Archive for August, 2010
We post this with respect, but with urgency.
As our readers know, Oxadrenals’ and his group are attempting to offer the gift of physical immortality to the world; however, the Immortal Illuminati are (in good faith, and with good intentions) attempting to stop him from doing so. The current moment is therefore one of crisis.
We have already mentioned that a series of narratives about this conflict are about to go online. What we wish to add now is that these narratives will appear online automatically. Stephen has arranged the process. In his opinion, not even the NSA can stop them appearing.
These narratives are written from the perspective of various people involved in the drama. They begin in December of last year, and continue on up to the present. But the present is at a tipping point. We don’t know whether Oxadrenals’ project will be allowed to reach completion, or whether it will be suppressed by Alexandros; whether the world shall receive physical immortality, or it shall not. The final post has not been written.
If Oxadrenals succeeds, these narratives will represent a celebration and chronicle of this great moment in human history. If, however, Alexandros successfully suppresses Oxadrenals, the posts will still appear: and they will tell the whole human world who has deprived them of eternal life.
This is not a threat! We certainly don’t have the temerity to threat such a being as Alexandros. All we want to do is this: Alter the facts on the ground to influence your thoughtful decision making.
Within hours, we will announce the URL of the first installments. — Kate and Stephen
POSTSCRIPT: URL Announced here.
Like the Hafeem Saul, this is a story based on fact and composed by Oxadrenals and his scribes. But the style is altogether different. It is a thriller; a love story; a voyage into the world of immortals; and it is the record of a quest for physical immortality that is reaching its crisis now.
If Oxadrenals succeeds, the narrative will reach up to the present and beyond. But if he falls, and our current hope for immortality is lost, at least the record of this grand attempt will be given to the world.
The first installment will appear by morning. — Kate
P.S. Flyss, I wonder if you’d like to decorate the narrative with a few photos? :-)
P.P.S. And, I promise, the detail regarding the ear will be made clear.
You’re HafeemObservingAll? Cool!
Nothing to forgive there. You loved Glenn as much as I did. And he treasured you. It only makes sense he let you in on his posthumous life. And I’m sure he would have wanted you to keep things as mysterious as possible for as long as possible.
But, now, what about that damn ear? — Flyss
I do have an answer for you about that ear :-) Only, before I can tell you, I first I have to make yet another confession. Here it is:
I’m “Hafeem ObservingAll.”
Well, in part I am. Mostly, “she” really is just Stephen’s computer program, Babble-on. But Glenn gave me override access, and I’ve stepped in a few times. That’s why she sometimes sounds human.
And that’s it. A clean slate. No more deceptions. Are we OK? — Kate
(P.S. No, I’m not a Hafeem, myself! Just an ordinary woman.)
Thank you for being so understanding, Flyss! I knew you would.
About physical immortality: It may be really happening. But we’re not there yet. There’s some kind of battle going on between Oxadrenals and Alexandros, with The Eldest playing a role as well. As I understand it, events are coming to a crisis at one or more large underground installations. It could turn out well, but it could turn out very badly. I don’t think anyone can know how it’s going to turn out. But we are really, truly, on the cusp.
Look for a series of important announcements soon. – Kate
Oh. Yeah, I see. Yes, you’re probably right.
I’m sure you are.
Anyway, no real harm. The adventures were great!
P.S. They used someone’s ear? What the heck?
And who’s this Janice chick everyone’s running around for?
Like I said, if you’d uncovered the project prematurely, which you would have given your skills, the consequences would have been disastrous. Of course, I wanted to just tell you too. But on the same day I learned the truth from Oxadrenals, Glenn vanished. And, given the mood you were in then, you’d probably say to hell with everything and go full steam ahead in exactly the direction you shouldn’t. And then, afterwards, there never seemed to be a right time. You’d gotten the wind back in your sails; you were happy and excited. I didn’t want to deflate you.
Oh, I’m sorry, Flyss. I really am. — Kate
In addition, may I add that I have independent confirmation that we can trust what Oxadrenals is telling us now?
In order to persuade me to withhold certain information, he had to give me certain facts, and these allowed me to test his claim. I know what he is doing, where, and how he arranged it. I can trace his suppliers, identify the transfer of funds, track the arrival of the equipment, and generally verify the proceedings as they have occurred thus far. I’ll send this material to you privately. I would ask you to please reserve judgment until you have reviewed it. Sincerely — Stephen
Who will trust him ever? / for, as they say
the cover up is worse than the crime.
