NIGHT FLIGHT plc
NIGHT FLIGHT plc
Being human is considered an insult by some people on this planet.
Human beings are full of processing incapacity, cannot multitask, cannot learn skills to any great degree, have no real capacity for genius or the creation of anything socially fine or valuable and it has been argued that there are just too many billions of them and that they are last years model and just have to go.
The big interstellar corporations that included the alien hybridisation programme that was breeding so-called 'starchildren' or 'indigos' had the intention to replace the human race with beings of far greater provenance and capacities.
As the cloning Vats of Huxleys 'Brave New World' rolled out the new alien master race, George Orwell's 'big brother' of 1984 was watching the death throes of humanity as it exited on a toxic cocktail of; food additives, sugars, alcohol, drugs and tobacco.
My Uncle and Sister lost to the demon drink, their internal organs and cardio-vascular systems beyond repair it was obvious to me that that was not a good way to go.
My Uncle had severe blood pressure problems, was constantly flushed and his face was covered in a network of blue-red veins a condition called rosacea which was symptomatic of the cardio-vascular condition and blood pressure problems that he was terminally experiencing.
It passed without notice at the time that the death of Professor John E Mack, Harvard University professor of Psychology, who had been responsible for exposing a very alien penetration of human society, had been perpetrated by some drunk in a car that had driven it up onto the pavement. Obviously this was someone acting under alien control that had suddenly departed from his usual routine of self-preservation.
Not long after my Uncle's death I had been walking in Edinburgh along George IV Bridge and had been verbally accosted from a doorway by a man lying flat out, his head propped up by an elbow.
He looked like a very unhealthy individual indeed, his complexion deep red and his face had the tell tale signs of advanced rosacea, with dark thread-like veins all over his face.
I apologised that I had no change and as I walked past, suddenly, very suddenly he was bolt upright and horizontal and right in my face. He never got to his feet via stages of push from the arms to kneeling then best foot forward and drag himself up, being careful not to disturb his malfunctioning heart and blood, being gentle and intoxicated and slow, so as not to pass out but absolute lightning bolt upright without even bending at the knees from horizontal to vertical.
That event was totally incredible to the world of human biology as far as I was concerned.
So I suddenly sympathised with professor John E Mack that the world of drunks just wasn't what it should be after all my Uncle was allegedly notorious for long haul drives on a gallon of alcohol, so its funny that a couple of pints should totally alter reality for a London driver to the total exclusion of the necessity for and recognition of a road.
Something had changed about humanity the streets were full of socially and economically inviable people, some of them imposters and the word on the internet was that we were all past our sell by date and the next generation of colonists were moving in. Cities underground were linked by networks of fast hitek monorails. There were space bases on an alien controlled moon and colonies on Mars and Europa, and alleged expeditions to places such as Serpo or Orion etc. These events transpired as elite beings of all persuasions got hold of their plastic cards and entered a world full of caverns full of Baked Beans, secret leisure facilities and bizarre little men in white coats. A world guarded by the best of the best; champion intellects, special people, wonderful geniuses, top rate this and la de da that swanning about in a delusional daze as the deserving few that really made it.
In the world above these strange underground toilets the collaborators that aided and abetted the cover up and exit of humanity maybe made their peace with God or continually subverted the emerging truths for the surety of a plastic card that allowed them first choice on what beans were left at Walmart if they could make it through the snow drifts or the tsunamis of the Earth changes.
With the expected Ice Age to come in the Northern hemisphere as the Atlantic conveyor belt slowed down preventing warm water from going not much further north than Spain, the UK was going to get frozen out of the warm water loop, Ice would form big time and supercharged winds would sweep us all away. They even made a film called 'The Day After Tomorrow' about the possibility of this idea. (Just as an icebreaker to get us in the party mood)
The other scenario is the 2012 Earth crustal displacement predicted by the Mayans and others that puts Everest on the seabed and the north pole at the equator. This would finally enable the children of Africa to meet Santa Claus.
With no truth about this kind of reality on the public agenda of the elite it is business as usual for the masses whilst the elite continue to make their plans for better days and people. The social infrastructure, then, becomes serviceable to the last moment without getting swept away by a tide of panic as every last drop of productivity is squeezed out of the work forces and factories. Well, that could be the plan.
Into this rather bleak picture, however, comes the hope of a massive extra terrestrial intervention from benevolent ET's.
One way or another it became prudent to see whether or not there was a ticket out.
