Observing the Experiment | By: Michael Christopher Thompson | | Category: Short Story - Sci-Fi Bookmark and Share

Observing the Experiment

Observing the Experiment


This work protected by copyright. Copying material from here without my expressed written permission is against the law. The electronic documents posted here are the intellectual property of Michael Christopher Thompson II. Copyright 2010.


    The world was a rational place. Things that went bump in the night were nothing more than strange universal coincidences, intruded upon by human fear to become imaginary bogeymen. It seemed so obvious. It seemed so right. What else could be true? There weren’t any monsters. There weren’t any questions that didn’t have comprehensible answers. What we didn’t know we would come to know through observation and experimentation. I used to have faith in society. I thought we would turn out okay. I thought like most people thought.
    None of it was true. I ended up surprising myself. For so many years, there was a voice in the back of my head - one of many voices. That voice told me “You’re crazy, you know that?” It didn’t make any sense. How could I be crazy? Everything was safe and secure. Society was at it’s pinnacle. Sure, there were problems, and it was obvious that we weren’t the society we would eventually become. But things were right on track. How could I be crazy? My thoughts were in line with everyone else’s. And everyone could not be crazy. The very idea seemed offensive.
    Fate had other plans for me than to go on believing what I believed, however. I tripped and fell down the rabbit hole in March of 2003 - that was the year that everything began to make sense to me. I was off to a slow start, of course, because before I became a conspiracy researcher, I would have laughed at the idea of conspiracies. I was no idiot. Clearly our government had acted to cover up or instigate certain events - it had even been publicly declared that the Gulf of Tonkin incident was a staged false flag attack to get us into the Vietnam war and the public had not even batted an eye in disbelief. No one cared. That war was over 30 years ago. Who gave a shit about the dead millions? It was 9/11 that broke me. It didn’t make sense. The story seemed like such obvious bullshit. I wondered how anyone could buy it, but for a year and a half I kept my mouth shut and my mind shut to further exploration of the concept. The idea that our government could have allowed it to happen, or worse, participated in the demolition of the buildings, was really too much for me to bear.
    I know now that problems are a human condition, that corruption is not the result of “one too many greedy people.” All people are greedy, and some people are just better at manifesting their desires than others. There are ethics to be considered, of course, but ethics are really only guidelines for skirting guilt. We want what we want. And we will get it, if we really want it.
    We are all greedy. Mother Theresa was greedy, because she craved Heaven so much she was willing to suffer, and to help others suffer for it. Some might say this is not greed, but how it is not? It is a desire that one feels so strongly about that he or she will go any length to manifest it. The Pope - well, that’s a no-brainer. The Vatican is one of the richest states in the world, and they tell people in Africa to stop wearing condoms because it goes against God’s will. Africa, one of the most impoverished continents on the planet, being told to keep fucking and getting AIDS by one of the richest, whitest institutions in human history. Isn’t it funny that so many people still buy it? But it’s dying. I saw it back then. That was going away. We were evolving. The dark ages were truly almost behind us. At least, that’s what I thought.
    I guess I’ve always been a smart one - at least, quicker than others, if still entirely susceptible to bullshit. We are all susceptible to bullshit. Most experts are only experts are researching bullshit. Government scientists are the biggest bullshit pushers of all. I knew this. I was disillusioned, disenchanted, atheistic, and I didn’t know what to make of anything. How had the fucking world come to be so horrible? How had so many mistakes been made, and how had the legacies of those mistakes been preserved for so long, and in fact glorified? How is that filthy rich people who throw a dime to a starving wino actually think they’re being good people and doing a good thing for the world?
    One of my ex-girlfriends named Alicia - who is probably dead now, along with 80% of the global population (likely more) - once told me “I don’t think people are obligated to spread out their wealth. People earn their wealth, and people who don’t have any wealth can simply earn it for themselves.” “That’s funny,” I replied, “what about babies who starve to death at two years old?” She didn’t know how to respond, but her left-brain was working in it’s usual way and she managed to (somewhat shamefully) pull out the “Blame it on their parents” argument. Yes, always blame it on someone else. The children should blame their parents for letting them starve, and not the rich bastards who had caused their nation to become impoverished as well, who had created maladjusted and desperate people to give birth to doomed children.