(2) A man when caught / admits deception.
We cease to trust for a time / but redemption is possible.
(3) A man brings out his deception voluntarily / tells us before we find him out
Before we are even close to discovery.
Rather than falling / our trust in him rises
For such admission takes humility / and shows an honest soul.
Flyss: I’ve known all this for several months. He told me.
He had to do it because of you.
He was afraid of your talents. You had impressed him greatly. He feared — no, he was certain! — that you would uncover the heart of his project prematurely, and take from us this one great chance of physical immortality. So he kept you distracted, not in foolish investigations but in important ones, just not into the one great secret that had to be kept. You read the Hafeem Saul. You know how much he cares about this.– Kate
What the F? The Aussie is already here? We’ve been following a fake Bounty Hunter? And Oxadrenals has known all this?
He says he’s about to achieve physical immortality. But I’m kind of having a hard time with all this. Why should we believe anything he says, now? He’s a fucking liar. — Flyss
Continued from my last post
(10) Now that the project has reached its climax, the extensive caution we have thus far employed may be relaxed in one of its elements.
(11) We have been calling Oxadrenals great antagonist “Antipollus.” But his true name is Alexandros.*
(12) NOTE: Though Oxadrenals is in conflict with Alexandros, this does not mean that Alexandros is evil. Oxadrenals himself does not regard him as such. There are many sides to this matter. It is a classic conflict of competing goods. Oxadrenals has taken a position, but he respects that of his antagonist.
(13) But Alexandros is implacably opposed to physical immortality for mortals.
(14) Thus the stakes in this final crisis are very high.
(15) There may be a battle.
(16) Oxadrenals himself is not sure he will survive. — Stephen
*Oxadrenals” is an anagram of “Alexandros.” This is another example of the remarkable gifts at word play possessed by our esteemed Hafeem colleague. For not only does it directly mock Alexandros, it is also a pun: The adrenals of oxen are used in Taoist medicine to lengthen life.
As I was discussing in my last post, it is now safe for me to reveal the details of a significant but necessary deception that has been practiced on us by Oxadrenals. Here are the major points, arranged in logical order.
(1) The Aussie in fact arrived in the US one year ago.
(2) The Bounty Hunter (the real one, not the man we call by that name) discovered him on his arrival.
(3) This led to the fruition of certain of Oxadrenals’ plans.
(4) Oxadrenals could not risk interference with those plans by outside parties. Therefore, as a matter of tradecraft, he obscured the event, paying one of his other Bounty Hunters to take over certain elements of the identity of the first.
(5) We stumbled into the story by discovering the Aussie ourselves. But, fortunately, Oxadrenals’ technique worked, and we were derailed onto the wrong Bounty Hunter.
(6) I say “fortunately,” because I am in full agreement with what Oxadrenals is doing. His behavior was honorable. He has been honest to us in almost all respects, taking precautions only that we would not interfere with the great work he was undertaking.
(7) He himself informed me of the deception, and asked me to reserve publication of the facts until that great work had progressed to its climax.
(8) That point has been now been reached. (continued in my next post) — Stephen
[Editor's note: The actual bounty hunter, Richard Menniss, is discussed in the narratives of the Immortality Project.]
As I mentioned in my last post, it appears that we have been somewhat deceived. I discovered the deception in my researches, but held back revealing what I knew. Until now.
We have been waiting for the Aussie to arrive. Admittedly, while waiting, we have found two True Immortals. But the Aussie was the first True Immortal we detected, and, because we didn’t yet have the method of ghost children, finding him involved a great deal of time and effort. And we had lost track of him. Naturally, we looked forward to discovering his current whereabouts.
However, several weeks ago I began to notice certain facts that raised fundamental questions.
I had been investigating the identity history of the The Bounty Hunter. To my surprise, I discovered divergences between the identity of the man we know now and the identity of the person who had been investigating the Aussie. Both were highly skilled professionals for hire. Both carried out investigations of Immortals and Hafeems. But using my current tools, I gradually uncovered a break in continuity. The Bounty Hunter we know and the one who has had been investigating the Aussie are not the same men.
How had we been fooled initially? The second Bounty Hunter had intentionally taken on the apparent identity of the first.
