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Space-time Dream Continuum – The Wanderlust Alien Chronicles

A short story by Randy Gonzalez
All night she woke up weary and restless. Her mind, as multidimensional as it was,
consistently stimulated the deeper introspection she pursued. The essence of space travel could
be greatly enhanced by removing yourself from physical limitation. On a superficial level, time
had become too cumbersome in this terrestrial realm. Often, the frustrations of physical
conformity slowed the cosmic process of discovery. Her neurological energy levels fluctuated
beyond the human range, sometimes more than tripled the normal wavelengths.
So, during downtime re-programming, she escaped by dreaming, which had no such
constraints for her. Not only that, a few like her could replicate psychic portals. Through which
distant travel through space could be achieved. Having arrived in this solar system long ago,
getting used to the environs took special effort. A legend had to be development in the
conception of a clever cover story. With her abilities and extraterrestrial knowledge, she found a
niche in the U.S. Government as a special investigator.
And yet, Dea Dia, or simply D.D. as in the initials, remained dedicated to her calling. She was
a huntress by nature, but a skilled investigator by special talent and interest. At the North
American Aerospace Defense Command, NORAD, Dea Dia excelled. Still though, she
continued to foster a mystique. Somewhere she had connections. A select group only knew her
as, Dea Dia Wanderlust. For the most part, that was about it, due to national security issues.
From long forgotten galactic mysteries, before earth history, Dea Dia meant “of the sky”,
suggesting divine person. By further expression, “skyclad” was suggestive of ancient rituals.
Regardless, she was an inquisitive wanderer, one who sought out answers to complex
questions about the universe. Back in the old world, somewhere in the Milky way Galaxy, Dea
Dia had been a skilled enforcer-tracker, not unlike early U.S. Marshals. She hunted those who
went outside lawful boundaries of communal consensus. On earth they were criminals of the
most heinous kind. Some of them were from the outer parts of the galaxy.
And, like the island world of the earthly mythical Diana, Dea Dia’s home planet, was called
Delos. In that matriarchal sphere, self-evolution placed great emphasis on the warrior ideal. In
fact, their tradition reflected what Greek historians ascribed to the ancient tribe of Amazons. Yet,
on earth, Dea Dia kept cautious about her abilities. Likewise, she got accustomed to working
with the indigenous life forms, particularly the males of the species.
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“Earthlings can be a pain in the ass,” she said with a yawn in a low whisper, as if someone
might hear. As she pulled herself out of bed, she gazed around her Spartan-like efficiency
apartment. “I didn’t sleep much, but then again, I don’t need much. Unlike earthlings, they need
a lot of things, sleep, food sources, relaxation, their needs never end. They should live on Delos,”
she asserted proudly. “We have simple needs, few wants and our freedom.”
For a few moments, Dea Dia beheld her image in the full-length wall mirror across from the
end of her bed. An elevated mattress platform had taken some getting used to. Delosians are
warriors, comforts like that are almost offensive. Rough, ready for action, tough and self-reliant,
that was her game. Nonetheless, she enjoyed her makeover. Satisfied with her physical cover
story, Dea got up. She slept naked and for her, clothes were not deemed necessary on Delos. To
her, if you were going to die in battle, what difference did it make how you looked?
“Earthlings,” she muttered. “They’re so entertaining. And, they have so many rules. And,
clothes, what’s up with that. We fight, we frolic, we feast when necessary, so what?”
As she held still for a second or two, the image looked back. Dea had camouflaged her natural
entity with short blond hair, and natural blond at that. Her visual reference became a blue-eyed
choice, while her physicality had evolved with nicely toned proportions. For her American
prototype, she went a little bigger in the bosom area.
“Yep, bigger breasts to keep the American male off balance,” she observed her
transformation. “Earth males are not very well evolved. They still image their nursing their
mothers. Not quite weaned from the incubator so to speak.”
A little taller than average, her appearance seemed typically western cultured human. Well, in
her case, the reflection looked down home American, a southern belle, with the spunky attitude
to go with it. She glanced at her non-descript alarm clock, basic and utilitarian. It was time to get
ready to go to the compound. Very soon her military driver would be stopping by to pick her up.
In an instant, she had slid into her usual attire, black suit, white shirt, black tie and stylish boots
to match. Inside of course, there’d be a black shoulder holster and pistol.
For her, she liked them big, as Dea Dia was very fond of guns. Accustomed to warfare with a
sword, crossbow or battle-ax, firearms were quite intriguing. She thought bigger was good in
terms of caliber, not necessarily size of the weapon. From a military arms room, she’d selected
what some of her human colleagues considered a relic. An old Army Colt 1911 .45 caliber had
become her favorite over the last few years on earth.
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“If it was good enough for those Texas Rangers,” she whispered softly in her creamy crisp
tone and tucked her pistol in her harness. “Then it’s good enough for D-D.” at the same time, she
opened her refrigerator and peered at the contents. “Ah, basic organically botanized nutrients
primarily in liquid form and handmade. Chewing really isn’t all that essential. Swallowing is
more efficient. I don’t know how humans survive on the kinds of things they eat.” She sucked in
a long breath and exhaled, “We don’t eat animals on Delos. Then again, our animals are little
different. They might eat you first.” She thought it over for a moment. “Here though, sometimes
it’s hard to tell which is which by the way things act. Some people act like animals.”
DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, had many functions. One of those
pertained to analytic postures to ensure security countermeasures against research compromises.
A breath of agency sanctuary was not to be tolerated. National security took priority. Other
federal agencies were secondary to the work of DARPA. Classified way above top secret, the
kinds of things Dea Dia got involved with would mind boggling to average citizen. You might
say there were cosmic implications. While she contemplated her daily activities, she switched on
the news. Boring as it was, every now and then something of minimal interest might come up.
Between the myriad commercials, which she ignored due to their low I.Q. focus, there might a
relevant news story. As to network news reporting, she found it amusing.
“Hmm, another whistle blower story,” she mused to herself and took a sip of a thick green
super charged nutritional substance. In fact, within the contents of twelve fluid ounces, her
mixture was an entire well-balanced meal. “The human species is interesting. What is it about
some of them, they would betray their country? For that matter, they would breach an oath and
violate a security contract? On Delos that invokes the death penalty.”
“Former FBI senior special agent, Harlie Quinn, is being sought today by the Justice
Department,” the perfectly tailored talking head reported. “His whereabouts are unknown, since
his revelations about government eavesdropping conspiracies surfaced late yesterday.”
“Fascinating,” she murmured softly. While she mulled over the prospect of human deception
and hypocrisy her cell phone signaled. “Ah, the Agency calls. Guess something is afoot, and
perhaps connected to the news report. Who knows anything for certain?” Dea Dia read off the
flashing name on the screen. It simply said, ‘APRAD’. “Hello there,” she answered.
“Good morning, Dea, I need to see you and your partner a.s.a.p.,” the caller said.
“Affirmative, sir. We’ll be right there.” She glanced at her wristwatch.
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“Very well then, I’ll see you shortly,” the chief said to her.
She disconnected the link and thought about her chronometer. Time for this and that here and
there, time taunted the senses at every moment and every day. Humans are very puzzling she
regularly entertained herself with such speculations. To her continued amusement it had been
fascinating to note the species had actually survived this long. Usually the telepathic transience
of time was communicated from one Delosian to another by awareness. If a sentient being had
any doubt, all she did was look up in the sky at the planetary alignments. From that perspective,
you’d simply glance around at the shadows. There wasn’t a need to use a measuring instrument.
Such things kept a life form trapped in a space-time constraint.
“Ah, my partner has arrived,” she noted fondly. “The seldom timely Agent Roswell Airedale
always likes to ring my doorbell, or buzzer.” Strings of buzzing echoed in the background,
which signaled the never on time arrival of her partner. “He must like the sound.”
“Morning, Agent Wanderlust. Are you ready? I think something’s up down at H-Q. The chief
just called me, and…” he chattered. “What? He called you too?”
“Yes, Agent Airedale,” she droned politely and patiently. “We must go now.”
“I gotta tell ya, Dea Dia, our dress code is quite simple, you know,” he uttered aimlessly. “I
mean it’s really the same every day. Keeps things less complicated.”
“Yeah, we look like book ends, a matched pair,” she answered with a smirk.
With that, they raced to the base in their jet black customized Chevy Malibu. The
supercharged V-6 turbo was not the commercial version available to the public. Darkened
windows and a government license plate suggested their official nature. Naturally, the motor
pool crew had added a few specialized accoutrements to the vehicle. From I-25 and the south
side of Colorado Springs, they made their way to one of the not so public security checkpoints.
Running through the protective zigzagging gauntlet, Air Force security police waved up to the
screening portico. After a preliminary inspection, they drove onto the base.
At a highly restricted area of the base, they were sternly greeted by another checkpoint. Anti-
terrorist countermeasures were reflected by the fearsome fortifications. For the black clad
security personnel, no easily recognizable insignia announced who they were or what they were
protecting. DARPA had its own secluded and top-secret location within the secure classified
parameters of the air base. Overhead, charcoal colored unmarked Blackhawk choppers flew
ominously back and forth in periodic defensive flight patterns.
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“Another day at the office,” Dea Dia commented as wryly as a human might. “Black seems to
be our favorite fashion statement. You’re right, keeps things basic and to the point.”
At the front gate, a warning sign announced, “309th Bombardment Group – No Trespassing –
Deadly Forced Authorized”. To them, they knew such an air wing of the U.S. Army had long
ago been inactivated. Yet, cover and concealment can be achieved by various means and sleight
of hand. Official personnel here relied on short-term memory lapses on the part of those outside
the compound. Dea Dia was fascinated by the fact that history had never been an in-depth study
for most human beings. Hiding in plain sight could be very effective.
As they passed through the electronically controlled gates, a series of seismic sensors
monitored their travel trajectory. At intervals of 3.141 meters spacing, wireless signalization
monitored the vehicles progress to the intended destination. At the same time, creative vegetation
concealed surveillance cameras. Another mile up the straight and narrow roadway, and ultra-
modern circular saucer-like buildings appeared from nowhere. Along the passage, a
multidimensional security grid kept watch. A sharp right turn took them to a curved white shiny
hangar that was marked in red lettering, “Hanger 84”.
“Here we are, once again, home away from home,” Agent Airedale announced and pulled into
a parking space. “In record breaking time, I might add. Not bad driving, huh?”
“I must say, you do know how to circumvent traffic,” Dea Dia agreed and thought about how
little traffic congestion she experienced on Delos. Delosians simply were patient and cooperated
with the complexity of the mass transit tubes all over the planet. “We made good time.”
“Old eighty-four,” Airedale read the sign above them as they approach the entry. At, which
point, he pressed his palm against an external biometric scanner. Simultaneously, he offered both
eyes to a pair of goggles mounted on the wall. An indicator switched from red to green and
confirmed his authorization. “Okay, Dea, it’s your turn.”
“High level security scans are constantly important,” Dea commented and waited her turn.
“Thank goodness they rely on human characteristics to ensure effective countermeasures.”
“Of course, that’s the idea,” Airedale added with a smirk.
“Yep, you can’t be too careful these days,” she replied. When she stepped up to the security
screen, she paused and accessed the internal components mentally. “You never know.”
“Uh huh,” Airedale muttered absently while skimming messages on his cell phone. “Nope,
that’s a fact. Of course cyber hackers are our biggest problem these days.”
 6

“That’s affirmative. Network cyber systems have always intrigued me. This internet
framework is very fascinating from an analytic perspective. Plus, I like numbers, like 84 and
3.141,” she acknowledged and complied with standard operating procedures. “There you go.”
The entry way opened and to a rose colored rotunda. “I’m confirmed.”
“How come that thing acknowledges you faster than me?” Airedale asked.
“I don’t know. Guess I like machines and so forth,” she explained. “You see, on the way, I
usually consider the probabilities with spatial alignments of the scanners. Actually the complete
numerical ratio is 3.14159265359 to infinity. That’s a unique concept in itself.”
“That’s why we get along so well, Dea. Me too, I love numbers.” Airedale seemed more
animated the more you talked about numbers. “We solve cases that way.”
“Of course we do,” she noted appreciatively. “The answer is eight in the sequence.”
“You mean between the numeric 84 and 3.14, etc.?” He answered.
“Sure, and what’s the probability?” Dea asked him.
“Yes, wait, hold that thought, I got this. Okay, how about the sequence suggests, no wait…”
He did the mental gymnastics inside his head somewhere. “You run the streams and that suggests
the probability summing together the whole, or the number eight,” he answered.
“There’s significance at this point in the time flux,” she noted with a smile. “Time-space
relationships are important indicators of spatial alignments.”
“Sure, there are linkages we look for, patterns,” Airedale insisted. “Humans are pattern
seeking primates, with an inclination toward subjective validation.”
“I’m glad you said that,” she agreed. “Such things eventually make sense. Patterns and
sequences are essential to problem solving. Using logical deduction one might infer the
significance of subsequent meaning. Or, there is a reason we note this right now.”
Meanwhile the crimson rotunda scanned them from various recessed sensors. From head to
toe, and every curled follicle in between, their anatomical relevance was analyzed. Complete up
to the minute verification for identity purposes remained persistent. At the same time, a pair of
fierce looking security officers looked from their console on as they entered. And yet, who
would question a Delosian passing as a human being? Well, that was an interesting trick she was
able to carry off. Which meant the security system was a little biased. Fortunately for her, the
bias favored complexity of mental alacrity. By sleight of mind tactics, she could alter the
resonance of Delosian energy to mimic that of a human being.
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“Agents, here are your daily I.D. badges,” one of them said. Black clad in battle in fatigues,
he remained emotionally detached and singularly focused. “Coded imprints have changed as per
security directives. Please return these when you leave for the day.”
“Thank you,” Dea offered and looked at Airedale. “Okay, let’s get busy with this concept.
There’s a reason that occurred to me. Back on Delo…,” she almost slipped.
“What? Delaware? You said Delaware right?” Airedale pondered.
“Yeah, back in Delaware,” she started again and quickly corrected herself. Mental note, she
conjured, humans like to fill in the blanks, particularly when none are there. Fallacies of
inference nearly rule this planet’s day to day activities. “Patternicity represents the means by
which a psychodynamic matrix configures a preliminary hypothesis.”
“Uh huh, and, the relevance pertains to which instant?” Airedale asked.
“That’s the mystery we must ponder,” she answered.
In another part of the galaxy, eight is the fortunate number of celestial providence. It’s very
essence reflects a duality, a twin unity of sight and soul, the transmutation of energy to matter
and matter to energy. Objects, living, dead and inanimate are linked in a cosmic gambit of which
most have no clue. For Delosians, the numerical replication expresses timelessness through
dimensional frameworks, linking cause-effect realties. By the mirror of infinity, the ability to see
and relate the connectivity of events requires special insight. However, on a much more
individual level, the appearance of an eight signifies something’s about to happen.
“You were saying about the mere thought of numerical sequence,” Airedale continued and
approached the security door for the inner offices. “Let’s continue this later.”
“I’m certain we will,” Dea replied casually, as they entered the inner sanctum.
The outer area was modest, nearly Spartan in terms of furnishings. Not unlike a police
agency’s squad room, each agent had his or her own cubicle. Agents were equipped with the
most advanced techno-devices available. That is, the kind of computer apparatuses not available
to the general public. While earth tones reflected the internal environment, each fixture was basic
and adapted for utility to the mission of the security team.
Naturally, one might observe that black suits were the order of the day. In fact, the attire was
the order of every day. For those of a conspiratorial mindset, prone to the imagery of Hollywood
movies, this might be seen as the inner workings of the Men in Black. A big fan of the earth
movie industry, Dea often laughed at the comparison. They’re fictional, right?
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Down the center of the outer office area, the two of them walked directly to the chief’s private
office. As though on a large chessboard, the black and white tiles led them to the one in charge
of the special secrets. DD’s booted heels clicked rhythmically across the polished surface. At the
entrance to the inner recesses, an observant scanner detected their presence. Electromagnetic
reverberations analyzed follicles to toe nails just to make sure.
Once again, they were examined from a distance, as cyber systems electronically probed their
presence. And, in consistent repetition, her neural interface corrected any anatomical variations
that might be suspicious. Upon green light confirmation, a partition, or door, depending on your
perspective, instantly slid open. On the inside of the spacious and lavishly appointed office, the
boss sat behind a big oak desk. A general by rank, he wore similar black suit.
“Morning, chief,” Dea Dia greeted as she walked in and took a seat at his gesture. Pushing
back in the soft brown leather comfort, she added, “What’s up, boss?” at the same time, she
wondered what animal, if any, had been sacrificed for the chair. “You sounded urgent.”
“Geezus, Dea, we got a real corndog of greasy fried pork on our hands,” the bald slim figure
said to her. “Airedale, please sit down next to Agent Dea and relax.”
A kind and affable human, yet firmly committed to national security, his head was shaved to
slick smooth roundness. He reminded her of the monks on Delos, sort of like the Buddhists on
earth. She glanced at the massive desk, sucked in a long breath and calmed herself. Since similar
Plantae angiosperms were sacred symbols on her planet, she took a moment in silent reverence.
Such a shrubs and evergreen species remained in the psyche of Delosians. That was due to the
mythic legends of an ancient garden of paradise. Antediluvian ancestors were said to have lived
and relished in the blessed nakedness of physical and psychological liberation.
“Yes, sir, thank you,” Airedale replied nervously and interrupted her brief daydream. He was
better talking to inanimate objects, like computers than other human beings were. That made him
a good partner for DD. Airedale, after getting comfortable, said, “What can we do, sir?”
“You can stop calling me sir, for one thing,” the chief said have teasingly. “Okay, let’s get
busy. Rotate one eighty and take a look at the rear projection screen.”
“Roger that, sir,” Dea Dia stoically replied. She pressed a button on the chair, and the seating
structure turned around to face the wall. “Is that the corndog, chief?”
“Yessiree, that’s the pork rind alleged whistleblower,” the chief uttered.
“Interesting,” Dea Dia murmured and considered the metaphors.
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“This briefing will be straightforward and to the point,” the chief announced, which was his
usual efficient style. And, so it was. The wall screen scrolled through the basics of the
investigation. It was more or less an overview. “A rogue agent of another federal agency, which
shall remain nameless, decided he’d go public with above top secret information.” The chief
cleared his throat. “We can’t have that. This is above top secret. It’s cosmic.”
“Sir, there’s some hint, he’s selling this information, is that right?” Airedale asked.
“Sad to say, yes,” the chief started to say. “We’ve got information he’s got data files he will
sell to the highest bidder. The NSA is tracking various channels. So far, nothing has surfaced as
to his whereabouts, or the information he may or may not have.”
“Is that file, sir?” Dea Dia inquired and retrieved a mid-air toss of a flash drive. “Yes sir,
cosmic is limited to a handful of need to know human beings on this planet.”
“That’s worst case scenario contingencies,” Airedale added.
“Correct, end of the world planning options,” Dea Dia replied.
“Everything you need is on that disk,” the chief answered. “The news media is slowly waking
up to the potential possibility of data the dissident agent might have. Now, get out there and find
that rat bastard and terminate his self-appointed operations quickly.”
“Affirmative, chief,” Airedale responded and got ready to leave.
“Here’s the thing, agents,” the chief said and held up a hand. “We can’t afford this guy
divulging any information about any of our operations. There can be nothing, no way and no
how this stuff goes public.” He rocked back in his over-stuffed leather chair. “And, we don’t
want him getting nabbed by former colleagues at the FBI either.”
“We understand, sir,” Dea Dia said confidently. “We are in extreme discretion and terminal
disruption is active. We’ll follow the usual protocols with care and caution.”
“Neutralize the son of bitch,” the chief uttered one final time. “Do whatever is necessary to
ensure him and the information never existed in the first place. Have a nice day.”
Airedale and Dea Dia left the office and headed for a more private and secure retreat not far
away. On the same grounds, they drove quietly to the “think tank”. They passed through another
series of checkpoints. In the computer control center of a bunker-like silo, they went
underground to put together their action plan. Encrypted computer systems were at the disposal
of Darpa agents at any time. From here, they could access databases all over the world. Tracking
down the now notorious Harlie Quinn had become their only priority.
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“So, now he gets an attack of a guilty conscience, and proclaims he’s a whistle blower, a
national hero. He’s wants to expose the U.S. government.” Airedale offered speculatively,
strongly flavored with sarcasm. He read his computer screen, reviewed the chief’s data disk, and
rocked back and forth, like a grumpy old man on his front porch. “Geezus, this joker thinks he
can mask his intentions.” Airedale even sounded like a discontented elder wanting to scold a
child. But instead of that, He and DD were in their secure bunker underground. He continued, as
she did likewise with her individual computer. “That clown gets a sudden case of kiss and tell,
and we get a potential for a severe breach of national security.”
“Very severe, I’d say, Airedale, my faithful sidekick, aka Watson,” she joked and he accepted
his role. “This one’s above top secret, Roswell,” she commented wryly. Within the dark circular
room, purple tinted and windowless, they shared a large computer console, with separate highly
advanced systems. “So far above the classification, he shouldn’t have had access. You see the
subscript at the bottom? That requires special layers of restricted access.”
“Geezus, he didn’t have clearance for this. My god, DD, this is a leak, right? An unauthorized
access, as if he hacked into the system, would’ve left a trail. And yet, the cyber security failsafe
countermeasures found no traces of any breach.” Airedale quizzed her, while he remained
visually glued to his screen. “The data disk from the chief is about as up to date as we’re gonna
get. DARPA internal affairs are still working the case from their end. He was on loan from the
FBI for homeland security purposes. My god, DD, this is the Galactic Protocols surveillance
system. It reflects our space-time experimentation across the Milky Way.”
“Not a bad name for a confectionary product, if you think about,” she deflected in a fun way
and smiled, which was not her usual way. “Yes, indeed, much harm could come.”
“This so called whistleblower, with a keen self-interest in his own publicity,” Airedale
continued, “could spread public panic and arouse our enemies abroad.”
“Uh huh, that’s a fact, Mr. Area 51,” she commented with a touch of mischief in her tone.
“The non-existent never happened and no one knows anything Galactic Protocols for the Solar
System. It’s the old GPS hide in plain sight ruse. Cover, concealment and camouflage continues,
since one of your experimental space craft crashed in Roswell.” She tossed him her familiar
smirk, which contained several meanings. Mostly it meant how come humans continued to be
stupid as a species. So, she deflected carefully and added, “You know, after two hundred
thousand years, you’d think humans would’ve actually become more evolved.”
 11