Being somewhat of a contactee with scientific solutions to important human scientific paradoxes and author of a real version of a new theory of relativity - was not in fact any guarantee of that hoped for interstellar bus pass. The truth was that academic science as perpetrated for humanity was a redundant joke amongst interstellar beings who flew their ships on physics beyond the comprehension of Albert Einstein and 100 years of subsequent castles in the sand like quantum physics and superstrings.
The junk they give us that they call science is just to keep us buried up a cul de sac whilst they cull us without any sight of free energy and the resultant change in our lines of supply and resources that interplanetary travel could bring.
On real sciences, Earth and even three times its current surface population would be indefinitely sustainable.
They already had this stuff I had developed, and, the robotics stuff that I worked out. They already had the ideas for the starship engine, they had it all and they were; better, faster, more able, more skilled, could remember thousands of years of social and academic learning, could multitask, play Mozart whilst simultaneously snowboarding down mount Everest and could leap tall buildings and walk at 50 mph.
Into the public office where I worked one day walks Emma double barrelled name. Emma was interested in arts, was between training and new work and had an interest in my theatrical contacts as I had a database of people and projects and my own theatre company at the time.
Emma eventually returned having checked out a few of my leads and contacts and further asked my opinion on several related though slightly different matters to do with the subject matter of related projects.
It became clear that Emma seemed to possess some detailed knowledge of my own background and, rather fearful of the social conditions of one of my sisters at the time who was being bothered by an alleged employee of the then Military Commander for Scotland according to the policeman who checked his vehicle registration I decided to co-operate.
She was pleasant, educated and high class and appeared to be tuned into a world in another dimension, where in this alternate reality she was of an order of beings that had great powers.
What was more convincing was that her father appeared to be a very important person in Naval High Command and that she was attended to at the time by a guy from the elite organisation called MENSA for people of very high IQ.
As things developed she introduced me first to Captain Eric of the SAS .. really a first contact situation for myself and then to some successful guy called Jeremy who had a rich lifestyle and threw some good parties. Captain Eric attended those too.
So the picture started to evolve that there was an elite subculture of people with very special gifts nurtured by Governments and guarded by special forces and that they were preparing for some stuff that might yet happen.
Next up Jeremy tells me that his business organisation is very special and is called Nightflight and then he showed me his letterhead and logo which was of a small bright starship rising over the Earths horizon and heading off to a relatively close red spherical place that looked like Mars.
We seemed to be doing a re-run of that alleged hoax TV programme called Alternative 3 where elite people were designated to move from our dying planet as the third best hope of keeping our species going. They would have to build an elite colony on Mars and adapt people from earth to use as semi-robotic labour went that story.
The other two options were blow away all our greenhouse gasses with nukes or stay underground and fry.
If I could think of Alternative 4 at that time; which was to take the machinery that teleported the steel of the USS Eldridge in the Philadelphia Experiment of the 1940's 200 miles west, and retune this machinery to pick up the frequencies of carbon dioxide and point the process directly away from Earth's centre of gravity 200 miles straight up to act as a funnel into space then no doubt real geniuses already had half a dozen more Alternatives than just the three the programme had gone on about.
It was neither vital or necessary to do Alternative 3.
Besides everybody and their brother knows about the massive interstellar cities beneath Earth's surface that have been there for millennia throughout even the devastation and extinction of the dinosaurs on the planet's surface.
No doubt these galactic citizens could easily re-engineer the planet's atmosphere could our buddies in Agharti or Shamballah.
Things seemed to go downhill not long after that and the promised dinner party with the serving of 'Beef Wellington' never arrived in the manner that I expected. It did arrive though.
I was merely a monkey and relative retard etc. said a social scene comprised of people that alleged they worked for the security services. I played the Scottish fiddle so I was circulating amongst people who had a professional interest in the clandestine suppression of Scottish identity and the separatist and active nationalism that was so rife on the folk music scene. In those days there were anonymous phone calls and such things and people showing professional looking ID in public bars that declared that I wanted to be 'a Bonny Prince Charlie folk hero.' with my rabble rousing and vivacious violin style.
I was working for the UK civil service at the time, and one day one of my office colleagues collared me at the big filing system and said.
'There was a race of interstellar beings that worked with mankind during Egyptian times and they were very catlike in appearance. They had that same headshape as a cat and they could easily control humans.