But surely Oxadrenals would know about this. The second Bounty Hunter worked for him! And we had discussed the Aussie with him at length. Nonetheless, Oxadrenals allowed us to believe that the two men were the same. (To be fair, he has admitted many times that he is forced to deceive us on certain points.)
At around the same time, I began to acquire some startling new evidence about the Aussie: It began to appear that the Aussie had already arrived. In fact, I discovered strong indications that he arrived almost one year ago. He lived for a time in Texas. And then he disappeared.
Then, about two weeks ago, without any prompting, Oxadrenals brought this very information to me. He gave me a satisfactory explanation. But he asked me to reserve the entire subject from publication for a period. As he gave solid reasons for doing so, I complied.
However, now that “the Big Show” is underway, it is safe for reveal what has actually been going on.
I shall now clarify many details. I will also reveal actual names. (continued in my next post) — Stephen
Yes, I do know. Let me explain.
First, a review. The first immortal for whose existence we had solid evidence is a man we have nicknamed “The Aussie.” What we know about him is summarized here.
Of note, though we lost the trail of the Aussie, we discovered a person who was following the Aussie too, the “Bounty Hunter.” We have nurtured hopes that by following him we would find the Aussie. In the process of observing the Bounty Hunter, we were contacted by Oxadrenals. After a number of interactions that are not directly relevant to the current topic, Oxadrenals provided special training to Flyss and Strattera. They were led to believe that the ultimate purpose of this training was to allow them to observe the BH as he closed in on the Aussie, and possibly also to covertly enter an underground world.
But then other adventures intervened.
Flyss and Strattera investigated the San Francisco War Memorial, and found a surveillance equipment in a secret room. this led to a gambit designed to flush out True Immortals in the SENS foundation, and also allowed us to observe the Blue&blacks in action.
In the past, we had used a number of very time intensive methods to search out immortals, only some of which succeeded. But then I discovered the method of tracking ghost children identities. This powerful technique led to a series of discoveries. The first merely involved symbols on a beach in Santa Cruz, but next we we able to detect and observe the arrival of two True Immortals: first Speed Demon and then the Molly.
In the midst of this, Oxadrenals published The Hafeem Saul, a fascinating biographical narrative.
These events kept us quite busy. So busy, that we all forgot for a time that Flyss and Strattera were supposedly in preparation for observing the Bounty Hunter close in on the Aussie.
It now appears that we have been somewhat deceived. But justifiably so! (Blockbuster revelations in my next several posts.) — Stephen
What do you mean it’s happening now? What’s happening?
You wrote: “Once we find [so and so] we’ll go ahead and [do this and that] … and then we’ll [do that and this]” And then, somehow, physical immortality is on its way, that is if Antipollus doesn’t stop you.
Have you found the Aussie? Are you close to physical immmortality? Are you fighting against Antipollus?
Stephen, do you know what he means? — Flyss
But, though silent, I have not been idle. In the interval, I have been analyzing public and private databases, and have made certain discoveries. In connection with this, I have asked for and received certain information from Oxadrenals.
In the next several posts, I shall describe at some length what I now know. But before I begin, Oxadrenals has an announcement to make that is of immense significance. –Stephen
We now know something of the personality of three, and they are as distinct from one another as people can be. The Aussie slinks in the darkness; he knows no other; he is cautious, afraid, and self-involved. Speed Demon is an explosion on a motorcycle, self-assured, confident, arriving from afar and racing past all dangers to seek safety among others. Molly is of a grander order; she ranks among the others; she is met on arrival by a grand entourage rather than left to forge her way alone: she is protected by many servants, some who create themselves in her own image; she is already part of a larger ancient story. (The Eldest is a being too grand for mortal understanding.)
The Aussie lives in the dark, Speed Demon in twilight, Molly in broad day.
My heart says: This is progress. What has been in darkness comes now into the light. – Kate
The Molly in black spoke to us as we passed. Here’s what she said:
“Did you think we were going to hurt you? The Molly doesn’t hurt the mortals who love her. It’s only natural that mortals should love her, she understands that. “(She didn’t actually use the name “Molly,” but a different name that sounds a little like it.)
She put her hand to her waist, and I thought she was pulling out a gun, but it wasn’t a gun — it was a kind of old fashioned walkie-talkie. Except that wasn’t what it was either. It did look something like a walkie-talkie, but it was inlaid with jade and had strange script written on it, and the antenna was made of black glass.