“Yep, I have to say, I’m embarrassed at times to be included among the race of people on this
rock called earth. For goodness sakes, DD, the conspiracy buffs will overdose if this gets out,” he
asserted, ignored her comment and shrugged heavily. “International intelligence systems will go
into hyper drive. That said, how did he come by this information?”
“Due to U.S. advancements, and so forth,” she began slowly, “our allies will more than likely
feel betrayed by these revelations. There is more urgency for us to find him.”
“He will surface again soon,” Airedale assured. “His ego will need energizing.”
“Could be as simple as the right data set left in the wrong place,” she theorized while
scanning her console monitor. “He’s out there and will have left a trail. Everyone leaves an
imprint of some kind. Energy radiated resonances at three point one four one microbursts. She
simultaneously read the e-file on the target. She added, “According to this, no one at the top of
his hierarchy is admitting anything. He rationalizes his claims to have the GPS.”
“And, we have to find him and end it,” Roswell replied.
Airedale had his moments, in fact, of the humans she’d known in various ways, this one had
uniqueness imprinted on his psychic resonance. Intuitively, she could read him on different
levels. They’re a curious species, she frequently reiterated to her superiors. Once in her dream
state, what some might call on a very superficial level as Zen, she had communication
capabilities across the galaxy. With that, she also could read the humans very well and anticipate
in some cases their next moves. As to this moment and what she observed Airedale doing, she’d
have to meditate later to recover. How could he eat that hamburger?
“Yuck,” she murmured under her breath. To her, you don’t eat dead animals. She wondered
playfully for a moment. Dea Dia inhaled long and slow and sighed, “Fascinating.”
Okay, she thought it over, what if humans became a food source for another species. Prior to
that morsel he so zealously masticated, she pondered quietly inside her head. Humans do the
strangest things. He looked over at her as if he’d heard her subtle expletive. If they only knew the
truth of their own reality, they’d plunge into shock most likely.
“You okay over there, Ms. DD?” Airedale quizzed absently.
“Oh yes, quite so, just thinking about this case,” she replied and covered her disapproval.
What if Agent Quinn is cleverer than his supervisors gave credit? Ah, the questions yet to be
asked and answered continued speculatively. Suppose she thought, Agent Quinn discovered the
Eden Project. Where did life on earth come from? She knew. “We need to find him.”
 12

To herself, she continued to speculate differently. Do they actually think we would allow
them to explore our galaxy unless they transform? Humans, with a few exceptions, a tiny
percentage, had not changed in 200,000 years. Why would an advanced life form travel a very
long distance to visit them? In the great scheme of universal sowing and reaping, humans
remained at the bottom of the evolutionary food chain. For them, hope springs eternal and sadly,
with harsh finality. Part of her mission was to ensure they didn’t do too much damage prior to
extinction. Empires rise and fall, and humankind was just one more cosmic error.
In all probability, Agent Quinn could reveal this data, although in a more generalized frame of
reference. Such revelation, in spite of the planet’s competing mythologies, would disturb a very
fragile and precarious balance of power. DARPA knew what was going on. The fact that a secret
sect within the federal government already had plans in contingency, the public would not
understand. There would be anarchy and social collapse, which would allow a wealthy dishonest
class to take over. As to her, no one had discovered her true identity.
“You know, we humans are a strange bunch,” Airedale wanted to explain and shook his head
while reading electronic intelligence information. A vast array above top-secret clearance levels
opened to his computer inquiries. “People are just plain weird at times. This person, the jester,
the rogue agent, I mean he had it all. Upper level access to nearly everything, senior grade
personnel and frequently tasked with counterintelligence activities.”
“Uh huh, a little chicken, who thinks the sky is falling,” she started to tell him. Today, her
physical reflective energy, always quite subtle in the changes she made, appeared to him as an
attractive statuesque blonde. She liked that appearance, not unlike what might be considered
movie star quality. But, that was a cover story of replicated skin that hid the real mystique deep
inside her DNA. “Intrigue, fear and mystery, it grips the imagination.”
“Question is, what’s his imagination tell him?” Airedale questioned.
“Yes, that’s true and he certainly had the advantages, and continues to have an advantage,”
she readily acknowledged and pursued her own avenues of inquiry. People can’t be trusted, she
reasoned. “Now he thinks he’s doing justice by exposing the government and claiming the truth.
After all the years, he supposedly gets some semblance of remorse.”
“Biting the hand that feeds you, that’s very intriguing,” he answered. “Geezus, senior pay
grade, all the perks and then he basically attacks what we do. My goodness, why couldn’t he put
his indignation to work on organized crime, terrorists, cults, you know, that stuff.”
 13

“Well, I have to give it to you there, partner.” Dea Dia had long since come to that
conclusion. That it is, the part about humans being strange. “You people, I mean, we, as in us on
this planet, well you know what I mean.” Her eyes met his; he looked curiously back at her. He
simply nodded as if he understood. “In a word, it’s devolution, species regression.”
“Survival, we turn on each other and devour ourselves,” he offered with a sullen tone.
“Primal responsiveness to tribalistic threats,” DD added to her assumption. “Aside from the
incredible potential, humans fail to ensure the effort necessary to transform. Our subject here,
Agent Harlie Quinn, well, he’s a prime example of the symptomatic reactions.”
“We are woefully devolving,” Airedale sadly lamented. “The general collective, the masses,
don’t have a clue. They’ll likely see him as a hero and brave whistleblower. Behind the scenes in
secret, where no one will see, we’ll know just the opposite. Instead, he’s a self-centered
opportunist pursuing his vanity. So, I’m thinking fame and fortune are the purposes.”
“Isn’t that usually the case for most people?” She asked rhetorically. “Traitors come in all
sizes and shapes, but usually there’s a materialistic agenda. No matter how much a person
pretends, or how wishful the public is for a hero, it’s generally an illusion.”
“The underdog can be a vicious predator.” Airedale tapped keys on his keyboard. “We do
know that nature has a way of removing one species after another, once they’re served their
purposes. Time moves on through space and life forms come and go.”
“It’s the consequences of nature, while nurture encourages you to change,” she added. “In the
process, not much transforms as related to human progression.”
Fame and fortune, she wandered inside her mental construct. More or less, the
premeditation was about the gain minus the risks. In this case, the theft of government property
meant a payoff. However, the risk included treason. Dea Dia faded quietly into her surreal state
of subconscious analytic progression. In the background, Airedale continued his ruminations.
Dea Dia didn’t mind that, as she could stay focused in multiple directions at once. As to
Airedale, she considered him unusual, in that he could nearly do that too.
By contrast, Airedale was not unusual in a negative sense. He was just different from other
humans. In her altered presence of consciousness, she ascended to a mind-grid of cosmic
proportions. Sapped so to speak was the preparatory dream state, which Delosians relished. Here,
they could meditate on problem solving probabilities and find solutions. For humans, very
superficially, it might be termed daydreaming.
 14