Realising that the guy was an avid reader of scifi I put this remark down to one of the many magazines on mythology that he had no doubt been reading.
The next day however, a small young lady wearing silver clothing with a startlingly catlike looking head and jawline started working with us.
As things went I found myself sitting next to Miss C to help her adjust to my duties which were to do with employment records.
She didn't know me from Adam, yet held a piece of paper with the name of a public bar on it called 'the Fiddlers Arms' under the table where I could see it.
Well I was a fiddler, so was she suggesting that she wanted to be safe in my arms ?
Could this be love or what ?
Next up I'm on reception duties and Miss C is sitting to my left working on some filing and job records when suddenly my mind is swirling round and round and I'm standing alone with Miss C in a mindspace environment surrounded by a swirling helix of white light in a scene not dissimilar to the ending of the StarTrek 1 movie where the two lovers finally fuse their minds in some sort of Vulcan mind meld and their identities totally integrate.
Just as my poor dumb monkey brain was about to snap under the processing overload and overdriving of my sensitivities, into the office walks a seven and a half foot tall lady with long shoulder length red hair in her fifties a total stranger and member of the public who looks at us and says to Miss C .. 'Upstairs ..'
At that point Miss C's eyes fill with tears and she literally runs across the office and heads upstairs.
Shaken by my experience which later resonated for weeks after my mind had been blown down by some very real issues at that time beyond my comprehension.
Last I heard of Miss C and her other buddy was that they had headed for a flying Disco near the centre of the UFO hotspot in West Lothian. Not with any takeaway they had recently acquired though.
I saw Captain Eric in the public office once or twice after that and that I was told that he had rented a flat relatively close to my office.
Shortly after that I am told by telephone from another colleague in music that if I do not leave my ceilidh band project which was just getting commercial and viable that the friends that I played with would be harmed by heavies.
A few years after the ensuing collapse of that career I was on the internet and just really starting to take control of my own creative identity again. I had developed some interstellar themes and some ideas for interstellar society and infrastructure.
Into my life comes a lady from Europe who turns out to be English called Anna Summers. She contacted me allegedly because my ideas on extra terrestrials etc were interesting. This was at the time when easynet technical support, my internet provider complained that my net connection went through several strange servers in London, Cheltenham and various army sounding places in the UK before it ever found the internet out there somewhere.
Anna Summers was a facilitator of the new people that were emerging within human populations. The hybrids and starseeds could not use the drinks machine without her say so.
There was an expansive and wonderful social scene full of class and social wonder and merriment somewhere out there, but alas, it was not for me.
In her professional opinion she could find no special thing about my life that in any way qualified it to be extraordinary. Presumably this meant that I was not going to be allowed to die of shame in spiritual squalor in a glossy concrete bunker whilst millions of my brothers and sisters were extinguished by the convulsions of a recycling planet.
Although it is not good to feel excluded I was pleased that I had avoided the underland of ego and dead alien minds.
It soon became obvious to me that there were other possibilities for interstellar life above and beyond what the governments were doing with solar system colonists.
It was never entirely clear to me what merited any attention from that strange clandestine world until an older lady operative with a background in 'special operations' some of a surgical nature, suggested that it was time that I was reconstructed and be made to wear a pink dress and sit in the corner of presumably somewhere a bit reptilian and be humiliated.
Then the Black Budget Professor from the secret US mind control programme called MK Ultra turned up with credentials awarded from the usual; Institutes, underground bases, Texas Rangers, Remote Viewers, X files studies of war veterans who turned into gold light when hit by heavy machine gun fire, Seemingly they had got a glowing commendation from Uncle Sam, not to mention Top US Illuminati families (I didn't) etc etc
My discussion group at a local meeting place then took on new spice as an attractive young lady arrived and suggested that she wanted to be my handler, fit hair extensions on me and that we should turn up at special events wearing dresses.
We could both be a pair of slappers.
She had been educated in France, but it was definitely no go for her and her crew as I had been educated in Scotland.
This was the bottom line if you get the drift.
I was starting to get the feeling that my intellect was not appreciated.
It was true to say though that I had met people that were off the planet.
It was about then that my future interstellar family started coming forward to show me a better road. They demonstrated that my intellect is only part of what I am, that my humanity and inner child is valuable and precious and that in matters of the heart they could offer me a life.
There was life after and well beyond the Military Industrial Complex, there was just the small matter of dealing with the alien starship troopers on the ground and all their funky stuff..