“This is the scepter of the Molly,” she said, more or less. “With it, I can take you in to us. You can come to live where we live. The Molly would take care of you. You could even become like me, and serve her in her in her own image.”
I pulled away, ready to bolt, and she looked sad. “There is no other chance for you,” she said. “If you leave, you will not have the chance again.”
Strattera asked, “If we leave, what will you do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “We will never look for you, never see you, never touch you.” She held out the “scepter” thing.
I hesitated. I don’t know why.
And then I felt Strattera next to me, and I stepped away from the Molly. I took another step, and then I turned and ran. We both ran out of there. We got in the car, and headed off fast as we could, high up into the mountains, where the walls of a canyon enfolded us, and we drove until it was dark, and we kept on driving. — Flyss
It was a white knuckle ride, but nothing bad happened. No helicopters. No ambushes. No frying pans. We glided out of the Federal lands, and came down out of the mountains into the ye olde yuppie/hippie college town of Boulder, Colorado.
I was still expecting to find Mollies at every turn as we pivoted through the town (no longer going fast because they have traffic cameras on every lampost here, and you can go to jail for reckless endangerment if you crowd a bicyclist.) But everything stayed fine. Boulder is not exactly my kind of city — it’s a tad too tame — but I do like it, and no matter how yuppified, I still have fond memories of the Pearl Street Mall And especially the Boulder Bookstore.
There were crowds of people everywhere, musicians, jugglers, German tourists and the like, and it just wasn’t the sort of place where servants of immortals are likely to parachute in and shoot you. Strattera and walked hand in hand down from the top of mall and I was finally beginning to truly relaxed when we saw her.
She was walking out of my beloved Boulder Bookstore, looking away from us, just a young woman with reddish hair who could be anyone.
I think I might have paused for a second, but that was all. I mean, people do have red hair.
But, as I might not have stressed enough earlier, the Mollies are not actually clones of each other. They’re clearly different people. At the airport, they were all dressed similarly, it’s true, and they all had light skin and various shades of red hair, and looked about 25, but that was all that was the same about them.
This woman wasn’t dressed at all like the Mollies we’d been looking at. She was just a girl with red hair, and so I shook my fears away and we walked past her.
And then she spoke to us. (continued in my next post) — Flyss
(Continued from my last post)
Strattera gunned the engine, and we took off into a maze of country roads. Of course, they could spot us from the air, but they must have already dropped as many parachutists as they could spare, and no more came down. Still, our friends had an operation on the ground, too, and any minute now they might come after us. Strattera was all for going to the nearest police station or sheriff’s office and wanted me to use my iPhone to find one. But I was afraid those guys might be in on it.
My idea was to get to the nearest crowd of people and get lost in them. The closest city was Boulder, and I knew a shortcut to it, a road that cuts through this rocky area:
We sped along, making great time, and I was beginning to relax. Then I realized I’d taken us from the frying pan into the fire; I’d been afraid of the local police, but now we were passing through Federal lands: the National Renewable Energy Laboratory, with its test wind farms and this giant parabolic trough pointed up at the sky collecting sun.
There were structures like these, too, enormously tall, and I thought I saw Mollies in every one.
It was a white knuckle ride. (Continued in my next post) — Flyss
When the parachutist came down not more than a quarter mile away, it finally dawned on us what was happening: Molly’s entourage had spotted us, and they were sending down some nice folks to check on what we were doing. Yes, this was in broad daylight, but there’s a parachuting club at the airport, and it would take awhile for anyone watching to notice that they were landing in all the wrong places.
We tore out of there, but another chutist came down on the road ahead. Luckily, Strattera’s a crazy driver under stress, and she made one of those extra special U-turns where you go into a spin on purpose and then come out of it at the right time. We sped out in our new direction, but we hadn’t gone very far when we ran across another of them, and this time there really wasn’t anything we could except drive off an embankment or run him down. Strattera hit the brakes. As we skidded to a stop, the parachutist brought up something that looked like a gun, and it might have been the end of this blog post right then and there when who should come screeching up from behind the fellow but the Bounty Hunter, in a black Mercedes.
He didn’t mean to help us; I don’t think he even registered we were there. He was just running, himself, and apparently he didn’t mind driving over someone. Or, more likely, it was just that he had decades of practice, and knew the guy would get out of the way at the last second. Anyway, the black Mercedes came roaring up, the parachutist jumped down the embankment, and we suddenly had a clear stretch of road ahead.