    Of course, arguments like this were alien to Alicia. She had never met a starving African child. Neither had I, for that matter. It didn’t dilute my compassion however. I know what causes global poverty - fucking rich people cause it. They always have. You can only be rich when someone else doesn’t have as much as you - otherwise we’d all be equally wealthy. There are all kinds of arguments for and against socialism and I largely don’t concern myself with such ridiculous abstract concepts. Who cares about socialism and capitalism? I care about starving children. I don’t care about how they’re fed, I just want them to be fed. And people who bitch and moan and complain about feeding those children are very likely the same people who are helping starve them to death in the first place.
    Humans have always exalted themselves. The lucky ones, the ones born in nice countries with somewhat nice families and nice bank accounts that they inherit from nice dead grandparents - those people have to make a lot of lofty excuses. The excuses usually range from “It’s not my problem,” - one of the least lofty excuses - to “It’s their problem,” one of the loftier ones. The latter is a good argument because these sociopath socialites have all kinds of reasons, some of which are well-thought out and others of which are not (most of which aren’t), and these reasons are used almost like weapons against the psychological threat of the guilt and shame that they should be feeling.
    It’s fun to go buy a brand new house - or a second one, or a third one. It’s really fun to have a basement garage with twenty to thirty cars that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars a piece. It’s not fun to starve to death in the Sahara desert, or to contemplate people starving to death in the Sahara desert. However, doesn’t it make perfect sense? How else can you exalt your own wealth if you don’t make others a party to your crime? Over time the wealthy socialites realized that the only way they were going to kill compassion was by sharing their own greed with everyone.
    And it’s only natural of course, because in our genetics lies a deep fear of poverty. When we see these people in other countries, we think “Thank God we aren’t like them,” and then we change the channel. Some of us pray for them, and some of us do a lot more, but most of us simply don’t do anything. We don’t even think about it. We don’t try to change the minds of others, because in the Western world, that is a dangerous game. To actually go around trying to change things makes you a target, and in the Western world, where money rules all, targets are quite easy to hit. Wealth can buy perfect accuracy.
    And so America and Europe and everything in between simply ignored things. At least the public did. I’m sure that the wealthy socialites did their best to help maintain and groom and domesticate this ignorance. They had always done a good job in the past, so why stop?
    Things just didn’t make sense to me. And that’s when I heard a conspiracy researcher on the radio. His name was Dr. Gordon Levitt, and everything he said on that day made perfect sense to me. It was March of 2003. I remember listening to him one morning while at my job - a horrible factory job in a steel mill, assembling parts for cars. Cars that helped destroy the planet. Yes, I was doing my part in wreaking havoc as well, so it was a little hypocritical of me to complain myself, but I felt like at least I was aware of the problem whereas others actually viewed the problem as a blessing from God.
    Dr. Levitt said many things on that day that rang true to me, that seemed to pull all of the puzzle pieces together. “This world is run by a group of elite families,” he had started, and although now that I’ve become extremely familiar with the world of conspiracy research and know that this concept is one of the most cliché conspiracy topics out there, at the time it was startlingly new to me. Something that I had never considered before. Of course, I knew it, didn’t I? The royal families of Europe made no secret of the fact that they shared a power alliance. It was just “common knowledge” that their power wasn’t “real.” In elementary school, I was told that the Royal Family of England could be easily thrown out of power if they had ever challenged the authority of the British Parliament.
    I find that to be quite funny now, because it’s obvious who is really in charge of things. Or at least, who really was in charge of things. Before the bombs fell. But I’ll tell you about all that in a little bit.
    “These families have run the world for centuries,” Dr. Levitt said. Something about his initial statement had simply hooked me like a fishhook. I had gone from not paying attention to the radio, not really caring what was being said, to being instantly energized and I became attentive immediately. “They wrote the Bible, they wrote the Quran, they wrote the Old Testament thousands of years ago… the Bible tells us who they are,” he had gone on. “They are the thirteen lost tribes of Israel. But they’re not lost and they never have been. These bloodlines have been taught to believe in each generation by the previous one that God gave them the right to rule over this planet, and they really believe it.” I knew it was true. I don’t know how. I felt like my spirit was ringing again - for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. I heard a calling. I heard something for the first time whispering faintly into my ears, “Listen, this part is important.”
