HAARP - CONFIDENTIAL

[Harconen]

The Truth Is Written

The journal was bound in black. Sky had decorated the outside with nail polish and the inside pages were full of illustrations she had drawn. There were also pieces of paper, menus, tickets and business cards of people and places we visited - all pasted and carefully documented. At first, I thought it was a beautiful piece of art and I was about to put it down and commend her for being so thorough with her recording.

But I did not put it down. I was interested in her account of the lights and wanted to know what they had been relaying to her, or if she was somehow delusional. I knew that I had witnessed some unexplained things, but perhaps I was just getting caught up in the exotic ambiance of Yemen.

I found the dates for our first encounter in the Empty Quarter. I read about her message in the car, her notes on the imploding cloud and her account of the lights near the Ishtar Temple. So far, there was nothing unexpected.

But as I read on I noticed that Sky had become obsessed with the lights. She detailed her attempts at communicating and even had names for the first light, Ellie, which was short for El Shaddai. The notes were personal and documented the effect all of this was having on her. I scanned down the pages, half reading the words, looking for some clues that would explain her reticent moods. Then I focused on the word "monster."

There were suddenly many references to "the monster" on the pages, and long narratives of how much she detested and loathed him. The monster seemed to be showing up every day and seemed always to frighten. She wanted to be away from him.

Sure enough, it was me. I was that monster. Somehow I had become vilified. I had become the protagonist in her journal. From the night at Al Mukalla, when I had questioned the lights on the ocean, I was the enemy. She spent as much time chiding me as she did writing about Yemen.

I was stunned. The book dropped to the bed and I returned to my room. Sky had been my best friend and confidant. We had shared so much and had enjoyed each other's companionship. Nevertheless, she apparently hated me. It made no sense. I had never mistreated her. Yemen suddenly seemed like a chamber in hell and I felt the whole adventure had abruptly turned to sand.

All that evening I was anxious to confront her, but she didn't return to her room until after I was asleep. I didn't really feel like sleep. The room was small and ugly. But my energy had run dry, like a depleted battery, and I fell into an involuntary coma. I even slept through the last call to prayer.

I woke up in the night in a sweat again. It was another nightmare, or rather the same nightmare. I dreamed of that little boy, the goat and the old woman. This time they were back in Monument Valley, where I had originally seen them. There was that same sense of urgency and impending doom. I searched for Sky. I wanted to take her away from the danger, but she was nowhere to be found. The old lady appeared, clothed in a veil. The little boy and the goat walked in front of her. They all disappeared around the corner of a mesa and I hurried to follow. But this time something unexpected happened. The mesa simply crumbled and fell, signaling my cue to wake up.

It was a few hours before sunrise and the morning prayers. I laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling until I could hear the noises from the kitchen and smell the flat bread cooking. I felt like shit. I tried to shave but my hands shook and I cut my face. I finished washing and went straight for the dining room and the fresh coffee.

While I sat drinking my coffee, I decided not to mention anything to Sky. I could see Abdul washing the Toyota with his water bottle and I did not want to subject him, or anyone else, to what might result from some sort of confrontation. While I sat there, Sky came down and joined me at the table and shared some of my bread.

Sky was tired but showed no signs of being afraid of me, or of hating me. She even asked about the translations and I told her that she had been correct in guessing their meaning. But was it a guess? Or did she have some innate ability to read this dead language?

We talked about Abdul and laughed at the weak coffee. There was no sign of conflict and, for a moment, things seemed to return to normal. But were they?

[Harconen]

Our next destination was in an old palace that had been converted to a museum. It has dozens of ancient artifacts with the old alphabet, mixed with more recent material that was written in Himyaritic script. The more recent script used many of the same letters as the Sabaeans, but these letters had a different phonetic meaning to accommodate either the Semitic or Arabic dialects.

At the Sheba site, Mohammed was using a 2000 year old dialect to translate writing that was a thousand years older. While Arabic is derived from a Semitic tongue, like proto-Canaanite, and does share many of the same words, the linguistics are vastly different.

The Semitic writers liked to string many long sentences together with words like "but," "and," "also." In contrast, the Himyaritic text from Ethiopia used a vertical line to denote the end of a word or phrase.

Proto-Canaanites were fond of using "to make" as their predicate, instead of "to be." In practical terms this would mean that the proto-Canaanites might write, "I made to build a great temple," while the same phrase in Arabic would be, "A great temple was built by me." It appeared that this distinction was not relevant in the museums of Yemen. Artifacts and stones of different eras were displayed side by side. I learned to search for the older writing by scanning the stone for pairs of the letters "nun-lamed," to "make" or "produce," and I would only attempt to translate these items.

Sky followed me around the exhibits and copied the letters while I hunted for more artifacts. Eventually I got ahead of her and discovered a beautiful piece of orange granite with a very worn and faded script. It has the "nun-lamed" letters and I carefully copied the text in my notebook. For some reason, the stone was displayed with the script upside down. I made a note of this and continued through the museum.

We eventually left the museum and walked through a small suq that sold antique jewelry and dresses. Sky stopped and looked at some necklaces while I sat outside the shop. An old man with a beard was sitting in the shade on the curb, nodding his head rhythmically in silent prayer. I watched as passers by approached him and gave him coins. When his head turned towards me I could see that he was blind in both eyes.

Islam is a compassionate faith. One of the demands that is imposed upon Muslims is the giving of alms to the poor and disabled. Unlike Western culture, Islam does not look down on the unfortunate and resent their support. On the contrary, this blind man was actually helping those that gave him money by allowing them to meet their obligation to Allah.

I noticed that the old man was keenly aware of his surroundings, despite the cloudiness of his eyes. He thanked everyone who made donations while his fingers mechanically moved a string of prayer beads in his right hand.

When Sky exited the jewelry shop, she walked in front of the man. He immediately became agitated and began to shout. Ahmed motioned for me to follow him quickly and we hurried from the suq with the man now yelling excitedly in our direction. I could not tell what he was saying but it made the people in the suq stop and glare at us. Later, in Arabic, when Ahmed explained the incident to Abdul and Nasser he used the "jinn" word again.

When we returned to the hotel I went straight to my air conditioned room to download some photographs I had taken with a digital camera. Sky was in her room, writing in her journal. I was much too hot to do anything. After a few minutes my telephone rang.

"Mister Dan. Could you please come down to the lobby?" It was Ahmed. "Is Sky with you? Please if you could come alone. Is this possible?"

I agreed and quickly went to the lobby where I found Ahmed and another well dressed man. The man was introduced to me as the director of the museum we had just visited. He told me that he had heard of my work from the Minister in Sana'a and he wanted to ask me a favor.

He held a manila envelope and handed it to me. It contained a black and white photograph of the same stone I had seen earlier, displayed upside down. "Mister Dan. Can you please see if you can translate this?"

Ahmed smiled at me. "I have tell him that you can do this. I hope that you can do this now? Or maybe later? And I will give to him something that you will write for me?"

It was a long script, four lines of about a dozen characters each, but I had already recognized some familiar words. I agreed to work on the translation immediately and Ahmed assured the man, in Arabic, that he would meet with him later and give him the results.

When the man left, Ahmed asked me to sit with him for a minute. "You see this man who you just met? He is very important man. There is something special about the stone? I don't know. But you can do this now for him?"

"Sure. No problem."

Ahmed asked me about Sky. "So. Things are better with you and Sky?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I suppose they could be considered better if I forgot the "monster" comments in her journal. I confided in Ahmed that I really did not know her very well and that she seemed to be overwhelmed by the cultural differences in Yemen. I told him that I was worried about the attention she was getting and the apparent obsession she had with the lights.

