plus, through worm holes or any combination of the two - must rot your brain from the inside out, especially if you’re not careful.
So this was the pay-off from one Carl Jorgensen, of Kissimmee, the man who had been given $5,000 and given the tools, the primer chord, fuses, and a whole shit-load of newspaper, and instructions by federal agents, to carry out the hoax at the behest of someone in the government, paving the way for a real event sometime in the near future.
This was interesting but it was also bullshit, a tidbit on quantum embolisms to look the other way on an obvious government program to hoax the public in advance of real events. Jay was right, thought Tim, this source needs to be burned and fast. Obviously, something real was going to happen in the swamps of Kissimmee any day now, and thwarting it would piss those things off something fierce, plus, throw them off their game, whatever it was.
Here was a chance for not only a countermeasure, but a quick jab at the enemy. He made the call back to Gary.
But it wasn’t ten minutes before he got another call from Sean Cogswell on a semi-secure line.
“Seanny boy! How goes the race.”
“Excellent Tim, excellent, a lock. Listen, I just got off the phone with Gary and I had a thought, a different one, can you pick up on my reasoning or do I need to send a kite down to you?”
A kite was a code word for a message sent in a package via snail mail, sometimes within a box of returned sail kites in an overnight from one of Tim’s other Highjump locations.
“Your reasoning, let me think for a moment, ah..”
Sean was saying to let it play out, document the upcoming Kissimmee phenomenon, and then out the hoaxer.
“Different kind of scenario to the PL’s” Tim said.
“You got it,” Sean said.
PL was also code, for the 1997 Phoenix Lights incident of 1997 where the Air Force had staged a flight of F-15s dropping flares to mimic an actual event taking place at the time; this, ostensibly, to ‘calm the masses.’
What Sean was advocating could actually prove collusion between the government and those operating UFOs.
“It would require a lot of man hours babysitting in some pretty bad conditions,” Tim said.
“That’s what they do, Tim. That’s what they live for,” Sean said, and he was right. MUFON types wouldn’t mind sitting in a swamp night after night, for a month if necessary, if the payoff was documenting something real.
“Gotcha. Yes, good call,” Tim said.
“Hey I worry about your stores in Havana and the D.R.,” Sean said.
“Well if it happens it happens,” Tim said to the threat of nationalization. “In fact, that’s already been programmed into the equation.”
“Your stock will take a hit.”
“Sure it will,” Tim said.
“But you just had your IPO, what was it, six months ago?” Sean said.
“I’ll look like just another sap with egg on his face and a story to tell. Get a few interviews on CNBC. Where I can do what, Sean?”
“Get me some national media coverage?”
“You got it, buddy,” Tim said.
When they hung up, Tim worried about listening ears, but he always did that. Did he say too much? Were there key words in the mix that would trip a greater intensity to the government’s Echelon network of ears? He practically needed a teletype in his head recording conversations so he could go back over them at leisure; and, these actually were available of course, via neural desktop and Savante Systems Inc. They were expensive but with voice recognition software, it was possible.