    “Their Holy books allude to them, and the fact that they are so old actually convinces these people that they have a divine right to rule over us and to punish us.” The radio host - a rather stupid man named Gary “Pig Guy” Jackson (yes, he really referred to himself as Pig Guy on the radio) - asked “So who are these people?” I wondered why someone like Dr. Levitt was on a radio show run by Pig Guy, buy I assumed he was just making the rounds onto all the radio stations to promote some book or another. He was, but I never read the book and I forget what it’s title was. “Giants Walk Amongst Us” or something like that. I did my own research shortly after and came to a lot of conclusions, but Gordon Levitt was only the starting point and not particularly a favored guru of mine. You see, I thought the title was a metaphor. Turns out, he was speaking literally. I’ll get to that in a moment. What he said that day really did make sense and in spite of what I discovered about him later, he knew what he was talking about on Pig Guy’s morning show.
    “Well, for one, you have the royal families throughout all of Europe. Also a lot of rich American bloodlines, oil tycoons and bankers… the banking industry is the favorite method of control of these families,” he stated. That made sense to me. I heard a loud click in my mind. “Everyone loves money, and this is how they rule the world. They hold that money in front of people like a carrot on a stick, and people will do anything to get that carrot, especially if they’re starving. They will kill, maim, and sometimes even cannibalize their own family members. I mean that literally and symbolically. They create a false reality of scarcity when in reality we don’t have any scarcity on this planet. We could feed all six billion people right now if we wanted to, but instead we just have greedy nations and families hoarding away the food or worse, intentionally wasting it. Can you believe in America we have an initiative to turn corn into fuel when there are starving people in our own country? Why wouldn’t we just feed them that corn? Why? I ask you, why?”
    I knew why, and I didn’t know why. The left-side of my brain said “We can’t feed them the corn because it’s not practical, we have to stop carbon emissions, we have to stop pollution to save the planet.” The right side of my brain said “Then you can stop driving and making cars and worry about more important things, like feeding people.” These two sides of my brain were constantly at war, which is of course part of the typical human condition.
    Gordon had gone on about the families and I was buzzing with energy to go home and research him some more. When I got home, I was sorely disappointed with what I found. Mr. Levitt also believed that these families were actually extra-terrestrial giants that had the ability to shape shift down to normal size and blend in with human society, and that they had come here to colonize the earth thousands of years ago. He didn’t mention this on the radio of course, because Pig Guy only had an audience of people who would have changed the station the second that they heard the two words “extra” and “terrestrial” in conjunction. And I would have too, back then.
    For a year, I was reminded randomly throughout my life with various synchronicities of what Mr. Levitt had said on Pig Guy’s morning show. As a person, he seemed to be a somewhat shady character. The idea that giants were shape shifting down to normal size was just silly. It was just a bit too fantastic. I didn’t care for the aliens bit, but somehow I still knew he was right about the royal families. They really did run things, didn’t they? They always had. And why is it that all religious books seem to place the moral and spiritual authority in the hands of these people? Why is it that we are told to submit to the laws of our nations, to give unto Caesar moneys owed, to give in without question? Submission was the key word. All of those books said to submit. I had never agreed with any of them, because they all explicitly promote human sacrifice and murder, but somehow others had found a way to believe that the dark gods they were worshiping which emanated within these books were actually gods of love and peace.
    How can a god promote peace while at the same promoting warfare? How can God say “Thou shalt not kill,” and then say “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live?” It made no sense to me, and whereas others were in favor of coming up with extremely long, ridiculous explanations to bridge these contradictions, I simply saw them for what they were and were: contradictions. Contradictions that made no sense. Contradictions that revealed that religious people didn’t worship gods at all, that they worshiped books written by long dead warlords who were smart enough to know how to brainwash large populations of people.
    So for a year, not much happened except I would occasionally reflect that Gordon had been right about at least one thing.
    Then in the Fall of 2004, I saw my first UFO. It was not something I was looking for, and it is probably the strangest thing that has ever happened to me in my life. I was lying in a field, just looking up at the stars - one of my favorite hobbies. I looked at the bright red star at the burning at the edge of the Orion constellation, wondering what it would be like to live on a planet orbiting that strangely colored ball of light. Then, simply out of nowhere, it disappeared. I stared up, wondering what had happened to it - there were no clouds out tonight, at least not that I could see. Then a silver disc formed in front of it, and there was a circular pattern along the bottom of the disc where orbs of lights of multiple colors flashed rhythmically. There were seven in all - red, orange, yellow, green, sky blue, indigo and a deep violet. I don’t know how long I stared at that thing - it could have been hours. I remember I stared for a long time, amazed, sure that I was hallucinating.
