CHAPTER 7
At bedtime as a child, Ben Skyles’ mother often reassured him ghosts, goblins, spooks and other things that went bump in the night were make-believe. As an adult, he sometimes wanted to correct her about the spooks. They were real! They wore dark suits! And they worked for the federal government!
Awaking, Skyles found himself in a small gray room with his chest, hands and legs strapped to a hospital bed. Cords and electrodes were attached to seemingly every part of his body, stretching through the air behind him like strings on a marionette, feeding his bio-signs to racks of equipment, an indicator to him that they suspected his mind was out of synch. He tried to remember how he got to this place, wherever he was, but his thoughts swirled around and around in his head, scrunched between obscure images — the moon, the stars, Earth, spiral galaxies — that ran on and on and on like a poorly constructed sentence, and he wondered why the moon didn’t have a name like Earth had a name — after all, nobody called Earth the planet — and then he wondered why he was wondering any of this at all. Rest was what helped slow his mind when it acted like this. He closed his eyes, taking advantage of his solitude, unaware if his confinement was the help he needed, or trouble…
Skyles didn’t know the suit who had confronted him at the bar by name, but despite an ailing memory, he couldn’t forget the man’s face, those obscure glaring eyes, his large stature, and the smooth confidence in his stride. The same stride that now glided through the door of Skyles’ hospital room — or observation room, or jail cell. Skyles still had not determined where he was sequestered. He shut his eyes and feigned sleep, hoping to avoid the man in the black suit a while longer. The man’s footsteps were gentle as they approached the bed, then stopped and the room became as silent as when Skyles was alone. A few awkward seconds passed. Skyles tried opening his right eye enough to see, without making it appear open.
“Quit pretending to be asleep. I saw your eyes open on a video monitor before I came in.”
Skyles opened his eyes, searching for the camera.
“It’s hidden. Don’t bother looking for it,” the man said in a monotone voice as he stared down at Skyles, offering no hint of his attitude toward him.
Skyles made eye contact for a second, but then let his gaze retreat toward the ceiling. The man’s intent stare felt like heat from the desert sun against his face. Skyles wanted to say something to break the silence but was at a loss for words, and the man’s raspy voice made him uneasy, as if the devil himself was speaking.
Realizing how uncomfortable his presence was making Skyles, Owens smiled and said, “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Ben. As long as you cooperate.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Skyles asked, finally making eye contact with Owens.
“I need you to tell me about that woman you were with at the bar?” Owens said in a conversational tone.
Skyles assumed they were concerned with his marital situation. “Just some girl looking for a good time. Look, you know I’m married. It was wrong. But I’ve been having some problems lately — with my marriage,” he added quickly, not wanting to suggest more than was necessary. “I don’t know why I thought it might ease my mind. Just tell me what I’ve got to do to fix things.”
The government discouraged infidelity with workers of Ben Skyles’ stature. Such trysts opened the door to blackmail and other scandalous situations that detracted from the mental focus necessary to achieve optimal performance on the job.
“I figured it was something like that,” Owens said. “Pretty lady. I wish I could have let you be, but I had a job to do.”
“I understand,” Skyles said with a smile, hoping that soon it would all be over.
Owens began unbuckling the leather straps around Skyles’ wrists. “I’m sorry we had to haul you in here and put you through this. Standard procedure. Once we checked out the woman and confirmed she wasn’t a spy or something of that nature, we cleared you of any wrongdoing. You’ll be going home soon. You have a two-week administrative leave — paid. Stay close to home and relax, concentrate on your marriage. If you aren’t happy at home, it’s tough to be happy on the job.”
Skyles thought two weeks of rest might help him lick the problems that had been plaguing his mind. He was grateful that through all this he managed to keep them to himself.
Owens continued to study Skyles’ facial expressions, especially noting the relief evident through his smile. That was the reaction Owens wanted. The tests on Skyles showed a disturbance. All they could determine was that the problems had an external source, something in Skyles’ life apart from work. Owens figured that two weeks would be long enough to find the problem.
CHAPTER 8
SECRECY OR DECEPTION IN THE NEVADA DESERT?
By William Moreau
Part III of III
CONSPIRACY THEORIES AND THE FUTURE
NEVADA, June 1994 — Congress may dodge questions about black budgets, but the trails are evident. Billions are spent developing secret technologies at facilities like the Groom Lake airbase. Besides reducing oversight, the secrecy also leads to speculation about what kind of technology requires such anonymity.
When word broke that the Groom Lake airbase was a vault for black projects, the UFO sightings in the vicinity were dismissed as the military’s next generation of stealth aircraft. The noticeable jump in technology from the stealth to the lights in the sky above Groom Lake was extreme, however. Witnesses reported the objects flying vertically, making ninety-degree turns at lightning fast speeds, stopping instantly in midair, and hovering soundlessly. Such aeronautical feats left UFO proponents wondering where the technology originated. Their suspicions were strengthened when former base workers brought forth testimonies about an underground facility near Groom Lake where the government back-engineered recovered extraterrestrial technology.
Officials vehemently denied the allegations, and the continued veil of secrecy surrounding the base spawned a UFO renaissance movement. A topic scoffed at for decades was revisited — first at a grassroots level, then through print, television, film and even by some in Washington. The resulting debates opened a Pandora’s box of questions about accountability, technology, cover-ups, government knowledge, and hidden spending — standard conspiracy theorist arguments. The truth is: the only conspiracy is one of silence, aimed at limiting public understanding of government-controlled technology.
WHAT LIES AHEAD?
The Groom Lake airbase is a sign of the times. Fingers can be pointed and accusations made and denied about who is to blame, but the dilemma facing America remains: extreme secrecy has led to a lack of accountability, oversight, and understanding.
America’s doctrines have simple ideals — freedom, democracy, power of the people — that shaped the country into a role model for the free world. While change is inevitable, altering America’s founding principles will jeopardize the country’s sovereignty. America was designed to be a country of the people, for the people and by the people. As the climate continues to veer deeper into the black world, the American people must ask themselves: Is this in our best interest?
Questioning political ideology is not unique, but America is. Maybe the country should reflect more on the thoughts of their founders, and follow them, lest they forget this part of their independence declaration: