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The Meeting

"Without unpacking, I fell on the bed for some much needed rest. I had just fallen into a deep sleep when the phone rang.

“Hello.” I was in that stage of sleep that, when awakened you have no idea where you are or how you got there.

"Sergeant Shennan?" The caller asked. Still confused, I answered, “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“This is Captain White, from the training group. I’d like for you to meet me at the main entrance to the NSA building at 1500 hrs. I need to go over some things with you.”

I had come to the National Security Agency (NSA), outside of Washington DC, to attend an intermediate electronic intelligence class. It was a course needed in my development as an electronic intelligence (ELINT) analyst in the US Air Force. There were two of us from my base that were selected to attend this class so I assumed Captain White wanted to see us both.

“Would you like me to bring Sergeant Ham, Captain?”

"No" he said. I only need to speak with you. Do you know which entrance I'm talking about? “

I had never been to the NSA complex so I told him I didn’t. I quickly grabbed a pen and wrote down the directions.
“I’ll see you at 1500 hrs,” he said before he hung up.

I immediately looked at my watch and it was already 1300 hrs. I had been asleep for only three hours and my body was pleading for more. As I walked to the bathroom I started to wonder,

“Why did the captain want to talk to me, and me only?”. . . .
[p.18]
Many sources jokingly referred to it as
"No Such Agency" because of the level of secrecy sur-
rounding the organization itself.

As we walked down the stark hallways, my preconceived ideas of how the interior of the hallowed halls
of the NSA complex would look fell far short of reality.
The hallways were bland expanses of raised tile floors and painted walls. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but somehow it wasn't what I was seeing.

We walked for miles, it seemed, down numerous hall-
ways before we reached Captain White's office. The sign next to the door, in small unassuming letters, read
"Captain White/DO."

"This is it," he said as he swiped his card through the card reading device mounted on the wall below his name plate. He punched his personal code into the numbered keypad located on the face of the device. A green light
and an audible click signaled the door had unlocked,

As we stepped through the door I could see another door in front of us. The captain made sure the door behind us was secured, then turned and placed his forehead against what appeared to be a visor. I immediately recognized it as a retina scanner. My understanding was that they were still experimental, but this one appeared to work fine. After a few seconds of scan time, we heard a tone. I was already full of questions about the security measures, but I bit my tongue not wanting to sound inexperienced.

[p19 omitted mostly]. . . .

[p20]
"Well you must be pretty tired then. Let me get this out of the way so you can get back to the hotel and get some sleep."

Yes! I could almost hear the sigh of relief escape my mouth. I was tired, and had been running on adrenaline for some time.

"You've probably surmised by now that this meeting is a little unusual."

"Actually, my curiosity has been piqued," I said as calmly as I could, not wanting to let him know how nervous I was.

"I can imagine. I've been in the position of telling people this a few times now, and there's never been a way to put it lightly. As you know, you've been sent here to go through course EA280, but you will also be going through another school while you're here."

In one quick moment, all my anxieties vanished. He just wanted to tell me about another class. But no sooner had my anxieties disappeared than they reappeared, only ten-fold.

"To put it bluntly. Sergeant Sherman, in the summer of 1960 your mother was visited by what the world commonly refers to as aliens."

"Sir?" was the only thing I could manage to say.

"Random tests were being conducted on the general populace at the time to determine compatibility."

I was in a state of utter disbelief when I asked in a weak, cracking voice, "Compatibility?"

"Yes. Actually, it's a long story. I'll try to explain as much as I can but there's much that I don't even know. In a nutshell, you've been given an interesting ability through what we call genetic management."

My mother, genetic management, compatibility, long story. My mind was reeling with all this new information. I came in here expecting to find out about a deployment for an exercise, or perhaps that I had incorrectly filled out my travel voucher, [italics] but not this [end italics]

As though the captain could sense how much shock I was experiencing he said, "I know all this is going to be hard to swallow, but I can assure you it's true."

All at once I became overwrought with a sense of amazement and curiosity. Captain White sat in front of me, calm and relaxed, telling me that aliens existed as if he were merely sharing with me the topic of an obscure news item he read in yesterday's paper.