For the moment, anyway. (Continued in my next post) — Flyss
Continued from my last post.
So the plane took off. It circled around over the hills and rose. Minutes after, another plane rose and did the same thing. And then another.
And then they began dropping people. Here’s a slideshow of a few pictures I shot, including some I really shouldn’t have.
We spent a considerable time just gaping. Why in the heck would planes take off with an Immortal and her entourage and then, once they were high in the sky and safely away, start offloading people on parachutes?
It took us several minutes to realize what it was about. As you can see in the slideshow, I even took pictures with my not-so-great telephoto lens of one chutist touching down pretty close to us.
Yes, we were that stupid!
It wasn’t until that guy almost touched down that we figured it out: We’d been spotted. (Continued in my next post.)– Flyss
When the car came racing toward them, I expected the Molly’s entourage to open fire on it, but they didn’t. Instead, they opened ranks and let it drive on in.
What happened next was hard to see, but here’s my take on it. (a) It was the BH’s Hafeem who jumped out of the car. (I’m talking about the Hafeem living in that odd compound.) (b) The Molly hugged him for dear life. (c) They both climbed in plane and took off.
What happened after that made us gape. We kept up the gaping so long, in fact, that we almost got ourselves killed. — Flyss
As Strattera said, when the red-headed lady arrived at DIA and turned into two dozen red-haired ladies, we quickly gave up on figuring out who was who and raced over to the nearby muni airport where the BH had been hanging around, in hopes that where the real one was going. (Or, to be more accurate, we raced over to a bit of high ground about a half mile away where we could watch with a telescope. Too far away for my camera, sorry.)
Not more than two minutes after we got in place, one of those big heavy construction-type helicopters touched down, and a red-headed lady stepped out.
By the way, even before I get sick of calling her the “red haired lady” I’m going to give her a codename. I’m going to call her “Molly.”
Doesn’t she look like she should be called “Molly,” with that grin and bright lipstick?
Of course, I don’t know for sure if this Molly was the original arriving Immortal or one of her body doubles. And you can naturally wonder how we could have gotten to the airport ahead of her. But maybe they let a lot of fake ones go before she did. Anyway, what happened next pretty much proves that she’s the Molly.
She was instantly surrounded by her entourage the moment she got off the helicopter, and they wafted her over a short distance to an airplane like this one.
But before she got in, one of the hangers opened up nearby.
*It wasn’t this exact hanger exactly, but it was pretty much the same kind of hangar.)
Then, a low slung black car raced out of the hanger toward her at high speed.
(More in my next post.) — Flyss
(Continuing from Flyss’ last post.)
That VIP ghost child finally arrived. As you may remember, she’d purchased tickets for dozens of flights. Each time one of the flights arrived, her entourage would move into position. The plane would then unload; they’d watch the passengers deplane; she wasn’t among them; they’d stand down.
They acted exactly the same -this time too. The only reason we know something different happened is because of what Flyss had noticed earlier in the day. Though, in fact, she wasn’t consciously aware of what she’d noticed, and it didn’t click for her until she watched the passengers come in.
One of the passengers arriving on this flight (which originated in London) was a perky young woman with short red hair wearing a reddish dress and a beaded necklace. It suddenly struck Flyss then that the airport had too many women perky young women with short red hair wearing reddish dresses. That was it: the only sign.
What came next was a demonstration of supreme skill (and also proof that Flyss was right.) The woman who got off the plane entered the DIA train at terminal C, screened by red&whites. At terminal B, two similar (though not identical) women with short red hair got off from different cars. One got back on the train; another took the walkway. At terminal A, it happened again, except now there were four of them.
The various women we managed to follow got on one elevator or another, and when the doors opened often two such women got out At the parking garage levels, at least two dozen red-haired women in red dresses got out of one or another of the sixteen possible elevators over the next thirty minutes. Many of those got into cars subtly marked with the red&white pattern. Others got into cars with no such markings at all. Still others walked back into the airport, some through security, and some not. A few we observed getting on helicopters or small planes. Most of them we entirely lost track of.
Here’s one of them, photographed with a blue&black plane behind her.
Instead of using my own car, I called for a ride. Very sensible of me. But now a whole caravan of autos are coming down the road. Did they tap into my signal?