Ahmed was upset at my mention of the lights. "Yes. She is always writing in that book. What is she writing about. The lights?"

I joked that she was probably, at that very moment, writing in the journal. Ahmed shared my concern. He suggested that he would call Sky and take her to have chai while I worked on the translation. It seemed like a healthy distraction and he went to call her while I returned with the photograph.

The stone was about three feet wide and a foot tall. It was chopped at both ends, like so many salvaged examples of the Sabaean masonry, and had been recycled in some later construction. It took two hours to translate. It read as follows:

"... the chamber of the Lord also made to remain in the place ...
"... but the sky made to open up to the evil fire and made to burn ...
... but because of the blind prophets and the friend of the enemy ...
... rise up to close the aperture in the sky to heal the nation ..."

The text was familiar. Not only did this stone remind me of the other stone, also displayed upside down in a Sana'a museum, but the translation suggested that it was part of the same prophecy.

The other stone also mentioned the "burning sky" and suggested that this would happen to destroy the enemies of the nation (Yemen) before the "Lord's chamber" would be moved or opened. This was relevant because of the possibility that the Ark was buried in Mareb, and was on the verge of being found. But it also echoed the script I had translated in Colorado and the phrase used by the Inuit woman in Alaska.

The coincidence was now becoming more apparent. There was a common thread in this string of events. But what did it mean?

[Harconen]

Just after the evening call to prayer, Ahmed returned with Sky. They both appeared to be in a good mood. Ahmed had taken Sky to visit something called the NGO (Non-Government Organization) that was a charity established to help widows and problem girls with finances and emotional support. It was a warm environment and Sky made many friends there. I noticed that she had her hands painted in henna by one of the women and the design was truly beautiful.

Dinner was ready in the dining room of the hotel and Sky left to change her clothes while I gave the translated text I had worked on to Ahmed. He left immediately and thanked me.

The food at our hotel was delicious. We enjoyed the variety of different courses that would be served up as they were prepared and cooked to order. The usual mean started with some chicken broth and was quickly followed by a huge piece of round, flat bread, which served as the plate for a variety of smaller bowls containing meat and rice, and sometimes even banana.

I asked Sky about the translations and specifically how she had understood them so accurately. To be honest, I don't think she understood the process, or how difficult it was for me, even with the laptop. "It just makes sense to me somehow," was her comment. I was particularly impressed with her ability to make the words sound smooth instead of the awkward phrases that I often translated. Her reply was nothing short of genius, "It's all about sentiment - not sentence."

She was absolutely correct. The old writing was full of emotion. I remembered the wall at the Sheba site where the sadness of Menelik's plight was worded as "the happiness of the Son was poisoned..." Sky was somehow in harmony with this style of expression and many of the translations would have hopelessly failed in conveying their meaning without her.

I wanted to ask her about the lights. It was such an emotionally charged topic that I was afraid to mention them. I sat an watched her eat. No one had ever entered my world like her and shared my odd attraction for the strange things of life. Most people even avoided discussing such matters with me. But Sky not only sampled my world, she excelled in it. If I was on some kind of quest then she was also.

For a moment I felt good about this. I thought it would guarantee a bond that would draw us close as friends and co-actors in this drama. But then I remembered the journal.

Sky was still looking thin but I was happy to see that her appetite was healthy. At the end of the meal I had some jelly that came in plastic container with an attractive label, written in Arabic.

"Can I have your jelly label for my journal?"

The time was not right to say it, but I did anyway. I told her that I had looked in her journal and had read about the "monster." I told her I was hurt and puzzled by the words and I asked her to explain why she had written this. That was a big mistake.

Instead of discussing the contents of her journal, the issue was clearly and rightly focused on my violation of her privacy. It was an argument I was meant to lose. Her anger erupted and spewed molten hostility all over me. I had no defense for what I did and the private comments that she had written now seemed so trivial compared to my betrayal of trust and respect.

All my life I have believed that intent was more important than action. Sometimes fate has a way of changing the outcome of our best plans. A plan to guarantee peace can accidentally make the consequences of war much worse. A drug designed to alleviate symptoms can accidentally kill a patient. An attempt to get close to someone can push them away. I was clear that I had become the monster in Sky's journal.

We went to other cities and other archaeological sites in Yemen. Every evening Sky would find a rooftop or secluded place and wait for the lights to appear. Even on cloudy nights when the stars were hidden, the main light she called "Ellie" would appear and dance for her. If there was any magical communication between the light and Sky, it was buried in her journal and barred from my view.

Slowly, we managed to become friends again. But she had, by then, constructed a wall around herself that guaranteed her secrecy and preserved her magic. It seemed fitting to me that she understood Queen Sheba's words so well. The Queen had built a wall to hide her secret for three thousand years. Her writing was just now being understood. But it would likely take a miracle for me to understand Sky.

Our trip to Yemen ended in Sana'a. I had one final visit with the Minister and was reminded again that my translations could be dangerous in the current political climate. We had a farewell dinner with our guides and departed for the Australian outback.

Before we left, Sky stayed up to engage the lights from the roof of the hotel. I asked if she thought they would be in Australia when we got there. "Of course they will."

And she was correct.

[Harconen]

In the Land of Oz

We arrived in Sydney in bad shape. Our internal clocks were still on Yemen time and, just to confuse things more, it was the winter in the Southern hemisphere.

Australia is a strange and mystical place. It is one of the oldest continents and has been relatively unaffected by plate tectonics. Its mountains have long been eroded away and so most of it is as flat as a table. The original inhabitants, the Aboriginal people, are one of the oldest living races on planet Earth. They have a consciousness that is so different from any other people that it almost defies description by anyone but an Aboriginal.

The continent is about as large as the forty-eight states but the entire population equals that of New York City. Needless to say, there's a lot of room. Most of the population clings to the outer edge, leaving the interior wild and unpopulated.

Our destination was one of the few areas of Australia that had mountains - the Flinders Range in South Australia. This was the location of the other geographic point on Hurtak's map, the vortex, and the spot where there was more writing in the ancient language.

It took almost three days for the next scheduled train to depart Sydney for the long journey West. We spent the time sleeping in the day and then becoming wide awake at midnight. I knew a cure for our problem but I was unfamiliar with the local customs.

Sky and I wet to a local pub and drank some beer while we watched a Scottish band play tunes from the homeland. We stayed in the back with the serious drinkers and spotted a young man with long hair. We sensed he was a smoker and he sensed we were yanks. Eventually we bought him a beer and purchased a small bag of marijuana to smoke in the room. It helped.

The train ride lasted 36 hours. We would be in Australia for a few weeks. I hoped that this would be enough time to forget any problems that happened in Yemen and to heal our friendship. Again, my intentions were good, but perhaps over ambitious.

John McGovern met us at a scheduled stop and took us to his farm, on the fringe of the outback. John had a likable face that matched his voice. Just hearing him talk reminded me that I had a friend.

John's home was just what I needed. It was a typical Aussie farmhouse. The front and back door were on opposite ends of a long corridor that ran through the middle of the house. The outside was surrounded on all sides by a large covered porch. John also had two gentle women living with him, Mira and Moira, a collection of lap friendly cats and two roosters that constantly fought, yet were inseparable.

We were well rested when we arrived and I told John about our adventures, minus the encounters with the lights. I thought I would leave that to Sky, if she wanted, so that in the telling of the story to John, I might hear what really happened.

John was a brilliant man. He was a retired fisherman who was self-taught. He used his small i-Mac computer to research just about everything. He was a well-surfed expert on Australian culture and was thoroughly familiar with Hurtak's work.

One of the first evenings we were there, huddled together in front of his fireplace, Sky told about the lights we had seen. I watched the faces as she told about their movement and her communication with them. John and the women anxiously looked at each other with raised eyebrows. But it was not a look of sympathy or ridicule. On the contrary, John and the two women both accepted the facts and congratulated Sky for being so fortunate.

John even had an explanation for them, although we were not ready to hear it yet. He suggested that El Shaddai was the messenger of Yah, the means through which Moses had spoken to the Lord. He also claimed that the same phenomenon was active in the vortex, the zone on Hurtak's map where such other worldly contact was propitious.

Sky was pleased with their reaction and she seemed at ease with the women. I hoped this would be the start of a healing process for her - and for me. I listened to the conversation with skepticism. Sure, there was something unusual going on, but I was hesitant to believe in the words of a man I had met, who wore a black beret and who loved chocolate as much as I did.

John sensed the skepticism from my silence. "You just wait, mate. You wait 'til you see your petroglyphs in the outback. Just relax, mate. Let it happen."

I did relax. I felt at home with John. I was among friends and near the vortex.

[Harconen]

The Lights Are Here Too

In the evenings we sat on the porch waiting for some clear sky. It was cold and windy most of the time. But one evening it cleared and was warm enough to stay outside with just a sweater.

John, Mira and Moira were asleep. I was in the guest room but awake and Sky had been checking her e-mail on John's computer near the warm fireplace. She often went outside to smoke a cigarette and I could hear the door leading to the porch open and close.

"Hey Dan! Dan. Come see them." Sky was at my door insisting that I get dressed and come outside.

I told her to keep her voice down since our hosts were asleep. I hardly expected to see anything. The sky had been like thick soup since our arrival.

"So where are they?" I was looking up into the space over the house. The clouds were still there, but they opened periodically and revealed a rich view of the Milky Way. I didn't see any of the familiar lights though.

"See?" She seemed confident. "No. Look. Over there!"

Sky pointed to a large field in front of the farmhouse. In Australia, a large field is really large. This one was about a mile square and had been planted with feed grass that was just beginning to sprout through the soil. At first I didn't see anything, but I kept looking. Then I saw them.

Instead of points of light, the objects were much closer now and appeared egg shaped, about the size of a truck, and they had a faint glow. The luminescence was very weak at first. That is why I had not noticed them. But as my eyes adjusted I saw three of them at a distance of about a half mile from the porch.

"Is that a cloud or what..." I was the skeptic again.

"f**k your clouds! That's no cloud, Dan." She was right. The objects pulsed and changed their brightness and hue. It wasn't a mechanical or abrupt change either. The hue changed from blue to red to white, but it did so in a gradual and erratic way that made me consider that it - whatever we were seeing - was alive.

For a moment I was paralyzed with fear. My hair stood on end and a tension started in my groin and electrified my spine. I couldn't have run for my life at that moment. The objects appeared just bright enough to be distinguished from the shadows and they were elevated from the ground by several feet.

I looked at Sky. She was sitting on the ground facing them and appeared to be in a trance, with a fixed stare. I could hear her saying something in a low voice but the wind blew through the field and muted the sound. I wanted to sit down also but I sensed we were being watched and that any movement might frighten them away, as if they were wild animals or something.

The lights then began to change color, from red to blue, in a patchy configuration. A change of color would erupt on the surface and spread out and eventually the objects would be a solid color, only to have to next color erupt somewhere else and spread. While this was happening the luminosity decreased until the light was gone.

With no light it was solid black in the field. It would have been futile to hike to the spot where they were seen since there were several fences and obstacles in the way.

We weren't sure what we had seen. We agreed that they were more or less egg shaped, smooth or round in construction, and about the size of a truck. Their ability to change colors seemed to explain how we had observed the blue and red objects. But the biggest surprise, for me, was that these things seemed not be machines or vehicles, but living things.

I was freezing by the time we had given up seeing them again. I went back and warmed up in front of the fireplace. Sky had a smoke on the porch and paced. Later, I went to bed and I assumed Sky wrote about the event in her journal.

That night I had another dream. It was similar to my previous nightmares. But this time the old woman was alone. I was still trying to flea from danger and, like the other times, the woman represented the way out. I saw her going around the corner of the mesa again. She was almost out of sight. But I grabbed a hold of her arm and she turned to look at me - and it was my mother's face. I was shocked and let go. Then, as in my other dream, the entire mesa shattered like a piece of glass and crumbled to dust.

I was beginning to think I had mental problems. But if I did, then Sky most certainly did also. And if we both were ill, then John and Mira, Moira, Ahmed, Abdul and Dr. Hurtak were all just as insane.

The following day was a Saturday and we all slept late into the afternoon. It was my least favorite season and the days were short. I faded in and out of sleep. The darkness and silence of the outback were disorienting, like Nicki's windowless apartment in Fairbanks.

Nicki. I wished I could hear some Greg Allman music...

[Harconen]

Trip to Table Rock

John listened to our accounts of the lights with enthusiasm. He was not shocked by our revelation but suggested this might be a good time to visit an old Aboriginal site where there were some interesting petroglyphs. These wouldn't be the same style as the old writing, but he seemed confident we would find them interesting.

In almost every way, Australia is years ahead of the rest of the world. John's car, for example, was able to run on either gasoline, ethanol or propane - depending on which one was currently least expensive. Switching from one fuel to another was as easy as pressing a button. Most filling stations had a variety of fuels.

You could also leave your doors unlocked without fear of being killed or robbed. People were friendly and civil despite the fact that there were few police to enforce the laws.

We drove to a small town just outside Adelaide. John stopped to speak with an old woman who gave us permission to access her land and we hiked a short distance to a large flat rock that resembled the slab foundation of a large building. It was a natural formation made of hard, dark brown stone. There were petroglyphs covering the entire surface.

The images, mostly circular shapes, had been pecked into the flat stone eons ago. There was thick dark varnish covering the petroglyphs and they were well worn by the wind and rain. It was almost impossible to see them until we climbed an elevated rock that looked down on the slab. Then the images began to make sense.

"It's like a movie." Sky had climbed to a high rock and was taking photographs of us as we walked on the slab and inspected the images.

Viewed up close, each circle seemed meaningless. But when the entire rock was viewed as a completed work it told a story. Each collection of circles was like a frame in an animation. The circles moved from side to side and danced around a stationary point. Some of the circles had radiating lines surrounding them.

John said the site was very old. Very old in Australia can be, well, very old. Time seems to have slowed for many millennia on the continent until the arrival of the colonists. The Aboriginal people lived without the need for technology or change - what we have come to call progress - for longer than we can imagine. It was not uncommon for some Aboriginal people to have traditions dating back to the last ice age.

The Aboriginal mind is specialized for Australia. John did his best to explain how these petroglyphs were likely part of the "dreamtime," or collective memory. Just as spiders know how to build their web, birds of a particular species can build a uniquely shaped nest or return to the same migration sites as their ancestors, the Aboriginal people have incorporated certain memories in their genes. These memories are not "learned," in our way of understanding the word. They are triggered by certain rituals or images and then become part of their consciousness, just as if they were learned through direct experience.

These circles were likely part of this phenomenon.

I couldn't help but think of the lights and their observed movement when I inspected the site. It seemed to be a plausible explanation. But could these lights be that old? Had they always been here?

In the last "frame" of this slab there was a curious image that caught my eye. One of the circular shapes repeated as the image was read from right to left. Each time the round shape became more distorted until the final shape resembled a crude figure with a head, two arms and two legs. It was as if the circle had morphed and become like a human.