Yet, to her that reference would be significantly insulting. To her, this was not the simplistic
fantasizing humans speculated. No indeed, this process was exceptionally diagnostic in nature,
because that was the Delosian nature. It was her capability to access the invisible world remotely
with extraordinarily intuitive ability. This could occur from past to present.
She figured humans could do it if they tried. Most won’t, and the masses, forget it, too much
work involved. In fact thousands of years ago the insemination had been implanted. That was at
about thirty-three thousand, three hundred and thirty-three years before the Common Era. In their
formative stages, her race had ensured that likelihood in the DNA substructure of homo sapiens.
So, what happened? Where did the go astray? Her species advanced, why not here?
Who knows? Devolution is a powerful psychometric force of psychodynamic self-destruction.
She had long observed, humans were very good at that. Nonetheless, she could tap into the geo-
magnetic reverberations of thought imprints in the fourth dimension. Every molecule of thinking
activity became transmissions into an alternate realm. Good, evil, and indifferent, thinking
remained a complex stream of data fluctuating at alternating rates. Within the scope and
magnitude of the earth’s electromagnetic, mind’s linked via afterthought.
Regardless, on her screen, she postulated an equation. Of which, the short version calculated
the variations possible that uniquely identified Harlie Quinn. Cerebral projections were as unique
to the individual as fingerprints. However, deciphering the complexity had always been a
challenge. Meanwhile, the fluctuations related to a factor of 3.l41. This included the exponential
characteristics between the day of disappearance, combined across the spectrum of
telecommunications, and the cross-reference with individual psychic resonance.
“Dea, remember when you called out the factor of three point one four one?” Airedale asked
while working busily at his console. “Well, I’ve run some data through the computer. In the
process, I applied multidimensional solvability factors to the equation.” His eyes intently gazed
at hers. Curious he thought, her eye color seems different. But, that was the extent to which
Airedale pursued his curiosity. His attention span she knew remained fixated on his particular
domain. That accounts in part why so-called smart people are actually quite stupid in many other
areas outside their primary domain. “Well,” he said, “the probability factor of threes.”
“Yes, I recall most vividly my speculation on that matter,” she answered thoughtfully and
considered how effective a .45 caliber would be versus a solar pistol. “Of trilogies, trinities and
trios, the Id, the Ego and Superego collude for the individuality of the one.”
 15

“Fascinating, if you start with that conjecture,” he answered thoughtfully. “Then it is likely
you can proceed along a trajectory of introspection that resolves the deduction.”
“Naturally, it follows that a three dimensional process is essential,” she replied. Her thoughts
continued with regard to her gun. After all, an astral ray burst equivalent to three gigajoules
could vaporize human atomic structure. That was very disruptive. Poof, she thought to herself,
such a thing is a massive concentration of energy. She said to him, “Rule of three calibrates from
every carbon based source, as in human electromagnetic resonance.”
“Cosmic intelligence factor, based on spatial longevity,” Airedale wanted to reason. “No
more secrets should we ever channel into that vast circulating psychic reservoir.” He suggested
the connection between energy forms that circulated the planet given all the deaths that had
occurred through history to the present. “Matter becomes energy, vice versa, the flux remains
constant.” Plus or minus the living and the thinking processes that continue to fabricate all
manner of imaginings. “If we could access precisely, then we tag him.”
“Of course, we use his resonance, plus the linkage he provides through his Right now, we can
“Righto, Dea, let’s go with that, okay?” Airedale invited with a quizzical expression. “As in
the GPS postulations, we can retrace that energy print and track the source.”
“Alright, let me here your speculative perspective,” she answered. Inside her thoughts, she
figured triple gigajoules equated to approximately three quarters a ton of TNT. Yet on earth, she
understood, it all depends on whether one is considering metric tons, short tons or even long
tons, since measurements vary around the planet. Go figure that, she wondered. “Keep in mind
though; the amplification of the projected energy varies greatly.”
“Yeah, yeah, bear with me on this,” he invited her to assume his point. “Given a factor of
three, allowing for a slight variation, and assumptions programming must anticipate, the
escapee’s trajectory devolves equatorially to the southeast region.”
“Makes sense, Airedale,” Dea Dea agreed. She re-examined her computer screen and added
her own conjecture. “However, I would calculate a more condensed variation.” Fifteen hundred
pounds of TNT is a significant amount of energy to power an earthly household for a long time.
Or, used one time to terminate a traitor. Interesting, she thought, and preferred using her .45
caliber with one shot to the head. “If you transmute the figuration using 3.141592653, then add
the range, using ten digits, to arrive at the end sum of three…” she thought some more.
“Okay, and? I’m with you on that, so?” He wanted to know.
 16

“So,” she repeated, “With the data disk, based on what we know already, and given the last
known signal of his text messages, there’s a pattern. Coupled with his psychic intercourse with
the surrounding environment, we can extrapolate directionality to the Far East.”
“I’m coming up with Hong Kong,” Airedale told her confidently. “Uh huh, there it is.”
Airedale pointed to his computer screen. “The holographic model deduced a triangulation to the
juncture of polar coordinates that indicate confirmation of your theory.”
“Precisely, a center for international intrigue and global intelligence gathering,” Dea Dia
asserted. “Not to forget of course, a place where extradition laws are in limbo.”
“Harlie Quinn is also familiar with embassy operations over there,” Airedale reinforced the
assumption. “Let’s run everything on him while we plan a trip to the Far East.”
“DARPA Airlines,” Dea Dea smirked casually as she activated her comm-link. “Yes, my pass
code is,” she gave her access information and went through the usual protocols. “Two transports
to Hong Kong with the usual accommodations and status profiles.”
“We’re working for the Rising Sun Beacon out of Tokyo?” Airedale quizzed Dea Dia upon
their arrival in Hong Kong. “How clever, we don’t look Japanese.”
“My dear Airedale, you don’t have to be Asian to work for something that doesn’t exist,” she
considered his sensitive state of being human. “Just stay in character for the role.”
“I suppose we all play various roles,” he answered with a contemplative gaze. “Well, I
suppose we look the part.” He grew more serious. “The middle ground between college preppy
and side show carny. Not to forget the usual accoutrements, note pad, micro recorder, fake
glasses, and any other pretenses to look intelligent. Geez, are they that goofy.”
“So called journalists?” Dea Dia asked for clarification. He nodded. “Yes. Nowadays, doesn’t
take much, because not much is expected. You just adlib mostly, make stuff up where there are
gaps, and avoid any real sense of an investigation.” She thought about it for a moment, while she
inspected the both of them. She adjusted the collar on his shirt. “It’s really all about the
advertising, the commercialization aspect. However, there was a time in your history.” Again,
she caught herself. “I mean our history when we had genuine reporting.”
“Hey, how about we indulge in some sushi?” Airedale, after a brief pause to consider what
she’d said, inquired of her. “Right around the corner there’s the Sushi Max Express. Now, I
won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m buying and I know you like sushi, where you come from.”
“Interesting way you put that, Airedale, my dear old chap,” D-D answered.
 17

“What’s your ultra-doppler digital seismograph indicate?” Airedale inquired as they left the
hotel. “Are we still on the correct trajectory, given the permutations you did?”
“We are right on target, the weasel is in his burrow,” she replied confidently.
From their temporary quarters, they chatted up their plan and went for a modest snack of
vegetarian sushi. After that, they traveled by taxi to another hotel as the hour grew late. This one
was very different from theirs. At that location, they had extrapolated a psychodynamic route to
the last known location of their quarry. By the triangulation postulated by D-D, the calibration
put them at a precise juncture of the very fashionable upscale accommodations.
As suspected, the suspect was hiding in high style within the luxurious confines of one of the
finest lodgings in the city. Anonymously, yet known to them, their prey concealed himself in
pretended anonymity, as well as luxury. Upon entering the ornate high rise, they immediately
noticed the huge gaggle of reporters. Cameras, telecom systems and assorted communication
links were strewn all over the lobby. The noise was annoying for both of them.
“Well, well, the growing fan club,” D-D commented with dry wit. “Seems like our quarry is
about to go public.” She scanned the interior with expert analysis. “We have company. Appears
the competition is ready and waiting for the snitch to be exposed and snatched.”
“Hmm, middle eastern collective, mercenaries, no doubt,” Airedale added.
Opulent, red draped and museum artistic, they took their time assessing the environs. After a
few careful moments, around the fringes of the crowd, they slipped quietly to an adjoining
hallway that circled the lobby. From that access passage, they located the bank of three shiny
golden elevators. Casually, acting in a manner consistent with distracted and self-absorbed
media, they entered the middle elevator and followed the signalization on D-D’s comm-link. She
efficiently assessed the directional configurations of the tracking beacon.
“D-D, we do need to ensure a quick interrogation and departure,” Airedale sounded serious
this time and not his usual carefree self. They were alone inside the lift and all distraction faded
in the solitude of their confinement. “Security cam overhead, D-D and problems?”
“Nope, not to worry, I’ve already disabled it,” she answered while examining her tracker unit.
“The security staff is watching an empty elevator at the moment.” She glanced up at him and
winked. “You knew that already. We were never here and this never happened.”
“Roger that, my partner extraordinaire,” he said with a slight hint of an accent.
“Sounding a bit British are we, Airedale,” she noted instantly.
 18

“One of my favorite fictional characters they have on this planet,” he caught himself in a split
second. “Uh, I mean, in the movies, and in books I’ve read, is this British spy.” “He inhaled a
long steady breath, and let it out slowly, as one hand fidgeted under his coat. “My Beretta is a
little snug in the shoulder holster,” he changed the subject quickly. Aside from that, the blue suit
was immaculately tailored just like hers. He went to ask what they already knew. “We get in, get
a recording and get out. Does that sound consistent with protocols?”
“Ah, Airedale, you old fraud you,” D-D teased with a lighthearted hint. She whipped out her
Colt; he flinched and froze, and instantly she attached a long black cylinder to the barrel.
“You’re a Centaurian, you wild and clever guy. Geezus you’re long way from home, pal. Yeah, I
know, you’re on to me too, right? Sorry about the ruse. We share kinship.”
“I’m afraid so,” he commented smoothly, changed his countenance to a more focused state of
being. He stood up straighter and lost the geeky attitude. “Yes, from the Alpha Quadrant.
Centauri is a desert planet, as you well know. Technology is of vital necessity.” Such was the
kind of transition a galactic investigator would make, once his or her identity had been revealed.
“I’ve suspected your origin for some time. Noticed a few things here and there, and figured, of
all the planetary neighbors, you’d likely be a Delosian. They are unique to say the least. We tend
to be a more techno culture. You had me going for a while though.”
“Centaurian, go figure, it’s a small a galaxy, huh? And yes, you’re super techy to say the
lesser of two or more cosmic perspectives,” She quipped in a friendly way. “Well, we Delosians
are different. Ours is a jungle planet, more like the tropics in a sense. Fortunately, on Delos our
animals don’t try to eat us. We have symbiotic relationship that is harmonious in nature. On top
of that, we relish in naturalism and value very highly plant life.” She paused for a moment as the
lift vibrated slightly and then added, “Your world is more mechanistic than ours is. We tend to
be like what earthlings consider about the ancient Greek culture, the Spartans.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that,” he assumed. “Your people are a unique balance between fierce fighters
and peaceful farmers. That’s very interesting. Anyway, speaking of being a long way from home,
you’re about twenty point three light years from earth. You came a long way.”
“You’re closer, my friend, roughly one point three-three parsecs, give or take a light year,”
she swiftly countered. “In light years, came more quickly than I. I would say four point three six-
six light years. Did you use the time portal differential with phased refraction?”
“Affirmative, such is much more efficient,” he answered.
 19