They just drove on by. And now Strattera’s here. I want to signal her: Drive on, don’t stop!
But she’s stopped.
Do I go out onto the road? Yeah, I guess I do. — Flyss (Continued here.)
(Continued from my last post.)
Thanks for the signal, Ox, but no sign of the BH here. Just lots and lots of planes. Here’s one model I see a lot.
And there’s also plenty of these mosquitoey things buzzing around:
I guess I stay hunkered down in the corn till it’s dark.
As I said in my last post, I decided to get closer to that peculiar looking compound.
From one direction, there’s an endless corn field:
I used to play in those when I was a kid. There’s a trick to moving through them without disturbing the stalks. If you crawl carefully through the “corn tunnel,” you are truly invisible.
I got myself closer to the compound and took a few photos. I still wasn’t all that close, though, and the final stretch was too exposed to cross, as you can see here.
Given that I didn’t dare go out in the open, here’s the best photo I could manage:
If anyone has any idea what this is, let me know. — Flyss
P.S. The sky is remarkably full of planes around here.
As I’ve been discussing, the red&white “military police,” backed up by the blue&black paramilitaries, have been holding dry runs for the arrival of someone they must value greatly, considering the amount of personnel they’ve thrown into the process.
Into the middle of this walked someone we’ve known for some time: the Bounty Hunter. Oxadrenals thinks that he knew nothing about the airport operation, but that he was following a Hafeem who is somehow involved.
But the man is certainly a professional. When he arrived at DIA from the municipal airport Flyss was staking out, he picked them right out of the crowd as he passed. We were watching him, and knew who he was, or we wouldn’t have noticed his reaction, because it was scarcely a reaction at all: He merely diminished.
He’d stalked into the airport a man with a purpose. When he saw them (though what it is about them that caught his attention, I don’t know) he became to all appearances a man who had never known purpose. In his normal state, he is full of physical and mental energy; he became a man without any edge to him at all.
He ambled through their complex security operation, and I am certain they didn’t see him.
But when he left, he headed straight back toward the compound to whose edge Flyss was working her way up to. We phoned to let her know. However, by then other things were happening. (Continued in Flyss’ next post.) — Strattera
Continued from my last post.
So I followed the car that came out of the hanger.
Nice ride! Doubt it’s a senile old hafeem in a wheelchair the BH’s after this time.
But this one does live in a rural area, like the other one did. After he left the airport, he drove off up a series of country roads, and at a certain point if I’d followed him I’d have been obvious, so I had to hang back and watch best I could with binoculars. (Strattera wasn’t with me. We’d divided forces, and he stayed at DIA to follow that action.)
I’m fairly sure the compound below is where he drove to. I can’t say exactly what it is I’m looking at, though.
(As usual, all these photos enlarge by clicking on them.) Here’s a closeup, enhanced as best I could in Photoshop:
Off to the left there seem to be some fairly major power poles. The compound, or whatever it is, looks exceedingly peculiar.
The BH was still at DIA, leaving that complication out of things. So I proceeded to try to get closer. (Continued in my next post.) — Flyss
If this is any help to you Ox, he’s been checking out this door a lot:
It’s in a long row of hangers:
The area is huge, and mostly deserted. Here’s another view of the door, showing how lonely it is in this direction too:
I spent some time there after the BH boarded a commuter plane to DIA. Strattera confirmed he’d arrived, and so I felt free to look around.
I was looking at the window and trying to figure out if the yellow patches were painted on or just reflections, when this happened, settling the question nicely:
Being the ever prepared investigator I’ve just recently grown up to be, I’d already picked the lock on this storage locker, and now I ducked inside it.
I heard a car drive out of the hanger, its engine echoing in the hollow space, and then the echo cut off as the hanger door shut again.
My own car wasn’t too far away, and I managed to get to it before their car made it entirely out of the maze of the airport complex. I followed it to a rather interesting site. –(continued in my next post) — Flyss
Actually, this comes as a surprise to me too. But I may have an immature ink of what’s going on. My baby ink suggests that he’s following a Hafeem, and, unbeknownst to our Bounty Hunter, that Hafeem is trying to link up with whomever’s arriving at DIA. Which puts the BH in some danger. He’s a good guy, so I’m going to warn him off if I can. — Ox (Thread continued here.)
(Continuing the thread from Strattera’s last post.)