As we left the slab, John showed me a place where the earth was bright red. He explained that the area was rich in ochre, a substance that was often used to paint the body in ancient rituals and which has been found in ancient graves all over the globe. Ochre is not only a colorful substance but it is made from tiny crystals and has some unusual electrical properties. I scooped some for a souvenir.

It was getting dark again as we drove back to the farm. John promised to explain the vortex to me. But that would wait for some "tucker," a strange word for food, and the comfort of a warm fire.

John and I sat in the front of his car and talked. Sky, Mira and Moira spoke and laughed in the back. Life seemed good. I was in the vortex and among friends.

[Harconen]

John was such an intelligent speaker. The topic he was trying to discuss with us was complex. But it also required an investment of faith to fully appreciate. New ideas are like that. Unless they have some prior experience to grab on to, they are usually short term residents in our consciousness. Well, unless you are Aboriginal.

I understood that there was something special about a vortex. If the same petroglyphs were found in these specific locations then they must have had something in common besides the language. But what?

The map I had been sent showed a dozen vortex points around the globe. One of the locations coincided with the Temple Mound in Jerusalem. That made sense. But the others were in remote places like the Ural Mountains, somewhere in Afghanistan, and off the Southern coast of Japan. Why such remote places?

John explained that the Earth had some type of energy field that surrounded it, more complex than the simple magnetic field with North and South poles. This field had twelve poles which coincided with certain fixed geographic points on the Earth. It was here that contact with "the management" was possible.

We joked about his choice of words. "The management" was actually better than trying to deal with over-used terms like, "aliens," "angels," or "Gods." He described a kind of corporate organization where sentient beings were functioning as students, interns, guides and go-betweens. So when "management" needed to call us to the home office, so to speak, they used the vortex.

These portals had been in operation for a very long time. The petroglyphs were presumably left by people who had witnessed this contact or had come specifically to engage the management. But he suggested another important possible role of the vortex that peaked my interest.

The Earth has suffered, and will again, significant radiation from a variety of celestial events, from super-novas to the mega-flares of our own Sun. These blasts are capable of destroying all life and we are only partially protected by our thin atmosphere and magnetic field. The energies are usually absorbed by the planet through little understood meridians that cover the surface of Earth. These facts were well known to me from an article I wrote a year before.

John proposed that a vortex was a "safe" zone, where survival was most propitious. He suggested that perhaps the management intervened during cataclysmic events and used these portals as an oasis of sorts.

I was not ready to believe this yet. I remembered the texts in Colorado which spoke of the "burning sky" and the need to hide from the Sun. The location of a safe zone would certainly be a plausible explanation for this text. I had my doubts though.

Sky listened to John attentively for a while, but she soon became agitated. She remarked that the whole discussion sounded too much like a religion and declared that she did not believe in a God. This wasn't the first time I had heard her say that, but I was surprised that she could still be so confident after all that we had seen.

John had used the term "management" to avoid any concepts of deity. He knew that our words were inadequate. But Sky even rejected this term and quoted a passage from Alister Crowley, "Do what thou will is the whole of the law."

This marked a significant impasse for Sky. She left the room and again busied herself with her journal. She made fewer trips outside at night and began to lose weight again. I could tell she was homesick and we were as far from home as you could be.

It was difficult to watch her withdrawing into her own world. I loved Sky. I wanted us to be friends. I knew that she didn't understand my affection for her. I was older, another generation, but she was like a sister to me. Perhaps Sky knew only one type of love and my affection was misunderstood.

We made plans to visit the Flinders Range and to see the petroglyphs. This would be a long trip so John packed a tent and we bought provisions. I was anxious to be distracted from Sky's pain and John promised that the site would help me to understand more about the management and the big picture.

[Harconen]

The Flinders Range

Australia is pretty flat, but just North of Adelaide in the state of South Australia there is a spectacular series of mountains called the Flinders Range. The mountains are not huge and not tall enough to have snow, but they are often rugged and lack vegetation.

The drive would take a whole day in the car but the road heading North was surprisingly new and better than many highway systems in the States.

John and I traveled alone, leaving Sky, Mira and Moira back at the farmhouse. I had hopes that this would allow some bonding to take place and that Sky would unwind.

We made a brief stop in Adelaide to visit some of John's friends. He had business in the city and his friends drove me to a small town called Highgate to speak with an elderly gentleman named Colin Norris. Norris was a retired engineer and lived alone in a small flat, surrounded by many books and file cabinets. Colin was familiar with the area we were about to visit in the Flinders Range, but for a different reason.

Colin had been collecting reports from people who had seen unusual lights and floating objects in the region for the past two decades. He was the director of The Australian International UFO Research, Inc. He made some instant coffee for me and then proceeded to tell me about his work.

Colin had a good relationship with all of the local police in South Australia. He was often used as a contact when they received reports of strange lights or unexplained phenomenon. He carefully followed up every report with a telephone interview and recorded all of the calls on reel-to-reel magnetic tape that he later transcribed and filed. His collection contained literally thousands of detailed reports and statistics.

Colin had noticed the cluster of reported lights in the area of our vortex, although he did not call it that. He played some of the recorded interviews for us. They were made by honest people, many frightened by what they had seen, and with nothing to gain from their reported sightings. Often the same sighting would be described by many different people and the similarities of their observations was compelling.

While the most interesting ones described metallic objects, hovering over farmland, most were of objects that had the same strange luminescence as we had observed that night on the farm.

Colin made it clear that he was not coming to any conclusion with regards to the origin of these objects. He was merely gathering the data in the hopes that someone would want to study it. He alluded to an illness and said that his time was short. He just wanted someone to appreciate his effort.

Oddly, no one seemed interested. He had approached representatives in the government, military and defense department but they all summarily refused to even look at his data. I could tell that he was frustrated and even resigned to defeat. His tapes and files were covered with dust and served as a reminder of the huge chunk of his life that was now about to be forgotten.

I told him that I was going to be visiting the Flinders Range. He found a large map of the region and spread it on his dining room table. We found his town on the map and he followed the road with his finger, North to Augusta, where the road forked. To the right the highway led to the Flinders Range National Park, a green color on his map. I had heard the area was lush with vegetation and that it was full of kangaroo and emus. North of the Flinders the terrain was orange, the color of desert sand and sun of the outback.

To the left of Augusta, the road went North to Woomera. Here the map had an interesting area colored red and marked "Restricted Area." I asked him what was there. Colin smiled, took a deep breath, and asked me to sit down.

Woomera was a strange place. Colin told me that it was the home of an American military installation for the Air Force Space Command and an important testing range for the Australian Defense Science and Technology Organization, a group of defense contractors based in Adelaide whose chief member was Raytheon. It was also an area with phased arrays, an antenna farm like Poker Flats in Alaska. Like Poker Flats, it also contained a missile testing range with silos and launch pads.

"Stay away from there," he warned.

I sensed that Colin could have told me much more. Our brief conversation had made him tired and it was soon time for me to go. As I shook his hand I felt his weakness. But he kept hold of my hand for an extra few seconds and placed his other hand on my shoulder. "Good luck, Dan. Keep your eyes open."

The last thing I would have expected in the remote outback was a military installation. Even more strange was the fact that it was manned by the American Air force. What were they doing here in Australia? And why were they in this remote location? And why did this coincide with the vortex?

[Harconen]

John finished his business and we were soon in his car and speeding North. The road was fairly straight and wide and there were few cars in either direction. "Most Australians never even come this far into the outback."