“Absolutely, me too. My goodness there’s no other way,” D-D confirmed what they felt was
obvious. Yet, with an arcane sense of the immediate situation, they mused at the prospect. “As
we both know, humans haven’t quite scratched the proverbial time phase on the trans-warp-
teleportation process. Years ago, a couple of their very brilliant physicists understood the
concept. But, you know Airedale, this human preoccupation with fossil fuels is bizarre. By the
pantheon of the goddesses, we’d never do that. Stellar transportation is very complicated by way
of a physical spacecraft.” She waited for the elevator to stop completely. “That’s terribly
inefficient, costly and energies too much time-space content.”
“Tell me about it,” he responded with a sour inflection. “Nobody on our side of the galaxy
uses transpos for interstellar travel. We simply apply such things to recreational planetary
movement. Usually, the mechanism is for public mass transportation.”
“Yeah, we’ll we both know earth is still a type zero civilization,” she told him.
“Well, that’s the interesting thing about this planet, D-D.” He gazed admiringly at her. There
was some level of attraction. Airedale also understood the individuality of Delosians. They were
extremely polygamous and exceptionally liberated in their sexuality. Communal naturalism was
their custom. He came from a similar but more organized system. “After two hundred or more
millennium, ten thousand generations, this is as far as they have gotten?”
“I understand what you’re saying,” she agreed with reservation. “That’s one reason I’m here
and similar to the cause and effect you seek in gaining understanding.”
“Of course, we are very curious why this species cannot evolve,” he said with a negative hint
in his tone. “In fact, it appears to us, humans are regressing into devolution.” He held back a sigh
and went on. “Most of them are very superstitious, believe in mythical illusions, contrive beliefs
based on emotion as opposed to reason, and they look for us in flying saucers.”
“And, my friend, that is just the tip of what they say here about icebergs.” D-D shook her
head. Never saw an iceberg before I got to earth. You haven’t either. Your planet is a desert
environment and you live underground. Water is a valuable commodity.”
“We survive and get along very well,” he noted pleasantly. “Once you become accustomed to
living in barren atmosphere, not much else matters. You simply learn to appreciate the simple
things nature has to offer. Unlike the grotesque materiality we see here. Yet, I understand
something else about you and your evolutionary eccentricities. Different from our life-line, your
people are not unfamiliar with earth, even though your ancestors traveled a long way.”
 20

“Ah yes,” D-D murmured and listened intently to the creaking, hoisting and ascending of the
elevator. Around them, the quiet held prominence. “One of our ancient sages used to admonish
us younglings to be grateful for what we have.”
“Very wise, we have a similar adage, as they way,” he said and got ready to lock the elevator
on the floor they sought. “Thirty-third floor? Interesting play on numbers.”
“Yes, threes, I’m fascinated by threes,” she added. “To continue, we would learn words of
wisdom when we were in basic survival training.” The lift slowed gently on approach to the
upper levels and the thirty-third section. “How can you be grateful when you’re undergoing
simulated drowning deep in the sea?” She flexed an eyebrow at Airedale.
“That certainly is fascinating.” He turned and mentally counted the floors they passed. “I
can’t image that. I would think the creature were quite interesting.”
“Oh yes, but, you learn how to control them,” she explained. “After all the aggression is the
result of fear and is different from self-defense. Fear invites swift death.”
“I have no disagreement with that.” He nodded. “Fight when it is right to fight.”
“Anyway, our learned mentor, she also said,” D-D continued. “We must never envy anything
others have, use what you have and ask nothing of anyone. It is for the sake of self-reliance,
independence and liberation. The third thing, rule of threes, assert your will to achieve self-
evolution to a higher level. Be a better version of your original self.”
“I quite agree,” he accepted with a sophisticated slant. His eyes focused on hers. “D-D you
did not respond to my earlier comment. This planet is not new to you is it?”
“You’re planet is closer,” she responded. “What didn’t your lineage do something?”
“This is a water planet,” he answered as though that aspect should’ve been obvious. “We are
not interested in such configurations of solar development.” Airedale locked the elevator on the
thirty-third floor. “Your kind were here in the prehistoric days.”
“I know where you are going with this, my friend.” She held his gaze and allowed a tiny edge
of a smile. “My ancestors had this idea, or theory, about sowing the seeds of a celestial garden.
So, what do you want me to tell you? Will you feel better, if we accept blame?”
“Perhaps,” he muttered softly. “Maybe in one sense, we might have solace about the
creativity of your ancestral indulgences. Of course, that would be a futile debate.”
“Precisely, such fixations are a waste of good energy,” she offered. “As to the present
predicament, we must rectify an imbalance. No one can know what our quarry knows.”
 21

“It’s a threefold problem,” Airedale speculated with an aloof sense of the moment. “First, our
suspect can reveal documentation of how humankind really came into being. A detailed history
that we protect and keep hidden from the rest of the humans. That alone will scare most of the
population into panic and hasten the collapses of social systems.”
“Creation’s a bitch, isn’t it? Uh huh, that’s the key weakness of human thinking, a failure of
belief systems, based on subjective validation. Hope springs eternal when you think your biases
are the right ones,” she added to the demise of an otherwise uplifting day.
“Well, at least according to secret scientific material that doesn’t exist,” he continued
somewhat seriously. “Secondly, revelations can have a disastrous effect on this planet. The
fugitive has the data that exposes the vast networks of cover-ups by powerful religious
collusions. And, that alone, will have adverse political consequences.”
“Revealing the truth must be done in such a way,” she offered slowly, “that anarchy is
avoided and learning transitions in a peaceful and mature fashion.” She took in a long breath, as
they waited for the precise moment to make their move. Inside, she counted each nanosecond
and paused for the right breath of external motions. “Plus, economies will crash.” She skimmed
him over and assessed his body language. “You know how sensitive investors are, right?” She
waited for a second or two, Airedale didn’t answer. “In that realm, commerce, industry, finance
and especially banking, they’re very edgy. Any volatility will bring disaster.”
“That’s means people at the bottom of the societal hierarchy are likely to suffer.” Airedale
frowned. “Unfortunately, it seems like that’s typical on this planet.”
“One could only hope rationality would prevail,” D-D added swiftly.
“Geez, you expect reason on this planet? Come now, my friend, you really think humans can
handle any of these ancient secrets?” Airedale countered in a friendly way.
“No, not at all, that’s why we allowed free will,” she admitted to her ancestral complicities in
planetary agriculture. “While we’ve learned to control our emotions, they’re a long way off from
that wise and judicious fulcrum. Balance is difficult when emotions run high.” D-D listened
intently to the hallway outside. “Nonetheless, they get to make their choices.”
“We wouldn’t have done it that way. Ancient origins, or as we might suggest, are complex,”
Airedale proposed. “To put the future in the hands of selfish life forms, that’s a significantly
dangerous probability. I must say, your people were very brave.”
“Yeah, we Delosians like to take risks every now and then,” she said to him.
 22

“Got to hand it to you, the human race is very risky business.” He too listened to the sounds
around them. “The life force that emanates from the primordial ooze on a green planet would
have been differently programmed by us. Then again, you were trying some unique. But now,
long after that garden your people created, the earth is becoming browner, as opposed to
aquamarine.” He cleared his throat with a slight cough. “Third thing is, if the populations panic,
then global instability is a likely result. You know as well as I do…”
“Yes, galactic intervention,” she answered with a frown. “These so called whistleblowers,
whatever you want to call them, don’t understand what they’re tampering with.” He placed one
hand on the center of the elevator doors and got ready. “Timing is everything. Now is not the
time to tell the public certain historic secrets in this particular case. Such things they do are more
about their egos than truth and justice. We can’t risk an imbalance.”
“No, the cosmic protocols will not tolerate these kinds of variances,” he reminded. “There are
rules, procedures and guidelines. Our suspect’s actions are outside the acceptable range. Besides,
a true whistleblower is one who seeks the right course of action.”
“That leaves only one option to the problem at hand,” he told her.
“Termination of the error,” she encouraged with a sullen tone. “Our quarry doesn’t leave us
much of an alternative.” She shook her blond curls slowly with confidence. “When they tie our
hands like this, we have no other remedy except swift and certain action.”
“We do not do this carelessly,” he agreed and wanted to encourage the necessity of what they
were going to do. “The greater good is at stake. We stabilize a negative situation.”
“Sometimes I wonder if the greater good is really good,” she replied mournfully.
“That’s always worth considering,” he said in reply. “Switching to tranq-darts?”
“Yes, let’s do it now,” she said. At which instant, D-D replaced the magazine in her gun with
one painted blue. “Confirming, we’re switching to tranquilizer ammo.” She tossed him a steady
gaze. “Once we pass the security mercs, we switch to live rounds.”
“Roger that, Dea,” he said and did likewise. “We sweep the hallway, right? Then, as quickly
as possible reload with the real the stuff and terminate the objective.”
“Sweep and reap,” she uttered and loaded a dart in the chamber of her pistol. “The tranqs are
specially designed by DARPA of instantaneous neutralization for about an hour.”
“Alright, I sense three to my right, and three to your left,” he told her.
“I can validate that.” She nodded. “You go right; I’ll hit them on the left.”
 23