If this was true, than all those years of boyhood wondering had just been validated, in one fell swoop. There was life elsewhere and we [italics] were not [/I] alone in this vast universe. Was I dreaming? Could this really be happening? I had heard rumors through the classified grapevine of alien craft experiments in Nevada, and the testing of new weapons based on alien technology. But this was no longer a rumor. This was reality - my reality.

All these things were going through my mind as the captain continued with his remarkable revelations. "I mentioned you have a unique ability; we call it 'intuitive communications.' It's an ability to communicate through the intuitive manipulation of your mind. There have been a handful of people since this ability was perfected that have utilized this skill within the military establishment. [end p21]

[p24] Reality Check!
My mind was still swimming as I asked, "So what [I] am [/I] I doing here. Sir?"

The captain continued with the story as if he hadn't heard me. "In 1960, an experiment was given a great deal of attention within Level 1 circles...."

"Excuse me. Sir," I interrupted. "What is 'Level 1'?"

"I was just getting there. Level 1 is a classification category that allows us to compartmentalize any and all grey information. You'll hear more about this at your security indoctrination later."

"I see."

The captain went on. "The experiment that I'm referring to was, and still is, named 'Project Preserve Destiny.' It started in 1960 and was fully operational by 1963. It was a genetic management project with the sole purpose of cultivating human offspring so that they would have the ability to communicate with the greys. Your mother was initially abducted in 1960 for tests, then again in 1963 for the actual genetic procedure while you were in the womb."

Each moment in Captain White's office was more shocking than the last. In the seconds after each new revelation, my mind went through utter disbelief, followed by skepticism, then outright curiosity. How could this be happening to me? Aliens were the made-up fantasies of Hollywood film makers and science fiction book writers. They had no place within the concrete, tangible realm of the US Military. Yet, here I sat in front of a US Air Force captain with two connected silver bars on each shoulder, listening to what most people would recognize as a great little alien story.

At some point in our conversation, I can't remember exactly when, I became a believer. First out of my own desire to believe, then ultimately out of my inability to avoid the information being presented to me.

"Your abilities are a product of Project Preserve Destiny. Sergeant Sherman."

I was about to ask a question when the captain directed my attention back to the screen, as if to say, "not yet, there's more!"

I was expecting pictures of aliens and other science fiction type of stuff. Instead, I was treated to a healthy dose of facts and bullet statements.

"In January of 1963, the first successfully managed embryo was produced under PPD supervision. There were only a certain number of 'intcomm' capable personnel required, hence the genetic management phase of PPD was terminated in March of 1968."

I accurately surmised that "intcomm" was a shortened name for intuitive communications. (I later learned that I would be referred to as an "IC.")

"Because intcomm abilities really cannot be fully utilized, biologically, until the subject is approximately 25 years old or older, we have just recently begun the recruiting and training phase of PPD. Because the selection process in 1960 was based on carefully calculated statistical demographics, they were able to accurately predict that a certain percentage of those offspring would choose the military as a career."

[end of p25. assorted brief excerpts follow]

p26:

“Why have all these people been selected for this project? What’s the ultimate purpose?”

“That’s a good question. Unfortunately I have no answer for you. Most of us only know enough to do our assigned jobs. The long term goals are only known by a handful of Level 1 personnel of which I am not one. All that we’ve been told is that your abilities will be needed in the future when all electromagnetic communications will be rendered useless.”

“How will this happen?” I asked.

“Again, there are things that you have no need-to-know at this point and that is one of them. To tell you the truth, I do not know either. I have my suspicions, which I’m sure you will have as time goes on as well.”

“I will be your PPD point of contact during your stay here in Maryland. It’s probably obvious, but I must address it anyway. You are not authorized to speak to anyone about PPD unless I direct you to do so. . . . “

“. . . Two large computer monitors and a standard keyboard were at each workstation. I remember being impressed by the size of the computer monitor’s screens. They were at least 26” measured diagonally, if not more. The only other furnishings were two chairs at the workstations and a table in the middle of the room. On the table was a pitcher of water, two glasses, and a plate with two pills on it.”

“Captain White motioned for me to pull up to the table with one of the chairs. The captain sat at the head of the table and placed his briefcase down in front of him. “

. . .

“Why hide the alien program from the public to begin with?”