The time alone with John was a good opportunity to talk and listen. I learned that my old ideas about God, the bearded old man on a throne, were about as foolish as believing all matter was made from "stuff." The universe is complex. Just as that "stuff" can be broken down into molecules, atoms, particles and quarks, deity is also diverse. The "management" that John described was a complex hierarchy of beings that watched human development and provided periodic adjustments.

"So there are no little green men in spaceships then?" I was being sarcastic, but also a little disappointed.

"Well, I didn't say that exactly, mate."

Soon we were at the junction in Augusta. Ahead of us were the Flinders Mountains, a spectacular sight and a welcome change from the flat terrain. We took a right and within two hours we were parked on a dusty road and set up our campsite. It was dark and we quickly got some sleep for the long hike in the morning.

That night I had the dream again. There was the overwhelming feeling that I was in danger. I was back in Monument Valley. I was alone this time and the old woman was in the distance, with her back facing me. I ran towards her as she rounded the corner of that huge stone mesa. She stopped to let me catch up to her and, as soon as I touched her, the mesa crumbled.

Frankly, the stupid dream was getting me annoyed. It always woke me up and gave me an odd feeling that was hard to shake. I didn't appreciate that out here in the outback since there was no coffee and I already had a slight headache.

The petroglyphs were a few miles from the car and were located on the face of a brown stone wall that formed a canyon with a river. It was similar to what I had experienced in Colorado, although the Pergatoire River was much wider. This river was easy to cross on foot and the petroglyphs were immediately visible.

The entire collection of carvings were spread over 100 feet and were all covered with a thick layer of dark varnish. The age of these petroglyphs was hard to estimate but they were in the same style as the ones in Colorado and used the same symbols. I photographed as much as I could and copied some inscriptions to a notebook.

As I moved from panel to panel, I noticed a recurring symbol that repeated on the stone wall. A pair of concentric circles was depicted, often with radiating lines surrounding the outer circle. I had seen this in Colorado also, but the significance was unclear.

The terrain in front of the wall was flat and sandy. It would have made a great place for a concert. Indeed, the wall itself had a kind of step that formed a flat, elevated stage, with the petroglyphs serving as an artistic backdrop. I could easily imagine a gathering of Aboriginal people using this site for some similar event.

When we returned to the campsite I was able to use the last few minutes of battery power on my laptop to translate a string of symbols I had copied in my notebook. It read,

"... In this place you will receive protection and power ..."
The trip back provided me time to think. I was convinced that the writing was similar to that in Colorado. But it was also the same alphabet that was used in Yemen to describe the story of Queen Sheba and the Ark. Could I assume that the same writing would be found in the other vortex points around the world?

As we passed through Augusta I remembered the military installations that was adjacent to the Colorado vortex. Was this just a coincidence or would there be similar installations near the other points of contact with the "management?"

Then I remembered my life back in America. It seemed so distant and strange. What was I doing here? Was I losing my mind? Was any of this really happening?

[Harconen]

Another Sad Casualty

As we drove nearer to the farmhouse, I began to get a bad feeling. We had been gone for almost four days. I had left Sky with Mira and Moira with the hope that she would unwind and return to normal.

At first it seemed good. We were greeted and sat together to eat dinner, or "tea" as it is called. Sky was quiet but she seemed relaxed and had a good appetite. John discussed our trip and told about my translations and then I told about my interesting experience with Colin Norris and the amazing audio tapes he had shared with me.

One of the women produced a small tin with some smoke and we gathered around the fireplace with coffee while the BBC News was on the telly.

John had lots of friendly cats that enjoyed the warmth of the fire. A few even liked to share the couch or a lap if you let them. My favorite cat was a black and white longhair named "Smudge." She was missing from the group so I went out on the porch to call for her. After a few minutes, Sky came out to smoke a cigarette. It was the first time we had spoken for many days, and the first chance I had to ask her how she felt.

Sky felt depressed and angry. The lights had stopped appearing for her while I was gone and the magic of Yemen had worn off. Since she was not interested in John's interpretation of the "management," the discussions we had about the vortex and the petroglyphs had little relevance to her. She was no longer the focus of attention - the suspected "jinn." She simply wanted to leave. The more I tried to reason with her the more she directed her hostilities towards me.

Sky felt betrayed by the lights. She blamed me for taking her on the trip and claimed I was an evil monster. Her paranoia extended to John, Mira and Moira, Hurtak and she suspected the whole trip was somehow planned to victimize her. Emotions that were pent up inside of her from the experiences in Yemen flooded out in fits of shouting and hysteria.

The next few days we all tried to calm Sky and avoid a confrontation. Something inside of her had snapped and our goal was to get her home to America where her friends and family could remind her that she was still the caring, sane person that had left there, weeks earlier.

A few times, with the best of intentions, I tried to speak with her. I wanted her to know that she was among friends. I wanted her to understand that I cared for her. But each time the result was the same and she would raise her voice and curse me.

We arranged for her flight. John and the women took her to the airport. Things were still much too tense for me to ride with them in the car, so I stayed home alone and clouded my sadness with some smoke.

It was almost time for me to go home too. I had been in Australia for so many weeks that I had lost track of time. The field where we had seen the colored lights was now knee high with grass and the season was turning warmer. I didn't know what I would be returning to or what I had accomplished on this trip. I was suddenly feeling very old and alone.

I smoked my pipe and walked in the fields. I missed Sky already but I knew she had to go. Everything in this life seems so temporary. In my mind I heard a tune that played spontaneously and it made me smile. It was Greg Allman's "Tied to The Whipping Post."

As I walked back to the farmhouse I noticed a small car driving up the driveway. It was not a car I recognized. As I approached I watched a tall woman with dark hair enter the farmhouse and I rushed to see who this could be.

[Harconen]

The Healer

"So here you are!" I was greeted by Sharon, a tall, slim woman with very long and thick black hair. "I kept asking where you were then and I was looking all over the house. I wanted to meet this bloke who had not one - but two - of 'em come to introduce you!"

I had heard a little about Sharon. She was a Maiori woman from New Zealand. John had mentioned that we should meet but he had been unable to contact her since I arrived.

"Tell me. Is the older woman your Mum?" I had no idea what she meant by this and I looked at her with a blank stare. "There's an older woman and I am pretty sure she's your Mum, and then a little fella with her."

Now I was remembering more of what John had told me about Sharon. She was a shaman. She saw the spirit world and often had trouble distinguishing between her acute perceptions and the mundane world. We sat in the living room and I made a fire. Sharon had a pouch with her and rolled some smoke that was the size of a cigar and were soon smoking up the room.

Sharon was pretty and feminine, but when she laughed her face was so expressive that it shocked me. Her mouth appeared unusually large for her face but her smile was genuine and all the more effective. I felt totally comfortable with her. She immediately sensed that I was sad and began to tell me a collection of jokes and stories to raise my spirits.

Eventually she asked me why I seemed so empty. It was an interesting choice of words. Before she arrived I had been feeling lonely and old. These were feelings, but emptiness was a condition, the underlying problem.

"I know what you need. You have lost your path, Dan. You stopped to enjoy the view and forgot that you are on a journey. You need to be reminded. That's what you Mum meant." Sharon fumbled in her bag for a ceramic bottle.

"Dan. Hold out your hand with your palm up." She took hold of my hand and tapped the ceramic bottle lightly with her other hand. Some brown powder made a small pea size pile in the center of my palm. "Now lick it. Go ahead. It's cool."

I trusted Sharon enough to obey her. The powder has no taste and there was no immediate effect. Before she put the bottle away she poured a larger pile in her own hand and licked it, washing it down with some coffee. We continued to talk and joke. I thought perhaps she had given me some magical potion which would have no effect on me. Like Sky, I didn't really believe in magic.