    I awoke the next morning in the field when a young boy was shaking me awake. “Mister,” he asked. “Are you okay?” I shook my head and sat up, and didn’t say anything for a moment as he continued to stare at me. What a strange dream I had had, and I then dozed off in the field and slept there all night… this was not something I had ever done before and it seemed entirely unlike me.
    I left that field and went home, then took a real nap in my bed for about four hours. When I woke up, I contemplated the incident and wrote in my journal about it. I had never had such a vivid dream before in my life.
    I saw a UFO one other time before the bombs fell. Now I see them all the time, and I’m not the only one. Anyone who is left alive can see them, and they hover up in the sky unmoving day and night, just strobing their strange lights. I don’t know why. They don’t land, they don’t move, they don’t talk to anyone, they just hang there in the sky.
    The second time I saw one (before the bombs) was in Washington D.C. in 2006. I was staying in a hotel room - my first book had already come out, and it was called “Mysterious Children” - a silly, presumptuous title, but one that at least made me a top-ten best-seller, which is strange for a conspiracy researcher. The title came from a case where a woman supposedly gave birth to children that were fathered by aliens. She claimed these aliens were tall, looked somewhat humanoid except for a few differences. They had blonde hair, so blonde that it was almost white. Light blue eyes that were rather bulbous. Paper-white skin and cherry red lips. They sounded like strange caricatures of humans, and the thought that they might actually exist haunted me. The children did look rather strange, and they were all tall, light-skinned, blue-eyed and blonde-haired. DNA tests showed that they were entirely human, however. I met them. They didn’t seem very human to me.
    The first child seemed much wiser than his age would lead me to believe. He was supposed to be 10. He talked like a 50 year old man. I had one conversation with him, which lasted only five minutes. At the end, he had told me not to bother with the books. That remark wasn’t printed. I think I see what he meant now. And I think he knew something. And so did the other children. But that doesn’t matter anymore.
    That night as I stood on the balcony of my Hilton hotel room, I was looking up at the half-cloudy night sky watching the large puffs of condensation float across it and as one moved out of the way, leaving the night clear behind it, it revealed the same type of saucer that I had “dreamed” about so many years ago, hanging there in the sky and hovering. As I stared at it for a moment, I began to become lost in it’s strobe lights, and then it simply faded out, disappeared, almost turned into static before ceasing to exist entirely. Or more likely, it had simply turned invisible.
    In my second book, “The Right-Hand of God” I did not mention aliens. In fact, I was afraid to mention that I had seen a UFO twice personally or that I was starting to believe that perhaps Gordon Levitt had been right. In “Mysterious Children” I had simply reported the facts of a scientific inquiry into the genetic lineage of the children, the mother’s report, and my interviews with the children themselves. My conclusion had been that the children were entirely human and that perhaps there was something else going on that was beyond our understanding. How I had managed to climb to the #1 spot on the New York Times best-seller list, I didn’t know. Perhaps the timing was right. There were plenty of movies out about aliens then and there was even a successful movie based loosely on the story of the mother. Perhaps I just happened to align with the spirit of the times. Or maybe I was just lucky.
    “The Right Hand of God” was about my investigation into a secret society that I never really figured out whether or not existed. From the reports I heard, they called themselves “the Grace Society” and they existed many thousands of years ago, using many different names but all seeming to involve the concept of “grace.” They sounded like a bunch of maniacs to me. I had a bunch of corroborated stories that I included in the book, but I never met anyone who actually claimed to be a part of this society, or anyone who would mention the name of anyone who was in it. I only heard the names of dead people. And all of the names that were mentioned had been dead for over a century of more. What fascinated me most was that if this were some kind of fraud, why would there be such organization to the stories? Many of the names mentioned were the same. It did make sense, although making sense does not make truth. It was the conviction in the voices of these “informants” that got to me.