“That’s a good question, Sergeant Serhman, My guess is that the information being kept from the public, if released, would create instability to world markets and the global equilibrium of power that is so unstable anyway.”

. . .

“I’m sure it’s not so much the specific knowledge that aliens exist that is the problem, it’s more like the information that we have gained from communicating with them that would create havoc if released.”

[p38]

“As I said yesterday, PPD had its beginnings in 1960. The personnel in charge of the project, at the time, tried to figure out a better way to keep the program from the eyes of the increasingly aware public. Brute force and manipulation was intimidating but not an effective long term solution. In order to protect any future information leaks they instituted what they called the ‘onion’ effect.”

I was slightly confused by this time, so I asked, “When you say brute force and manipulation, what do you mean exactly? In what context are you talking about?”

“The personnel working with alien projects at the time were simply told not to tell any unauthorized person about anything they knew or they, a friend, or a family member would meet with an unfortunate situation. Of course, fear is a prime motivator but not the most effective. They still had people stealing documents with classified markings all over them as proof to others about what was going on.” [Qx new paragraphing here words per original]

“In order to hide information effectively back then, it took a great deal of resourcesand manpower to oversee everyone involved with alien programs. So when PPD was first formed, it was the model for the new onion effect. It was also around this time period that a new black project was just getting started so they decided to hide the newly formed PPD behind this new black project to keep curious Congressmen and other nosy officials away.”

“How the onion effect works is similar to the actual layers of an onion. An onion has many different layers. So does the military. On the outside of the military onion, the side everyone can see, is the ‘unclassified’ layer. . . .

. . .

“Black missions, which we call Level 2, are what the alien projects are effectively hidden behind. The existence of black missions is only known by a handful of Congressmen and the President. These black missions are the last line of defense for the alien projects. Wherever an alien project is located there [I] must [/I] be a black mission to cover its existence from prying eyes. . . . Otherwise, the alien project would eventually come under scrutiny by [I] someone [/I] within official channels. As it stands under the current system, if a nosy Congressman starts looking where he has no need-to-know, he can be briefed on the black mission, be made to feel important and thereby squelching any further digging. . . .

“Last, but not least, on the trip through the onion, we come to the alien missions on Level 1; referred to as ‘grey’, ‘grey matter’ or ‘slant missions’. The center of the onion always contains the alien project. Not even the commander of a site is normally aware of the alien project residing beneath his nose.”

[p43]

“Having heard nothing up to this point about taking any pills, I was understandably alarmed. “Why do I have to take these pills? What are they for?” I asked, somewhat defensively.

“They are to facilitate your abilities—they’re quite harmless,” the captain said nonchalantly.”

“Of course I wasn’t taking it so lightly, so I asked again. “But what are they?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. But you will have to take them to help you with your schooling,” he said.

[some revelations from his alien contact p 123]:

“I asked if they can travel through time: for example—can they go backward or forward in time? He told me that it was not possible to witness a reality that occurred in some other time but the present. In order to go back in time, one must assume that there exists a reference point from which to measure backward or forward. This is an impossibility. Essentially, they weren’t able to travel [I] through [/I] time but [I] around [/I] time and [I] from [/I] time. I never really understood what Bones meant by this.”

“. . . One question I remember quite clearly was when I asked if they had a soul. As was usually the case, his answer was quite curious. Perhaps someone reading this will be able to understand it better than I. He said that any entity that realizes its own existence has intellect and therefore must have a soul. We have been created from the same oneness (my interpretation), and out of that creation came intellect and non-intellect. These are the only forms of life in the universe. We were both (them and us), along with many others, a part of the intellectual aspect creation.”

Quix:

Anyway—an interesting book. I don’t know if it’s available at:

http://www.aboveblack.com

OR NOT. Taken from: ABOVE BLACK by Dan Sherman--worth getting, if the topic is of serious interest, imho. NOTE: those well known to me, sympathetic to the topic; solid, serious Christians and willing to give me a snail mail addy can speak up for the particular book I'm mentioning and excerpting if they would like me to give it to them. It will likely take me a week to get the others in the handful excerpted.

NOTE: I’m not interested in discussing whether such a story could be true or not. I’m only interested in discussing the particulars as though they are true. I don’t know if they are, or not. But I’m only interested in discussion from the stand point of pretending that the story is true.