The cigar she had rolled was only half smoked when the fire started to dwindle. I used the last few logs to rekindle the flame and left to fetch more wood from the pile on the porch. It was dark outside but the air was warm. The sky was unusually clear and the Milky Way was shining like a bright long cloud. I thought I felt something different in my head but I couldn't be sure.

Instead of getting the logs I decided to lay on the grass, some distance from the farmhouse and the lights, and to enjoy the celestial view. As soon as I was lying down I felt a rush of warmth in my head and I was unable to move. The stars above me seemed to be moving and I was getting dizzy. In the center of the twirling lights there was a stationary star and I focused on this to stop my vertigo.

As I stared at this point of light the rest of my vision began to be filled with black. It started at the periphery and moved inward, until that one point of light was all that I could see. As I did this, the light of that star got brighter and seemed to come nearer. I could close my eyes but it made no difference, the point of light was still there. I felt my body becoming numb and I sensed that I was not alone.

A flood of ideas entered my mind. I felt like I was familiar with that star in my eyes, like it was an old friend. I knew that I was more than this Dan Eden, lying in the grass, and that I had been other people in other lives. I knew that my current life was just a chapter in a long career that involved many adventures. I knew that my sadness was just temporary and I felt invigorated by a sense of duty. I was euphoric with this new perspective. But there was more.

I suddenly remembered Sharon, back in the farmhouse. I remembered the firewood and I tried to get up. It was impossible. I could see my arms pressing the grass but I couldn't feel them. I was numb. I slipped in and out of dreams, many too bizarre to recall. All the time I had the feeling that I was not alone and I felt safe and protected. The universe was my home.

In the morning I awoke on the grass. The sun was just showing over the horizon and I was very warm. I tried to move my arms but they were covered by a quilt that had been placed on my body. A pillow was under my head. I carried the bedding to the house and, as I did, I noticed I felt different. I felt good. I felt whole.

I looked for Sharon but she was gone. Her car was gone too. The only reminder of her visit was the half smoked cigar of weed in the ashtray. I thought of smoking but somehow it wasn't necessary.

I was anxious to see John. I knew he would be home by the afternoon. I needed to talk to him. I felt a new energy. I felt we were on the verge of discovering what was going on. I suspected that we had most of the pieces to this puzzle. And I was right. We did.

[Harconen]

Connecting The Dots

John arrived home in the late afternoon. By all estimates, Sky was back in America. We all felt sad that she was gone but the mood around the farmhouse was more positive. Mira and Moira settled in to their daily routines while John and I began to talk seriously about everything.

We began to focus on some of the other areas around the world where there were alleged to be vortex points. The first one was in Brazil, just West of Sao Paulo. We used John's computer and spent hours exploring the internet for information.

Raytheon had a major presence in Brazil. Nicknamed "SIVAM," the System for Vigilance of the Amazon, Raytheon had placed a number of antenna farms and radar systems in the Amazon jungle. There was a special "off limits" zone just West of Sao Paulo. These arrays were linked to a central command post by satellite and were designed to detect any anomalous activity surrounding the vortex. Congressional records mentioned that a Brazilian atmospheric "heater" under U.S. control, similar to the one in Poker flats, was also located somewhere in the region.

Another point on the vortex map was Southern Peru. It didn't take long to learn that Raytheon was there also. Maps showed the familiar "off limits" zone and other records showed the installation of more antenna farms, satellite hookups and a U.S. military presence.

In Asia, the vortex fell on the area just North of the Afghanistan border, in the Southern Ural Mountains. I was already familiar with this location since I had written a piece about Yamantau. This super secret military installation had eaten up billions of dollars and a significant portion of Russia's impoverished economy. It was an underground facility with millions of square feet that had worried American congressmen.

Representative Roscoe Bartlett asked Congress to investigate the need for such a costly project and reminded other legislators that, "The only potential use for this site is post-nuclear war... " He suggested that, with the end to the Cold War, this made no sense, and suspected a more sinister agenda was behind the project.

The other Russian vortex in located near Kazakhstan and coincides with the secret zone around Svobodny.

It was no surprise to learn that Raytheon had a presence in these Russian sites. The same systems of arrays and satellite hookups were installed and each vortex point seemed to have an adjacent military zone that imposed a kind of "check-mate." In fact, Raytheon was at all of the vortex sites.

We seemed to have stumbled blindly on an important discovery that linked past and present, good and evil and bridged the mundane with the fantastic.

The vortex points were important enough to have been marked in antiquity. If they did represent some special geography where "contact" could be made then they deserved to be revered, much as the Temple Mound in Jerusalem is revered as the navel of the world.

Perhaps it was through these special portals that civilization has been guided and preserved through various cataclysms that have culled our population in the remote past. It seemed less of a fantasy now. I had seen the writing that described these areas as "safe zones" with my own eyes.

But the presence of military installations was puzzling. They seemed more to hinder access to these zones than to protect them. The terrible weapon that I had witnessed in Alaska was not beneficial to humanity. In fact, it was patently evil. Now there were many of them, either completed or under construction. Why?

If there was an organized deity, what John had called the "management," could there be an organized counterpart - an evil empire - organized on a global scale, poised to fight for control of each vortex?

If the phased array "death ray" were ever actually used in these locations the result might very well be perceived as the "burning sky." The damage to the ionosphere would allow radiation from space and our own Sun to burn our skin, cause mutations and kill the vegetation. This was a known effect. And yet the system was being positioned quietly, secretly, all over the planet.

John and I tried to understand this. We had many different theories and schemes to explain what we had learned. But in the end it was the simple explanation that seemed to make the most sense. There was evil in the world and we had accidentally seen part of their plan for controlling the globe. We didn't have a name for them, nor did we understand their motives or agenda. But they were as real as the "management."

We tried to enjoy my last few days in Australia. We took long walks in the fields and enjoyed some good smoke by the fire. The cats were a good distraction and Smudge, my favorite cat, was always eager to warm my lap.

I said farewell to John, Mira and Moira at the Adelaide airport. I had gathered a good story, I thought, but would anyone believe me? I could hardly believe it myself.

On the flight home I fell asleep and I had the dream again. This time there was no feeling of impending doom. The old lady waited patiently for me to catch up to her and we both stood facing the huge stone mesa as it crumbled to dust. I didn't see her face but I knew the old woman was my Mom.

The "Yank" accents reminded me that I was going home. The music selection on the plane included a classic rock selection and I was feeling pretty good.

It seemed a far reach from the present world to one where the "evil" forces could exert their dominance on the rest of the world. We were enjoying a refreshing era of peace and prosperity in America. The military budget had been reduced with the end of the Cold War and the nation's coffers had a huge surplus. There was little need for any New World Order.

I landed at Logan Airport in Boston on September 9th, 2001.

[Harconen]

Since the events of September 11, 2001, the world is a different place. The invisible evil that John and I detected has become a bit more conspicuous. The New World Order is no longer just a catchy phrase but an evolving reality.

Dr. Hurtak called me to arrange for another meeting, but I declined.

Sky returned to live a more mundane life in Northampton, Massachusetts. To this day she refuses to speak with me. Her bright moment was a flicker in time. She paid a high price for her adventure but, in the end, she was right about one thing. She was used. But we were all used. Sky paid with her sanity.

The buried chamber in Yemen was located by ground penetrating radar a few weeks after we left Mareb. But now the region is under military control because of alleged Al Qaeda activity. All archaeological work has been suspended. The prophecy said that the chamber would be opened when a "friendly" nation controlled the land... so that's a long way off in the future I guess.