“The hour is appropriate, as most people will be in hibernation,” Airedale began but caught
himself. “I mean earth sleep and it’s nearly midnight, a good time.” He adjusted his thin black tie
and the collar of his crisp white shirt. “We use sleep for travel to distant worlds. They slumber in
order to repair the damage they’ve done during the day, go figure that?”
“Ironic in a strange humanistic way,” she concurred. “Then again, my ancestors were
attempting something different in the DNA replications. What’re ya gonna do?” She raised an
eyebrow and shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my idea of the perfect design.”
“Suffice it to say, however, at this particular part of the earth cycle, we don’t do kidnappings
and probe people,” he asserted. “That whole thing is an annoying affront to aliens.”
“Of course it is. But, to the UFO cults, many consider this to be about the time they are
abducted and probed.” D-D smirked. “For humans, that’s a very carnal kind of thing. Many are
very sexually frustrated. We know that’s wishful thinking on the part of earthlings.” She pulled
in a few long breaths. Her large Delosian bosom rose and fell with each healthy cadence. He
noticed the preparations. “That’s why our suspect is calling a press conference late in the
evening. Plus, this will actually be about the time for noon day news in the west.”
“Unquestionably, and as to the abduction thing, there’s no evidence any stellar species does
that,” he commented wryly. “We certainly don’t. For cosmic sakes, Dea, we already know what
we need to know about humans. It’s not as if they’re hard to figure out. Geez, they’re such a
simple life form. Travel all these light years just to kidnap and analyze a lower species? Oh
please spare me the insult. Humans do like to flatter themselves, huh?”
“Certainly they do, there’s no reason to abduct an earthling while they’re sleeping,” she added
with an amused hint. “Why do that at night? Shucks, we don’t have to sneak up on them. They’re
so distracted we could easily get a few specimens during daylight hours.” She made a face that
suggested boredom. “Heck all you got to do is zap’em with a tranq in broad daylight. No one
would notice. What the heck? It’s another example of human arrogance.”
“On three, ready?” Airedale announced with one finger on the elevator button.
“Roger that, timing is good, go for it,” she acknowledged. “Hit the release.”
“Primary protocol, Airedale,” she said with the sound of a warning. “The information cannot
get out to the populations. Whistleblower, informant or traitor, whatever, that doesn’t mean a
thing.” D-D took up a shooting stance by the door. “That is irrelevant to the overall objective. No
one can know we are here doing what we do. The mission must continue.”
 24

“I agree,” he answered with a nod and a wink. “There’s too much at risk.”
As the doors whipped open, they swirled into action. Charging the hallway, the hired security
team slowly began to react. In the one-sided firefight of mere seconds, six security personnel
were dispatched with furious speed. None of the half-dozen elite former eastern European
mercenaries was any match for the presence of multidimensional beings. From their
disadvantage, they never saw the ghost-like images coming at them. A quick blur here, and
shadowy movement over there, they weren’t ready for this kind of attack.
“That was hardly a fair fight,” D-D said while she stood over one of the minions. She looked
up at Airedale and murmured thoughtfully, “If we ever have to invade this planet, it’s not going
to be a pleasant thing for them. They are so unprepared it will be awful.”
“I hope it never comes to that,” Airedale added respectfully. “Like you, we are a peaceful
people for the most part. But, there is a limit. Simply stated, we are watchers trying to maintain a
balance. Our tradition is nomadic in nature. We would only intervene if the devolution got so
severe that the solar system became gravely threatened.” He glanced up and down the hallway. It
was quiet and very still. “They wanna mess up their planet, that’s their business.”
“Well, we are grateful for what you say,” she told him. “However, we have a vested interest
in the evolutionary processes.” She shrugged and joined him at the door to the suspect’s room.
“Unfortunately, at the present time, the species is regressing. At some timeline, a juncture in the
continuum, we may have to do something more drastic than this.”
“I understand, and, as an emissary from my realm,” Airedale wanted to assure her. “I will tell
you this, that we will support your decision to do whatever is necessary.”
“As a liaison from my sphere,” she offered, “likewise and thank you.”
“As a nomadic species, we are not interested in occupying other worlds,” he added carefully,
but with a hint of respect. “Our purpose is to observe and be grateful for what we have. After all,
at the end of a solar cycle, what do you really need in order to survive?”
“Not much, the basics will do just fine,” she replied and kept watch.
“All quiet on this floor,” he said and changed the focus. “If there were six out here, then I
wonder how many are in the room. I don’t sense any others, do you?”
“The security team appears a bit obvious,” she noted in confirmation of his growing concern
about the immediate situation. “They seemed a bit slow didn’t they?” She moved cautiously
toward the objective. “Then again, dimensional flexibility is foreign to them.”
 25

“Not to mention of course, their food chain,” he started with another explanation, while he
angled down the other side of the hallway. Easily, systematically, he matched her movements
and scanned for other adversaries. “I think that’s part of what dulls their senses.”
“Oh that’s a given,” she swiftly agreed. “You know what they eat. All that processed,
chemical laden and reconstituted preservatives destroys brain cells.” For a moment, she put up a
smirk to match his smiling glance. “They’ll never be a challenge for us.”
“As for us, we don’t really care all that much,” he said with a grin. “Just observing, that’s
what we do, meditate on the cause and effect actions and reactions.”
“Ready?” She asked as they took up position outside the quarry’s door.
“Affirmative, let’s get this done,” he answered with a whisper.
In a nano second, a billionth of a second, they faded through the wall, passed beyond the
inner structure, and infiltrated the room. For this moment, unlike the elevator venture, they chose
to fade to bypass the materiality of the surroundings. In this atmosphere, they realized you could
only do this so many times, without needing recuperation. To her, but he agreed, the material
nature of things were of no essential meaning or consequence. Substance of individuality had
more significance than inanimate objects that decay over the ages.
Dimensional constraints possessed limited meaning once you understood the principles that
applied. Cloaked by the shielding of their invisibility, and the meaninglessness of time and
space, they filled the living area with their presence. Their quarry was lounging nearby and
passively enjoying the wealth of his material surroundings. Carefully, the ghostly duo cleared the
apartment. They swiftly inspected for others that might be present. Effortlessly, as specters from
a nightmarish dream, they drifted throughout the expansive suite.
“All clear,” he whispered again to her through the dimensional spacing. “We’re good to go.
Now, if we can find the target of our inquiry. Wait, hear that?” He motioned to her.
“He’s in the bathroom prepping for his debut,” she answered quietly.
“I’m gonna be rich and famous,” a voice echoed from the steamy confines. Harlie Quinn
gazed at his image in the mirror. “What a handsome guy you are,” he bragged. He plashed on
aftershave lotion and patted his face. “Geezus, I’m in the money and know so much.”
“Do you want to take the shot now?” Airedale murmured to D-D
“I have a better idea,” she answered confidently.
“Toss him over the balcony, let him fall, apparent suicide?” He quizzed.
 26

“No, well, close to that, but not so dramatic,” she said with a hushed slant as she plotted
further. She spotted sleeping pills on the nightstand near the bed. “The rift in the spatial
alignment of the time phase, given the calculated properties of the variance, would suggest
something a little more mundane. He had second thoughts, remorse, etc.” She heard movement
from the bathroom. “He may have given us an alternative.” She inched slowly backwards into
the darkness of the shadows. “Wait, hold that thought, cloak, here he comes.”
“A suicide by overdose,” Airedale mused. “I like that idea.”
“I’ll be front page news all over the world,” Quinn hummed as he entered the ornate upper
class environs of the living room. “Ah,” he said as he gazed around the luxurious amenities.
Gently, he tugged the sash of the white comfortable bathrobe with the hotel logo. “Wait till the
UFO crowd gets a load of this stuff.” He held a miniature data drive up and examined it against
the overhead lights. “Talk shows, a book deal, and maybe a movie, geezus, this’ll be the event of
the century. Goddamn aliens coming to my planet and fucking around.”
“Hi we’re the goddamn aliens,” D-D said politely from behind Quinn.
“What the fuck? Where’d you come from?” He shrieked in a shrill voice, almost as though
he’d been groped in the men’s locker room of some clubhouse. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s not important,” Airedale informed him with an officious tone.
“How dare you enter my room,” he demanded in a vocal effort that reeked of anxiety.
“How’d you get passed my security team?” His eyes widened, as fear flushed over his face.
“Who the fuck are you? Do you realize who you are messing with?”
“Of course, we don’t make mistakes,” D-D informed him and noticed his hands twitching
with nervousness. “You are Harlie Quinn, senior intelligence liaison of the FBI to the DARPA
special branch. “We’re here to terminate your intentions and ensure your oath.”
“DARPA? What?” He cringed as he said it. “My oath, what the hell, my contract?”
“You took an oath,” Airedale started to explain and retrieved the data disk. “No, no, don’t
move stay very still.” He stripped Quinn of his robe. “Now that you’re naked, you don’t have
much more to hide from the reality of who you are.”
“Always fascinating to me,” D-D said with a chuckle. “Humans aren’t as big as they think
they are. In fact, their false bravado overstates other aspects of the physicality.”
“She means you have a small penis, earthling,” Airedale said in a deeper voice.
“What the hell, are you kidding me?” Quinn looked paler and looked down.
 27

