ULTRA TOP SECURITY
LEVEL 6 CLEARANCE
DR. DAN CANE
EBL MJ-12
“It was my security badge. Turn it over and you will find who issued it.”
Snapp took it out of the plastic cover and turned it over. On the back was the date of issue, a signature that was scrawled out and property of EG & G Inc.
“How do I know this was yours? It says Dr. Dan Cane. Who is that?”
“I am, or was. No one uses their real last name for security reasons. We keep our first name most of the time because that is an easy one to get stumped on. I was Dan Cane.”
Snapp looked at him, waiting for a more satisfactory answer. None came.
“All right, suppose I buy into that; it doesn’t say anything about this alleged Area 51 or Dreamland if you like. There's no mention of this secret S–4 lab,” George said.
The doctor smiled and handed the book to him and said, “Read.”
George spent the next two hours going over the documents, taking notes and asking questions. Each page seemed to bring more questions than it answered. His head was spinning by the time he finished the last page. He saw several pictures of the man before him with the name listed as Dr. Dan Cane. Several awards for scientific breakthroughs were in the name of Dr. Cane as well. He closed the book and sat, lost in thought.
“Hungry?” the doctor asked.
“Actually yes. I didn’t realize how long we have been at it.”
“Loretta, would you bring us a couple of sandwiches and something cold to drink?” he said over an intercom.
“I’m your secretary, not the maid,” she replied back.
“She’ll bring them,” he said and smiled.
He gave Snapp a complete tour, explaining what each piece of equipment was used for and what he had been experimenting with.
A few minutes later, Loretta brought in a tray of sandwiches, a pitcher of ice tea and a freshly baked pan of brownies.
“Thank you dear,” the doctor said.
“Humph,” she said and walked out.
“Told you she would bring them. She baked brownies for us too. She must like you,” the doctor grinned, rubbing his beard.
They ate with little conversation until they had finished.
“This is way over my head. I didn’t understand half the information I read. What the hell is MJ-12 anyway?”
“You may recall that in 1947 there was a story about a flying saucer that was found in Roswell, New Mexico.”
“Sure everyone knows about that. It turned out to be a weather balloon,” George said.
“Are you sure? Not everyone else seemed so sure. Certainly not the President at the time, Harry Truman, nor the Supreme Commander, General MacArthur. Too many strange things were being spotted in the deserts of New Mexico. We were conducting nuclear tests in those days. Trinity and all that stuff. All above ground no less. They were convinced that the Russians or someone was spying on the testing. They formed a very special group of scientists to investigate. The group was called the Majestic 12. It was a top secret organization that reported only to the President. They had an unlimited budget and any government resource at their fingertips. They were based at Nellis Gunnery Range, Area 51, and all the other names that have been attached to that mystic place. When people began to find out about Area 51, they decided it was time to move some of the most secret projects, projects that were even more important than the U2, SR 71 or even the Nighthawk 117. They picked a facility at the base of the Papoose Mountain about twelve miles down the road. It was built right into the side of the mountain. The exterior was made to look as much like the surrounding area as possible even down to the textured paint on the bay doors.”
“You’re saying that we have projects more important than the stealth programs?”
“Dear boy, projects way more important.”
“You’re referring to space travel?”
“I’m referring to dimensional travel,” he said sitting back in his chair.
“Dimensional travel, what the hell is that?”
“Do you know what frame-dragging refers to?” Doctor Barnett asked.
“Sorry, haven’t a clue.”
“It’s also referred to as the Lense-Thirring effect. Time is like a framework and when a heavy object, such as the earth, is placed in the field of the frame, or time if you like, it drags it down, causing a distortion.”
“I’m not sure I get it totally, but I sort of do. Something like putting a bowling ball on a net?”
“A very, very tight net. It distorts the time immediately around the object. Now if you could distort time enough, sometimes referred to as ‘folding’, you would be able to travel tremendous distances in virtually no time at all.”
“Sounds like the hyper-space they used in Star Wars,” Snapp replied.
“What is Star Wars? The project President Reagan started?” the doctor asked.
“A movie. The Millennium Falcon?”
“Millennium Falcon?” the doctor said, looking at him like he had just lost his mind.
“Never mind. I get the concept,” George said.
“Yes, well, this isn’t a movie. This is real. We are learning how to unlock the potential. Not me actually. I was working on a different project. Others were working on the travel distortion project.”
“Any success?”
“Oh yes. It has been done, many, many times. Just not by us. They are now trying to reverse engineer the device that makes it possible.”
“Reverse engineer. Where did they get the first one to take apart?”
“Why from alien spacecraft.”
Snapp listened intently for the next hour as the doctor told a story of alien craft that had visited earth and of the ones that had crashed and were in the possession of the military.
S–4 was the facility where they were kept. He said he had actually seen one but others who worked on the time distortion project told him they had eight others. For his part, he was working on a biometric process to stop the aging and disintegration of alien cells while on earth. It was at that point that Snapp had to decide if he was talking to a crazy man or someone who was telling the truth.
According to the doctor, one of the aliens from the Roswell crash back in 1947 was still alive. His age was approximately 250 years using earth time as a measurement. The problem was that he was dying due to cell disintegration. The doctor was heading up a team to try to reverse or stop the process.
He told Snapp that the alien was referred to as J — Rod or simply J. When George had asked how they came up with that name, the doctor told them that during the early stages when trying to learn to communicate with the alien, he had drawn a figure that looked much like our J and a symbol that someone called a rod. The name stuck and he became J-Rod. Most of the team just referred to him as J.
“Have you ever heard of someone named Lake working at the S–4 facility?”
“I couldn’t tell you. Remember, they change our names,” the doctor reminded him.
“If I could show you a picture of the man?”
“Maybe. We had many additional scientists besides the MJ–12 group.”
George handed over a picture from a newspaper clipping, taken at Los Alamos, New Mexico.
“Robert. Dr. Robert. Sure I knew him. He was working on a propulsion system. As I recall, something to do with Element 115. They were trying to find a way to produce it and determine how it could be used for propulsion.”
“How did they know it could even be used in such a way?”
“Dear boy, that’s what the aliens used to get to earth. That’s how we learned about Element 115 as a potential fuel source for space travel. It acts as an anti-gravitational material. When placed in the proper reactor, for lack of a better word, it can distort time and actually fold it. I don’t know all the details but Dr. Robert was working on it.”