I heard from Jonas, Dave and they are both alive and well. Nicki's body was reburied in her hometown and I visited her grave in the summer of 2002.

I tried calling Kathy again but the number was no longer valid. I guess the NSA has bigger things to worry about these days.

In the winter of 2002 I received several e-mails from my friend in Yemen, Khalid. He had been contacted by the Yemen Minister of Antiquities and asked to see if he could arrange my return to Yemen. Several new sections of the carved stoned had been uncovered and they were anxious to have me confirm their attempted translations.

A "job" was arranged for me at the Modern American Language Institute as their director. I would receive two thousand dollars a month and live in a protected apartment in old San'a. From there it would be a day's drive to Mareb where I would have access to the archaeological site of the Queen of Sheba. A visa was obtained and I was in the process of securing my airline tickets.

It was about this time that Bush was threatening to invade Iraq and the State Department was warning Americans to vacate the entire region, including Yemen. In fact, the airline had referred my information to Homeland Security and they called to ask about my travel plans and threatened to detain me at the airport if I attempted to leave.

I'm almost sure they knew nothing about my prior activities when they called, but my desire to move to Yemen was sure to flag my passport for review and I had no doubt that my activities in Yemen would be make me a "person of interest."

About the same time, an old friend named James sent me a letter from Vietnam, where he had gone to live with his Vietnamese bride. James was a free spirited man who had traveled extensively in the oil business. On one of his vacations he had met a Vietnamese woman, fallen in love and now had a baby with her. He decided to retire in Vietnam and was encouraging me to do the same.

Vietnam was one of the remaining communist republics and had a not-so-clear extradition treaty with the US. It would be one of a handful of countries where my "person of interest" status would exempt me from a paid vacation in Guantanamo. The fear level in America was high and I felt vulnerable. I wrote him and asked him to help me move there.

I arrived in Saigon in February of 2003. I had only twenty dollars in my pocket and didn't understand a word of the language. James picked me up at the airport and took me back to his small hotel where he and his wife had a penthouse "room" on the top floor. Ironically, the top floors in Vietnam are the least desirable and therefore the most inexpensive place to stay. I secured a room next to his for only four dollars a day.

James' wife had an attractive sister, Tam. Tam spoke a little English and so helped me adjust to this new environment. She was sweet and ten years younger than me. When I learned that she had no home and no money and had been sleeping on the ground with rats, I insisted that she join me in my room. Very quickly we fell in love and after four months we were married.

I found employment as an English teacher. I taught high school students and university students and earned anough money so that Tam and I eventually moved out of the hotel and got a two room apartment, again on the top floor, in Ho Chi Minh City. I kept a low profile and hardly ever thought about HAARP or the translation work I had done a couple of years before.

After I was here for about six months I was visited by two ex-patriots who were living in neighboring Thailand. They found me with very little trouble and shared their experiences as former engineers with one of Raytheon's subsidiaries. Both worked on the satellite linkage that connects the global grid of "heaters," but their understanding of the purpose of the installations was quite different from my sinister ideas.

Rather than an offensive weapon system, both were told that they had worked on a secret defensive system related to some near future solar event which would be aggravated by a depletion in the Earth's magnetic field, and hence the ionosphere. Both speculated that this event was only a "handful" of years away.

Despite the alleged innocense of the system, both men acknowledged the irresponsible tests that had resulted in death and environmental damage to Alaska and Siberia. They voiced concern that the people in charge of the program were military personnel -- not civilian scientists -- and that the program was being taken over by more sinister elements for offensive applications.

Could the possibility of a solar catastrophe be the missing piece of the puzzle? If such a catastrophic event were on the immediate horizon would this explain the construction of an "artificial" ionosphere, underground cities, the desperate battle of evil and good and the future plans for global dominance following an event of mass extinction? I have to admit, it does.

As I thought about this possibility my mind went back to the petroglyphs in Colorado. On one rock there was a description of the "arm of God" that would be removed from "over His people." The writing in Yemen also spoke about the "aperture in the sky" that would cause terrible burning of humanity. Will the next extinction be by fire?

We spent two evenings drinking Old Saigon Ale at the famous Saigon Cafe in District One. The men seemed sincere and went into details about the capabilities of the system. HAARP, it seems, can be deflected off the ionosphere and made to hit a precise location on the earth's surface. The signal can then be made to penetrate the surface and cause the mineral molecules to vibrate. At low power, these molecular vibrations can be detected from space satellites and used to reveal the presence of oil, various minerals and even underground facilities. At higher power these same molecular vibrations can cause sub-terranian tremors and even explosions.

One of the men even suggested that experimental use of this "tomographic" potential had resulted in earthquakes in Iran. Both seemed sad and even angry that the program was being used irresponsibly.

I assured the men that I didn't want to get involved in anything political. They understood. "We're just trading stories," was how they put it. We spoke about or new lives, our wives and made unspecified plans to meet again. The men lived on the coast of Thailand, a beautiful and friendly region with lots of foreign tourists, golden sandy beaches and ideal weather. I looked forward to visiting them in a few months.

The big holiday on Vietnam is Tet. I had been planning a trip to the Mekong, in the south of Vietnam, to visit my wife's family. Tet fell on the first couple of weeks in February and the weather would be cool without too much rain. My wife was excited about this trip too.

Around January I got an e-mail from a man who called himself Jeff. Jeff said he was an Australian and had some important information to talk to me about the HAARP project. I wrote back and told him I wasn't very interested in that anymore but he said he had been given my name and e-mail address by one of the two Americans that had visited me in Saigon earlier. He suggested that I should come to Cambodia and that he would put me up in a good hotel and pay my expenses. Later, after I gave him my post address, he sent me reservations and directions to a hotel in Phnom Penh and included a new US one hundred dollar bill.

I told my wife I would go there for only one week and would return in ample time to visit her family. She was quite understanding and even helped me pack a small bag for the trip.

The bus ride was long and bumpy and included a ferry trip across a river. Phnom Penh was a bustling city full of Buddhist artifacts and temples. The people looked different from Vietnamese with darker skin and brighter, even vivid, clothing.

I took a taxi to the hotel and found that a room had been reserved for me on the fourth floor. Again, top floors are inexpensive but the room was comfortable and had a great view of the Mekong River -- yes, the same river I was to visit later in the month.

Jeff called for me just when it got dark. He knocked on my door and introduced himself. He was a tall man with short hair -- so short it made him seem bald. He looked to be about 40 and sported a loud colorful short sleeve shirt and jeans. I noticed he carried a duffel bag and he soon pulled out a six pack of beer and suggested that we have a few drinks before we went out to eat and talk about HAARP.

After the second or third bottle of beer I noticed that I felt very sleepy and that it was difficult to speak clearly. Jeff seemed amused by this and kept insisting that I "drink up." At some point I must have passed out.

"Gary! Gary!" (You must have figured out by now that Dan Eden is Gary Vey) A voice yelled at me. I opened my eyes and was looking up at a woman, dressed in white and holding defribulator paddles. A man's hand was slowly removing a large plastic tube from my throat and there was a loud high-pitched hiss that made it difficult to hear what they were saying.

I spent two days in the French Hospital in Phnom Penh. I had been discovered by the housekeeping staff at the hotel and they had rushed me to the hospital because they couldn't wake me up. At the hospital I had suffered from low blood pressure and eventually my heart had gone into some kind of arrhythmia and required electric shock to revive me. A later examination of my blood and stomach contents revealed a high dose of Klonapin.