“No offense, but human males tend to be different from your real ancestors,” D-D proclaimed
with a slant toward regret. “Unfortunately, you have not evolved quite the way we had
anticipated.” She looked at him straight in the eyes. He blinked nervously, the kind of eye
movements a guilty person makes. “Here,” she added and pointed to a red cushioned chair next
to the bed. “Come, sit on this recliner, and let us have a brief chat. And, please don’t do anything
foolish, rash or stupid, in your last moments,” she further admonished him.
“What’re ya implying?” Quinn asked with a skip in his tone and huff of breath. “I’m
protected here, they’ll be looking for me in mere seconds, and I’ll sue all of you. You’re making
a big mistake.” He sat down slowly and nakedly, exposed in a way he had not expected. “I have
friends in powerful places, the news media, lawyers; you can’t violate my rights like this.”
“Outside the U.S., and its continental or territorial borders,” D-D started to warn Quinn.
“And, consistent with international law and treaty, you have no rights.”
“I will have may day in court!” He asserted with a shrill whimper on the end of his sentence.
“Security will be looking for me at any moment, you’ll pay for this.”
“Calm down, you’re grasping for things you do not have, or cannot even begin to acquire,”
Airedale offered while he searched Quinn’s personal effects. From his pocket, he pulled out a
specially designed plastic bag and retrieved Quinn’s laptop computer. Into it, he collected
Quinn’s cell phone, and an assortment of other devices. “Ah, look a disk drive.” He glanced at
Quinn’s startled expression. “All the data you stole, is it on this disk?”
“Uh, well, I have back up in secure locations,” Quinn tried to provoke a ruse.
“How typical of you humans,” Airedale said with a well-composed manner. “Denial is a
significant social aspect, along with a severe penchant for arrogant self-deception.” He sighed as
if bored with the whole affair. “You have nothing anywhere. We would not be here if we thought
there were other items of an important national security interest.”
“National security, my ass,” Quinn said with disdain. “Who are you people?”
“Please, insults are unnecessary,” D-D said with a smile. “I’m certain you cannot fully
comprehend the cosmic probabilities of the cause-effect nature of the interactivity. However, let
it be sufficient to suggest, we are not of this planet. We are the ones you intend to expose.”
“And, you work for us, I mean them,” Quinn stuttered and hug his genitals protectively.
“That’s not important,” she continued. “The essential matter at this juncture, in which we
have warped the time sequence, you must place the balance in proper perspective.”
 28

“We’re in a time warp?” Quinn, in his surly clownish manner interrupted. Arrogant, selfish,
and exceedingly prideful, he remained a foolish frightened jokester. “You’re fucking aliens
working for the DARPA? Geezus, it’s more serious than I thought. Goddamn, I knew it. You
know everything.” He sucked in his bloated midsection and attempted to glance at his genitals
over the fatness of gluttony. “The public has to know, and I’ll be a hero.”
“Nice try, but no way,” Airedale countered quickly. “At the present moment, we’re in a
temporarily stalled spatial continuum. It won’t hold forever, but, suffice it to say, time has no
meaning at this moment. We’re sort of drifting in an endless time phase.” He continued to mix a
liquid concoction that Quinn didn’t notice. “For now, everything around us has stopped.”
“Let’s say it would be somewhat, not precise, nor even an accurate assessment, as to the
occurrence of what earthlings call death. Such suspension is not really a death, but a transition to
another sphere of electromagnetic resonance.” D-D went on to elaborate. Abruptly, she held up a
hand. “And, before you run off on an irrelevant tangent of some causal materiality, the answer is
no.” She caught his puzzled gaze. “This is akin to what you might envision as heaven, or hell.
Those are human inventions. Take it for whatever it means to you in particular. Instead, it is
timelessness, endlessness, darkness, the realm of the dream state, or continuous altered states of
consciousness. Such a spherical essence is reflected by your illumination.”
“Think of it as a bridge, a passage to another dimension,” Airedale sought to console him.
“You have to accept that what happens next is not all that bad.”
“I’m confused,” Quinn said to D-D. “You’re talking about death.”
“Very good, there is some semblance of a sentient nature.” She animated an expression that
might be described as suggesting that such things ought to be obvious. “To continue…”
“Wait, you said the answer is ‘no’, what does that mean?” Quinn asked with a huge
manifestation of doubt etched across his smugly pious face. “You mean like biblical stuff,
eastern mysticism, and so forth? What’s all this have to do with me?”
“Your earth philosophies, religion, and whatever else,” D-D began slowly. “That is the nature
of this planet, which you think will be enlightened by your revelation. On the contrary, Agent
Quinn, the public really doesn’t want to know, and could care less. You see,” she said softly,
“the masses have their beliefs and they do not want them altered, no matter how foolish,
unscientific, or illogical, the species desires its own regression.”
“It’s an unevolving reversion to more primal transitions,” Airedale added.
 29

“But, wait a second; seriously, you’re really aliens?” Quinn stupidly asked again with a
foolish goofy expression. “That means you’re not of this planet?
“Oh please, compliments are not appropriate at this moment,” D-D added. “However, since
you brought it up, yes we are, and we do know everything.”
“So, bottom-line,” Quinn started with another ignorant hint, “I’m right about all this.”
“You seem to be stuck in a psycho-loop here,” Airedale commented.
“As I said earlier, my species started your kind a long time ago.” D-D paused and waited to
see what further affect Quinn might offer pretense. “Actually, on this planet, humankind began
three hundred and thirty-three thousand years ago.” She shook her head with annoyance. “Yes, I
realize you haven’t done much with a four billion year old world.”
“Her kind made some modifications up until about two hundred thousand years ago,”
Airedale pointed at D-D and added with a matter of fact notation. “They couldn’t stop you from
inbreeding with the other life forms, as well as each other, but that is the risk you take.” He took
a long breath and held Quinn’s stupefied gaze. “So, you haven’t changed much. In point of
emphasis, you humans are devolving, contrary to the original design.”
“As humans devolve,” D-D started to explain a little more, “They want more herding and
more simplicity of thinking, and materialistic survival in a regressive, over-simplification of
ideation. That is, they flock, they herd, and they hoard, they inbreed reckless within familial
units. Additionally, they want constant attention and validation, superiority over others; they
abuse and misuse everything they get their hands on. Moreover, within this mass of mutual
contagion, with a very debasing kind of cognitive bias in limited thought variations, like religion,
they persecute outsiders. Selfishness, greed and elitism devalue collective ideals.”
“Hence the excessive compulsive fixations in things of the supernatural, the paranormal or the
other-worldly,” Airedale added thoughtfully. “Belief betrays the science of facts.”
“It becomes exceedingly difficult for the species to ascend beyond a type zero civilization,”
D-D warned with an ominous tone. “As a federal agent with that lofty federal agency, I would
surmise there is a remote possibility you might comprehend these aspects.”
“Yeah, well, so what, they, I mean us, need to know what’s going on,” Harley laughed with a
frightful hint of shrinking potency. “I mean the truth, the people have a right to know,” he
stuttered foolishly and D-D calculated he was reconsidering the superficial nature of his
conjecture. “Uh, freedom of the press, that entire constitutional stuff.”
 30

“Constitutional stuff you call it?” She asked with the knowledge aforethought that suggested
the answer before the question was posed. She sat back and said, “Fascinating.”
D-D spent a moment in silence, so did Airedale, regarding their suspect. Quinn huffed, sighed
heavily, shifted his diminutive genitals and rocked back and forth like a child. For the non-time
intermission, they both considered the folly of his superficial conjecture. She felt the room
temperature change. D-D shook her head from side to side.
“We have a set of tablets,” Airedale added quietly with an aloof perspective of
disappointment. “The supreme law is sacrosanct. Substance of which, the very nature remains
inviolable and revered for all the species. Our life forms have inalienable rights without question
or pretext. No one person can pretend to violate the sanctify of another’s rights.”
“You call it a constitution, or in your words, ‘constitutional stuff’, we greatly respect the
code,” D-D agreed with Airedale. “You of all people, given your status, your place and your
oath, ought to know that. However, that’s a very simplistic way you portray the sanctity of
liberation from oppression. We are very disappointed to say the least.”
“Not only that,” Airedale zoomed in as fast as the coolness of the room. “The debasing
banality betrays the sentient nature of what was originally synthesized. In the theory of homo
sapien transmigration, much more was expected.” He let him ponder that for merely an instant.
This was insufficient for an earthly life form to comprehend. “That is very sad.”
“Unfortunately, given the species’ devolution at this point time,” D-D went on further to
inform Quinn. At the same moment, Airedale handed her Quinn’s bottle of sleeping pills. She
accepted the amber tinted container and glanced at the label. No further commentary on the
contents was need. To him and her, the substances were sufficient. “Suffice it to say, they’re not
ready for such revelations, Mr. Quinn. The world can’t handle such information.”
“He has a prescription for dream medication, I mean, sleep potion,” Airedale added.
“Hmmm, fascinating, note to psych-file,” D-D told herself, but spoke aloud. “Memo, we have
an agent of the FBI who has slumber difficulties. Imagine that if you will. Hmm, could be a
reflection of a struggle going inside the psyche.” She gazed up at Airedale. “Guilt struggles with
the arrogance of self-deception.” She turned back and stared through Quinn. “As to the violation
of your oath of office, your contract with the agency, and multiple breaches of national security,
you have limited options for the justice that is necessary.”
 31

“As to the so called allegations of the public’s right know,” Airedale interjected calmly.
“Even though they have freewill animation, they lack the vitality to ensure rejuvenation of their
ability to handle the aforesaid information. Simply stated, revelation would not be good.”
“But, the truth is supposed to set us free,” Quinn said nervously in a sweat.
“Yes, well, in theory, however,” D-D replied with amusement on her face. At the same
moment, Airedale circled behind Quinn and kept the glass hidden. “Tell me how that has worked
for your species in the past two hundred thousand years?”
“Uh, well, you see, here’s the thing,” Quinn started but fumbled miserably.
“I’ll answer that for you. Instead of ascendency, your kind instigates their own propensity for
self-destruction,” Airedale said with the wave of a gloved hand. “Humans are so good at
deception they deceive themselves. By provocations of agenticity and patternicity, they invoke
the mystique of the mystical to explain everything they don’t want to understand. Secret cover-
ups, hidden powers, and occultic forces drive the worship of superstitions.”
“In other words,” D-D began to state flatly. “Agents of some kind are always behind some
mysterious conspiracy, when people can’t have things explained in simple, uncomplicated ways.
Furthermore, patterns are filled in when blanks occur in insufficient explanations.”
“You mean we act stupid?” Quinn noted at an unusual high rate of speed.
“Pretty much, you’re right on point. Even been on a college campus and listened to some of
the faculty? My goodness, sometimes it is downright scary.” Airedale took a breath and
continued what she was thinking, but wasn’t sure they were on the exact wavelength.
“Disturbing, it is very disappointing how your species has lapsed.” Behind his back, he jiggled
the concoction to make the sediment fully dissolved in the water. “That is one reason why we are
here. In the expanse of the galaxy, the more evolved species watch over others.”
“We are angels who keep the watch so to speak,” she told Quinn. “We’re not here to harm
humans. Our presence is only to ensure that our contribution to planetary transformation does not
get out of hand. Sowing and reaping, as it were, to make certain the harvest is not wasted.” She
held Quinn’s glassed over gaze for a moment. “Are you getting any of this?” She queried in a
respectful tone. “I sense there is detachment on your part. Is that so?”
“Uh, well, uh,” Quinn whimpered with a silly expression. “I think I might understand.”
“I’m not so certain of that,” Airedale said with a frown.
“We’re the progenitors,” D-D added and nodded to Quinn. “We created you.”
 32