    This “Grace Society” existed to create disorder. The idea is that by creating disorder, they help to create evolution and bestow the “grace” of God on the world. They are actually angels in disguise, according to this philosophy, posing as devils because they have to do the work of God. It’s certainly a philosophy of sociopaths. Unfortunately the only evidence I ever came to about their existence was hearsay. No one ever confirmed my story in any substantial way. As a result, my book sales weren’t so great. I wasn’t #1. I wasn’t even in the top 20. The reviews were horrible. I thought my career was over, although I was determined to move along with my head held high. Because something stranger was happening.
    I was starting to believe that Dr. Gordon Levitt might be right. Not necessarily about the shape shifters being giants, but about the shape shifters existing? Some of the people I had interviewed for the Grace Society book had acted rather strangely. Some of them had… I don’t know. Smoked? Shimmered? Some of them wore sunglasses which they would not take off. Only a few, but those three really made an impression on me. The first was named Mark Sarkos. He was a normal white man, blonde hair. I didn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses. The second was a Japanese woman named Siu Sae Esko. She looked mostly normal, but for a second her teeth looked… strange. The third guy was named Alex Saer. He was the creepiest. I got the impression that he really did not like me, in spite of the fact that he had initiated our contact. And when he said the word “humans” it sounded like he didn’t like to include himself as a part of the group.
    It occurred to me that it would necessarily be a part of the plan for these elite families to ridicule anyone who figured out what was really going on. There was of course another explanation - that these flying craft I was seeing were government craft, and they were messing with me specifically in order to make me go crazy and to help me discredit myself. Although I hadn’t drawn a conclusion, perhaps they hadn’t wanted any light shed on this particular case. Perhaps the results of their DNA test had been altered. That’s only speculation on my part.
    All of this ceased to matter last October of 2013. That was six months ago. That was when the bombs fell.
    The first one fell in London. It was a nuclear bomb and it nearly destroyed the entirety of England. While the world was reeling, while the news cameras were soaking up as much human misery and tragedy as they could to broadcast out in the world, a second nuclear bomb had gone off in New York City. Then, twenty-three minutes later, one had gone off in Tokyo. Then Moscow. Then no one knows where the next one went off, because there were no more news broadcasts. Why bother? Everyone figured the end had finally come. The panic had started. I saw men and women running through the streets screaming “REPENT!” and I saw people cutting off their own body parts at cross walks, holding them up to the sky and shouting “Forgive me! Forgive me, Father!”
    The things I saw that day were far more insane than seeing a flying saucer hovering in the sky and strobing rainbow lights.
    I saw a mother throw her baby out of a fourteen story high-building - she threw it from the top story. She shrieked out into the air something unintelligible, and then she leaped herself out after the child and came within twenty feet of ending my own life from landing on me. I ran, and I ran for a long time. I talked to no one. I knew there was nowhere to hide, at least not from the bombs, but I had to hide from the maniacs running around in the city. At the time, I was in San Francisco. The shit had truly hit the fan.
    I don’t know what day it is, or even what month. I just know it’s been a long time. I don’t know why I am writing this down, and I’m sorry that the story is so vague. I wish I could give you more details, but sadly I guess I didn’t live long enough to get them myself, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter. The bombs were going to go off anyway, right? Even those families can’t hide now… or perhaps they were hiding before they set off the bombs. Perhaps the bombs were just set off by religious extremist terrorists. I have no way of knowing this.
    What I do know is that when I go outside at night, I still see that damned saucer hovering in the sky and strobing it’s lights, but it does not come down and offer aid of assistance. It also doesn’t vaporize anyone. I don’t know why it’s there. Perhaps it’s just observing us destroy ourselves, perhaps we are just a lesson to some other planet, perhaps they are recording the destruction and they will show the video in their strange distant schools to their young ones to remind them not to act like human beings. Sometimes I think we’re an experiment. The earth is a petri dish. And maybe they’re just observing us, seeing what happens when you put a bunch of selfish souls on the same planet. That seems most likely. Observing the experiment like a bunch of sadistic scientists, watching us starve and burn to death. Taking notes as we die.
    Perhaps. But I have no way of knowing.
    The only thing I know is that none of it ever mattered. Nothing I cared about ever mattered. When I wanted to help those starving people, when I wanted to reveal the families that were running things, when I wanted to snap people out of the dream - none of it mattered.
    Because the bombs still dropped.

-Mark, 2014?

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