When I got out I went to the US embassy in Phnom Penh and complained. They showed me some photographs of three men, one of whom was Jeff. After I identified him the embassy was reluctant to speak with me and only suggested that I return to Vietnam as soon as possible.

When I returned to my wife, she made me promise not to be involved in "politics" ever again. It was good advice and it seemed like something I ought to listen to. For the most part, I did as she requested.

Months later I got a phone call from one of the men in Thailand. I immediately told him that his "buddy" had poisoned me. To my surprise he denied any knowledge of the man who called himself "Jeff" but said that he had called to alert me that "They are going to use the HAARP again next week!" I told him I really wasn't interested but he insisted on telling me that friends in the "company" had passed this information to him. In the end, because I wanted to abide by my wife's suggestion, he just said, "Well, remember what I have just told you."

I didn't tell my wife about the phone call but one morning she seemed very excited and pulled me to the television. "Wow. Look. Big water!" The earthquake in Indonesia had caused a huge Tsunami that had killed thousands in Thailand and Sri Lanka. As I would later learn, my two friends living along the coast were among the victims.

"Well, remember what I have just told you."

We live in strange times. The Sun is erratic. We have witnessed 9-11, a senseless war and the puzzling re-election of its instigator by the masses, an ex-Nazi being elected as Pope and his very church withholding sacraments from members in a patently un-Christ-like act because they voiced dissent against its strict policies. Unemployment and poverty reign (as I well know) while oil companies list increased profits of as much as 500 percent. It's all surreal. Is it evil struggling to take control? Anything is possible.

In early 2007 the US Army announced that it was placing the petroglyphs in LaJunta, Colorado "off limits." (See National Geographic, May 2007) The cover story is that the troops need an area to train for a future war with China and the proposed war-game camp will be used with live amunition and munitions and subjected to real battle conditions. This will certainly and forever destroy the historic writing. I'm glad we photographed and video taped the area on our last expedition. But is there more to this story?

The translations of this unique area called it a "safe zone" where people would be able to find refuge from some future solar event. It's possible that the government has validated these ancient writings and realizes the value of this strategic location. It certainly is another example of the advances made by wat can only be described as "evil," the Sons of Darkness.

What can we do? You decide.

The rest of the story is up to you. Ask good questions and get some answers. But above all, be careful. In the words of Colin Norris, "Keep your eyes open."

[Harconen]

                                                           
                                                              Vortex Map

[Harconen]

                                                       
                                                         Example of Yemen Script

[Harconen]

                                                     
                                                                         Upside Down Stone in Yemen Museum

[Harconen]

The Colorado Petroglyphs Explained

                                                             http://www.viewzone.com/purg.html

[Harconen]

More Petroglyphs in the Colorado Vortex

                                                          http://www.viewzone.com/comanche.html

[Harconen]

The Temple of Sheba in Yemen

                                                   

[Harconen]

South Australia Map

                                     

[Harconen]

Australian Vortex Petroglyphs

                                                
                                               

[Harconen]

Woomera Array

                             

[Harconen]

Woomera Restricted Zone Map

                                                 

[Harconen]

Air Force Space Command Logo

                                                 

[Harconen]

Animation of weapon system

                                                http://www.viewzone.com/haarp.animation.html

[Harconen]

More information on weapon system

                                                         http://www.viewzone.com/haarp.extra.html

[Harconen]

The Rock

                      http://www.viewzone.com/expo2002.html

[Harconen]

Table Rock

                       http://www.viewzone.com/tablerock.html

[Harconen]

The HAARP

                       http://www.viewzone.com/haarp00.html

[Harconen]

A Translation Program

                                      http://www.viewzone.com/negev/z.html

[Harconen]

Some relevant translations from Yemen

                                                             http://www.viewzone.com/sheba.flipped.html

[Harconen]

Comments

                      http://www.viewzone.com/never.comments.html

[Harconen]

A true story.


In the early days of our magazine, I was asked to view a secret military installation just north of Fairbanks, Alaska. The site contained numerous antennae that were designed to focus billions of watts of radio energy on our Earth's ionosphere, heating it and causing it to expand. In the subsequent years I learned that there were about a dozen other similar installations under construction at strategic locations around the globe.

At first the significance of this global network was a mystery. The ionosphere is a layer of atmosphere about 60 miles above the surface of the planet. It is a highly charged layer that protects the planet from solar flares and radiation from space. Heating the ionosphere with radio waves is like pulling on an elastic chord or rubber band. The new weapon system is designed to do just that, and then to allow the accumulated energy to "snap" back at a precise location with more destructive power than any nuclear device.

The reality of this weapon system was voiced (alarming comments) by Secretary of Defense, William S. Cohen, under President Clinton. It's time we all knew about this.

Since re-locating to Asia, I have met other ex-patriots who worked for Raytheon on this project, including an engineer who helped develop the satellite system that will eventually link all of the weapons together, enabling control over the entire planet.

Coincident with this discovery, ViewZone was also investigating some ancient writing that had been seen on rocks in various locations around the world. Many of these archaeological sites were adjoining sites of the phased arrays. The translation of the very old writing was a major breakthrough, largely achieved by a professor from Brigham Young University, Dr. James Harris. The translations spoke of "the burning sky" and made prophecies about the destruction of life and of specific "safe zones".

UPDATE: Some kind people have offered financial support and want to know how they can donate funds to Gary Vey (aka Dan Eden). The financial information is provided here -- and this will help maintaining the web site. Again, thanks to everyone.

©2003 Viewzone.com (Gary Vey)

Please note that this work was first published by Dandelion Books (2003) ISBN 1-893302-41-5. The publisher was terminated because they refused to promote the book and did not pay royalties as contracted. Future authors would be wise to avoid doing business with this type of company. Meanwhile, the book is FREE on viewzone! Enjoy.


http://www.viewzone.com/evilfire.html

[John Gault]

Harconen, I am not an expert on HAARP by any stretch. So your story to me was enlightening and very informative. Keep up the great work.   

[Harconen]

Harconen, I am not an expert on HAARP by any stretch. So your story to me was enlightening and very informative. Keep up the great work.  

Thank you Xavier, for your support, I appreciate it. One hint for explore it. http://www.damanhur.org/ http://www.thetemples.org/en http://atlantisonline.smfforfree2.com/index.php/topic,2962.msg154202.html#msg154202

[ramallamamama]

I noticed on the map of vortex sites there's one out in the Northern Pacific Ocean. There's talk of laser beams and pulsating red orbs on the on the slopes of Haleakala on Maui in the wee hours of the morning. My video cam is charged and I await that call at 3:30AM...

Great story Harconen, thanks.

[Harconen]

I noticed on the map of vortex sites there's one out in the Northern Pacific Ocean. There's talk of laser beams and pulsating red orbs on the on the slopes of Haleakala on Maui in the wee hours of the morning. My video cam is charged and I await that call at 3:30AM...

Great story Harconen, thanks.

Thank you, also, you can go to links from my previous post for additional info about Damanhur Vortex.

[Sweetnhigh]

Thank-you for a most honest and enlightening recount - It has taken me to places vital to understanding and healing my innerself or psyche and beyond.
Again - I stayed up all night to read it - Thank-you

[Harconen]

Thank-you for a most honest and enlightening recount - It has taken me to places vital to understanding and healing my innerself or psyche and beyond.
Again - I stayed up all night to read it - Thank-you

Thank you. It is just a small part of big picture. This thing can be and is used in lots of different ways.

Sunyata. Find a book and you will be surprised where it will take you.

http://www.spiritual-technology.com/wp_spirit_eng/?p=250

[dlucas050]

You really should write for a living. I couldn't stop reading your story. It was wonderful. Thank you for sharing.