Interestinger and interestinger. Look who just passed through a municipal airport less than an hour from DIA:
Our old friend the Bounty Hunter has dyed his hair and put on brown contacts, but that’s him all right. (Photo slightly doctored up for security.)
What’s he doing here? Have you put him on the job just now, Oxadrenals? Or does he work for the other side sometimes? — Flyss
[thread continued here]
I mentioned in my last post that we are now seeing increasing involvement of the blue&blacks in the vicinity of DIA prior to the arrival of a new “ghost child,” apparently serving as backup for the red&white organization.
I showed a photo of one of the many blue/black helicopters we’ve observed. Now, I wish to post an image of a person.
The photograph below was taken in San Francisco, when Flyss and I were out there investigating the Veteran’s War Memorial.
We actually didn’t identify him as anyone important until more than a month later, when we’d had time to go carefully through images we taken in SF. The photo above enlarges if you click on it, and the symbol is visible if you look closely at his blue coat on the left side, just beneath the button.
Here’s a cropped, blown up view:
(Again, click on the image to enlarge it.) If you still find the symbol difficult to see, here is a Photoshop-enhanced version of the above. The symbol (or the half of it that is visible) is inside the white rectangle.
You can understand why we didn’t notice this immediately.
Obviously, the man pictured here is not a True Immortal, but is instead a Hafeem or an ordinary mortal. But he is clearly a blue&black. And he’s currently present at DIA. He seems to be the only blue&black present, which is why I suggested that he’s functioning in a liason capacity.
Clearly, the Immortal Illuminati value the person who is imminently arriving.
Flyss will pick up the thread now. — Strattera
(Continued from my last post.)
A little review: As you may recall, the group of Immortals who call themselves The Illuminati are run by a board of 12 members, plus a 13th who only occasionally involves herself. Of these, eleven manage their own organizations of Hafeems and mortals, marked out by distinctive colors and symbols.
The “blue&blacks” are a paramilitary force run by an Immortal we are calling “Sollaya.” When in full regalia, they wear clothes entirely of blue and black, with the “Illuminati Symbol” emblazoned on the back and the letter “S” on front. Members the “red&whites” function as a sort of military police, and wear bright red uniforms, white berets, white sashes around the necks and white armbands emblazoned with the letter “L.” The “yellow&blacks” wear yellow jackets and trousers with black beaded trim and a letter “B” embroidered in black on the back of their jackets. There are also green&golds, silver&oranges, and several others.
When on public operations, they considerably tone down their presentation, but always retain certain identifying elements. Thus far, we’ve encountered red&white symbology in the entourage waiting to greet an arriving ghost child at Denver International Airport. But now a few elements of the blue&blacks have appeared on the scene.
Distinctively blue/black helicopters such as this one have been appearing near DIA and also at nearby municipal airports:
(Colors somewhat Photoshop-enhanced for visibility.)
Furthermore, someone who appears to be a liason officer from the blue&black organization has joined the red&whites waiting at DIA. He’s someone we’ve seen before, but not shown on the blog until now. (Continued in my next post.) — Strattera
Continued from my last post:
Interesting: more than a dozen of these have accumulated at a nearby municipal airport.
(Click to enlarge.) Notice the red & white stripes on the helicopter, as well as the color of the clothes of its occupants.
I mentioned in my last post that the leader of the red&white entourage arranges multiple alternate means of transportation each time one of the flights booked by the new “ghost child” arrives. In this post, I plan to show some of the more interesting.
Of course, there are autos and limousines. But prior to each occasion a set of helicopters and private planes also shows up, and then leave when it becomes clear that the expected person has not arrived. (Presumably, he is not traveling under his actual name, and so the deplaning passengers must be observed individually. )
Here is a photo of several of their planes on the ground together:
But these are very small planes, and notoriously unsafe. One can’t imagine a True Immortal risking a flight on one of these. I’m not sure exactly what they intend these for.
This other craft, photographed by Flyss as it flew overhead, is of a different caliber.
These are capable of flying on a single propeller, and can handle high winds. It is believable that a True Immortal would risk a flight in one of these.
Their organization also possess a number of construction-grade helicopters, otherwise known as sky-cranes.
In calm weather, these are solid as brick.