“I’m trying to absorb that at this moment,” Harlie blathered, breathed deeply and faked a grin
in a clownish way. “It’s all so weird, strange and even bizarre.” He shivered and shrugged off the
chill. Exposed with the realness of his nude presence, all pretenses began to fade. “Everything
we know, all that we believe,” Quinn stuttered in his continuing babble. He shook his head from
side to side, as if not wanting to accept the reality. “It’s all an illusion.”
“That is essentially correct,” she said modestly, and knew all too well that most people didn’t
really want to the know truth. “Humans are quite skilled at mythical diversions. Magic, metaphor
and mysticism, all speak of a human history well-fabricated in delusion.”
“In fact, we have observed,” Airedale offered, “Humankind take great joy in conjuring all
manner of emotional irrelevancy for their myriad gratifications. Arrogance looms very large
within the species. You would stir up much more confusion and hasten the demise.”
“I would be opening the veil, uh sorta, kinda, huh?” Quinn answered stupidly. “My efforts
would expose the public to a realty they aren’t equipped to comprehend.”
“Yes, indeed you would. As to your creation, back in those prehistoric eras, I am that I am, so
that you are what you are, and fail to be what you were supposed to be,” D-D answered with a
hint of gloominess. “But, suffice it to say, that didn’t work out and we erred grievously.”
“According to their scientists, who, on their planet, are actually their philosophers,” Airedale
wanted him to know, and pointed to D-D. “Life should be one of intentional liberation from
primordial bondage. The pull of creation is to invent mythic expiation. However, free will does
allow for the ingredients of self-gratification. Unless, controlled, through rigorous discipline, as
on her planet, devolution is an established cosmic principle. That of course is the regressive
inclination for selfishness in your species. By contrast though, it is not all that difficult to
transform. You have to be willing to work very hard to overcome yourself.”
“Basically, Harlie, you are tampering with things you do not understand,” D-D admonished
the once proud, pompous and overly confident federal agent. “There are wide spread
implications to your intended selfishness for personal gain.” She rolled her shoulders back and
sat up straight. “You are typical of those who over-compensate for shortcomings.”
“Aside from the obvious major disadvantages of a sudden revelation,” Airedale added and
changed the discussion to another aspect. “Your anticipated fame will be short-lived. Human
attention span is quite limited. You would have about a week of notoriety. After that, the masses
will move on to something newer.” He sighed impatiently. “Entertainment fades fast.”
 33

“Yes, you know this, am I right? Come now, you’re a revered federal officer,” D-D began at a
slower pace. “You insist that your title, status and pretense to expertise be respected.” She
remained cognizant of the time-lapse suspension. “In addition, you are well-versed in
bureaucratic bafflegab of an impenetrable nature.” Still thought, neither she nor Airedale
overlooked the necessity of activating the normal sequences of spatial delineation. D-D
continued her advisement of the wayward former agent. “You will have some level of credibility,
even among those who don’t think outside a primal perspective.”
“Myth, magic and mayhem will ensue,” Airedale warned and nodded with a wise and aloof
expression. “You will cause a stir for a time among many dissident groups.”
“All things come to an end, including a life-cycle,” D-D said with confidence.
“Since most humans are not concerned with higher development, you will have some
impact,” Airedale picked up where she took a breath. “The duration will fade with the shortest
nexus of the timeline. Other forces at work on this planet with take advantage of you.”
“Aliens will attack the earth?” Quinn quickly queried with a vocal inflection that suggested
the deflation of his presumed over-inflation. Bamboozled by his own ineptness, due to the
egoistic distractions of his own deception, he said, “There’s an invasion coming, right?”
“What? Are you serious?” Airedale appeared shocked. For a series of non-seconds, for which
time had no use for, he turned away and paced a few steps. He held up the glass and evaluated
the liquid contents. A little startled, he turned back and went on, “My goodness, do not flatter
yourself with such foolishness. What on this earth causes you to think that?”
“You mean that’s not gonna happen?” Quinn asked another foolhardy question.
“I get it, you’re joking, correct?” D-D asked him with a smile.
“No, I figured all this was about a cover-up,” Quinn began to answer. “And, at some point,
aliens were plotting to invade earth and abduct us for experimentation.”
“Why on this earth would we do that?” D-D echoed her concern, which included
disappointment about the declining future of human capacity for logical analysis. “There is no
reason to invade the earth. We already know everything we need to know.”
“We’re simply peacekeepers on a very dangerous planet,” Airedale said to him. “Uh, what
you would call observers, watchers, as I alluded to earlier in our discussion.”
“Do you seriously think another species would come here and invade?” D-D asked, hunting
for a more definitive response. “There’s nothing of significant cosmic value.”
 34

“Nothing of value?” Quinn quizzed with a stupefied look that seemed to freeze his wrinkled
forehead in time. Punchy from the stress, he said, “But, we have great potential. I don’t accept
that. I mean, we can do better.” He caught D-D’s skeptical non-verbal response. “Okay, maybe
not so good so far. I can help turn things around, and we can learn. Once I get the secrets
revealed, the public will know, and we can makes changes. You people can help.”
“Please, do not insult us by saying things like ‘you people’.” D-D frowned. “The answer is
no, we won’t collaborate with the human race. We did that once. What did your species do with
that knowledge? You wrote cleverly contrived myths. You kind terrorized the evolutionary
processes of electromagnetic transmigration of cellular transformation.”
“What the heck is that?” the joker responded with another query.
“Precisely,” D-D answered with another frown and a snarl. “Subatomic spiritual creation is a
more likely literation for you to…” she side glanced Airedale. “Well, maybe begin to
understand, although I seriously doubt it. It’s life reborn from primal sources.”
“Look, Quinn,” Airedale added quickly. “Your species has polluted the planet, depleted the
natural resources, over-populated your living centers, and created conspicuous bloated
consumption of everything.” He paused and let that settle. “Furthermore, your entertainment is
nothing more than grandiose advertisements to consume more and invent nothing sustainable.”
“Your democracies are a sham, your tyrannies are an abomination to cosmic life forms,” D-D
went on. And, the wealthy have enslaved entire population groups. You insist on perpetuating
oppressions in myriad forms. Plus, you continue to spread war, disease and famine. For all that,
such has brought about the time for humankind to go quietly into extinction.”
“Quinn, here drink this, you’ll feel better,” Airedale said soothingly. He noticed that Harley
was sweating profusely, breathing had escalated, and his hands shook with persistent tremors.
“Shhh, it’s okay, this will help you relax and accept the inevitable. There, there, that’s it, take it
all. That’s a good chap. Ah, down to the last drop, well done.”
“Doesn’t taste like water, a little chalky flavor,” Quinn absently commented.
“Water based, the elixir is a special mixture,” Airedale explained superficially. “At any rate,
the substance is completely soluble and dissipates immediately from the body.”
“It’s untraceable during an autopsy,” D-D whispered mysteriously.
“What? Wait, I feel faint, I think I’m going to…” Quinn collapsed.
“Everything is arranged,” Airedale said to D-D.
 35

“Ah, finally, to shut him up, oh my, the pantheon of invented gods and goddesses,” D-D
gasped with restrained derision and rubbed her palm over her face. “My goodness, Airedale, I
don’t know about you, but he was really compressing my energy circuits. He’s a certifiable
fruitcake soufflé. With all that education and experience, I expected a lot more.”
“As we have found, with humans, education and training are no guarantee of sentient
ascendency.” Airedale simply blinked a few times. “They still think they evolved from apes.
They’ve built cults around that conjecture with no substantial evidence. Try to figure that one
out. Not only that, every thirty thousand year era they were supposed to transform. What the
heck went wrong with your ancient configurations for transmutation?”
“That’s what I’m still working on,” D-D offered as though an apology to another species.
“Let’s get him into the bed and reset the time-phase, put the essence back on track.”
“Okay, there you go, how does that look?” Airedale said to her after a few more non-phases
of short duration had seemingly passed. “This appears to be a suicide by overdose.”
“I’m sure the local authorities will accept the appearances,” D-D agreed.
“If not, we can always manipulate the data later,” Airedale assured.
“His alleged secrets have been recreated with a sufficient level of psychobabble.” D-D tossed
a glance at Quinn’s laptop. “I made sure his so called revelations have many ruses. Inquisitive
and conspiratorial types will spend a long time trying to decipher the nonsense.”
“Very good, that should work in our favor,” Airedale patted her on the back as they stood at
the door and surveyed the scene one last time. “Uh huh, no suicide is a nice touch.”
“Humans generally don’t leave one behind when they self-exit.” D-D scanned the area
carefully. “We don’t want to provide any basis for further speculation.”
“Absolutely, we were never here,” Airedale added with a wry grin.
“Whew, now on to the next bit of tidying up the little messes they cause,” D-D said while
they waited in the elevator. In the lobby, she commented, “Hmm, an anxious crowd with excited
reporters and cult followers, all packed as thick as crowded sheep.”
“Wandering believers wanting to desperately believe,” Airedale answered. “How long you
calculate they have before your species starts the experiment over again?”
“Approximately sixty-six point six earth years,” she said. “Life is a paradox and a wanderlust
to find one’s alien origin. They don’t have much longer.” D-D glided invisibly with him through
the ornate doorway. “Sad, yet the space time dream continuum never ends.”
 36

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