It’s a substantial operation, and it will be interesting to learn who it’s intended to receive.– (continued in my next post) Strattera
Several days ago, we received word from Stephen that another ghost child had been activated. This one had purchased almost two dozen different tickets to Denver. (I would have expected this practice to raise red flags with Homeland Security, but I’ve now been educated in the ways of the wealthy, and discovered that this is not at all uncommon.)
Unlike Speed Demon, who was a show unto herself (in various senses of the expression), this one has a whole entourage waiting. And all of them are dressed, whether subtly or overtly, in clothes patterned on shades of red and white. We considered, of course, whether this could be a hostile reception rather than a friendly one, but the demeanor and activities of the red&whites suggest the latter interpretation.
The leader of the entourage is the man we showed earlier. Here’s his slightly altered photo once again:
He’s come several times, in sync with the purchased but unused tickets. He arranges his people carefully, including placing several behind secure areas. (The fact that he is able to do so may explain why Denver International Airport is used by more than one True Immortal. The conspiracy theories regarding DIA may in part reflect a connection to an immortal organization.)
With each possible arrival, he sets up multiple means of transportation, so many, in fact, that we suspect he plans to use body doubles to confuse any pursuer.
He will most likely confuse us too. But in attempting to follow the new arrival for as long as we can, we expect to learn more about the methods of this “red&white” organization.
So far, there have been numerous false alarms, but no actual appearance of the “ghost child.” — (Continued in my next post) Strattera
It was hard to move from Speed Demon to the story about Saul, and now it’s hard to switch gears away from Saul to anything else. I feel a lot like our reader “C,” as if I just got off a roller coaster of feelings and ideas. And I’m sure Stephen’s working on a book-length post about the new information we have.
But I’m going to just bite the bullet and switch gears. I have to. (Thread continued here.) — Flyss
P.S. Obviously certainly people in the story are actually certain people outside the story. But let’s not put it in writing, OK?
Stretched out helplessly toward the infinite. That’s what we’re all doing, all the time, isn’t it?
Right now, I’m with Strattera watching the airport for another True Immortal to arrive, and so that’s certainly what we’re doing.
But it’s happening everywhere and always. I see that now. Even sex is a reaching toward the infinite … and you only touch it for a second before it falls away. – Flyss
The final three installments of The Hafeem Saul are up now, a bit early.
In Discovered him to himself Howard tells how he met Bonnie Akers.
The story concludes with Stretched Out toward the Infinite, ending on a grand and poignant note.
Saul lets go of his pride and carves a probably futile message to a True Immortal he once knew. While doing so describes himself as:
… once more stretched out helplessly toward the infinite: that forever varied, endlessly repeated gesture of all mortal beings.
We’re coming up toward the end of The Hafeem Saul now. Please forgive me if I seem a little bit emotionally involved, because I am.
In the most recent section, Saul shouts “GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH” along with Bonnie Akers, in a kind of Infuriated Mantra. It’s freeing for him, and he says of the experience that he “dug up buried corpses of sorrow and pitched them into his voice.” Buried corpses! It’s often like that with one’s conscience: the expression “I know where the corpses are buried” applies more often to oneself about oneself than to a blackmailer.
After they share this moment, Bonnie admits her fatal crime, but to us as modern readers, it scarcely registers. She’s gone mad because of this? I found it devastating. I don’t know why, exactly, as the historical reality of it is scarcely a new discovery for me. But Bonnie Akers is alive now, and I felt in the gut.
Then there is a touch of the comic as Carol Denning and several other women Bear Witness that they’ve done the same. The section concludes with these paired passages.
Bonnie ceased to thrash or scream, and spent much of the day watching the ocean. For his part, Saul felt a certain inward calm, but an unsteadiness too, rather like a sailor stepping ashore after years at sea. After living so long with self-reproach, he found it difficult to achieve balance without it.
But it’s only a brief respite. In “Bloodletting Hasn’t Lost its Currency,” Saul notices the first physical changes in Bonnie, and we are now on our way to the end of the story.
The final three installments will be up soon. — Kate
There’s a fascinating editor’s note to the installment “Essence of Tragedy.”
“Hafeems heal better than ordinary mortals. True Immortals heal perfectly, if given time. That is to say, if a wound doesn’t kill them outright in the first few days, they will usually fully recover. No scars, no missing fingers, no gray hairs.”
This answers a question I had posed early on, regarding whether True Immortals accumulate scars as time goes by. It is also eerily consistent with Kate’s fictional story, The Healing Power of Endless Time. – Stephen