Speaker 1: For decades, people have disappeared in the woods without a trace.
Speaker 1: Some blame wild animals, others whisper of creatures the world
Speaker 1: refuses to believe in. But those who have survived they
Speaker 1: know the truth. Welcome to Backwoods Bigfoot Stories, where we
Speaker 1: share real encounters with the things lurking in the darkness bigfoot,
Speaker 1: dog man UFOs, and creatures that defy explanation. Some make
Speaker 1: it out, others aren't so lucky. Are you ready, because
Speaker 1: once you hear these stories, you'll never walk in the
Speaker 1: woods alone again. So grab your flashlight, stay close and
Speaker 1: remember some things in the woods don't want to be found.
Speaker 1: Hit that follow or subscribe button, turn on auto downloads,
Speaker 1: and let's head off into the woods if you dare.
Speaker 1: They say that memory is a fragile thing, that trauma
Speaker 1: can fracture it into a thousand pieces that never quite
Speaker 1: fit back together the same way. But I remember everything,
Speaker 1: every second, every sensation, every impossible moment that defied everything
Speaker 1: I thought I knew about reality. The memories are burned
Speaker 1: into my consciousness with a clarity that normal experiences never achieve,
Speaker 1: as if whatever they did to me ensured I could
Speaker 1: never forget, never dismiss it as nightmare or delusion. My
Speaker 1: name is Marcus, and I need you to understand something
Speaker 1: before I tell you my story. I am not crazy,
Speaker 1: I am not seeking attention. I am not delusional. I
Speaker 1: have been examined by psychiatrists, neurologists, and every type of
Speaker 1: specialist you can imagine. My brain scans are normal, my
Speaker 1: psychological profiles are unremarkable. I hold a steady job as
Speaker 1: an electrical engineer. I have a family, though that relationship
Speaker 1: has been strained by what I'm about to tell you.
Speaker 1: I am, by every measurable standard, a rational and functioning
Speaker 1: member of society. But for thirty years they have been
Speaker 1: taking me. I was ten years old when it started,
Speaker 1: though I now suspect they had been watching me long
Speaker 1: before that October night in nineteen ninety four. We lived
Speaker 1: in a rural part of northern Minnesota in a house
Speaker 1: surrounded by dense pine forests that seemed to swallow sound
Speaker 1: and light alike. My bedroom was on the second floor,
Speaker 1: a small space with a single window that looked out
Speaker 1: over the backyard and into the endless darkness of the
Speaker 1: woods beyond. That night began like any other. I had
Speaker 1: gone to bed around nine p thirty, Exhausted from a
Speaker 1: day of helping my father stack firewood for the coming winter.
Speaker 1: The house was quiet, except for the occasional creak of
Speaker 1: settling wood and the distant sound of my parents television downstairs.
Speaker 1: I remember lying there watching the shadows of tree branches
Speaker 1: dance across my ceiling in the moonlight. When every changed,
Speaker 1: the first thing I noticed was the silence. Not normal
Speaker 1: nighttime quiet, but a complete absence of sound that felt
Speaker 1: like pressure against my ear drums. The crickets that had
Speaker 1: been chirping moments before were gone. The hum of the
Speaker 1: refrigerator downstairs, a constant white noise I had never consciously
Speaker 1: noticed until it disappeared, was absent. Even my own breathing
Speaker 1: seemed muffled, as if the air itself had become thick
Speaker 1: and resistant. Then came the light. It started as a
Speaker 1: soft blue glow, seeping through the edges of my window blinds,
Speaker 1: pulsing with a rhythm that seemed almost organic. My first
Speaker 1: thought was that someone was outside with a flashlight, maybe
Speaker 1: my father checking on something in the yard. But the
Speaker 1: light was wrong. It didn't behave like any artificial light
Speaker 1: I had ever seen. It seemed to pass through solid
Speaker 1: objects rather than illuminating them, creating shadows that bent in
Speaker 1: impossible directions. I wanted to get up to run to
Speaker 1: my parents room, but my body wouldn't respond. I could
Speaker 1: move my eyes, but nothing else. The paralysis was complete
Speaker 1: and instantaneous, as if someone had simply switched off the
Speaker 1: connection between my brain and my muscles. Panic flooded through me,
Speaker 1: but even my attempts to scream produced nothing more than
Speaker 1: a weak exhalation. The blue light intensified, filling my room
Speaker 1: with an ethereal glow that made everything look underwater. And
Speaker 1: then I saw them. They didn't enter through the door
Speaker 1: or window. They were simply there, three figures, standing at
Speaker 1: the foot of my bed, as if they had materialized
Speaker 1: from the light itself. Even through my terror, I remember
Speaker 1: being struck by how wrong they looked, how every aspect
Speaker 1: of their appearance seemed designed to trigger some primal fear
Speaker 1: response in the human brain. They were roughly four feet tall,
Speaker 1: with oversized heads that seemed too heavy for their thin
Speaker 1: necks to support. Their skin was a modeled gray color,
Speaker 1: like old newspaper that had been left in the rain.
Speaker 1: But it was their eyes that haunted me then and
Speaker 1: haunt me, still, massive black orbs that reflected no light,
Speaker 1: that seemed to pull you in like twin voids. When
Speaker 1: they looked at you, and I mean really looked at you,
Speaker 1: it felt like they were reading every thought you had
Speaker 1: ever had, every memory you had ever formed, cataloging and
Speaker 1: analyzing you like a specimen. The one in the center
Speaker 1: raised its hand, and I noticed it had only three fingers,
Speaker 1: plus what might have been a thumb, each ending in
Speaker 1: what looked like a small suction pad. It made a gesture,
Speaker 1: and suddenly I was floating, not flying, not being lifted,
Speaker 1: but floating upward, as if gravity had simply stopped applying
Speaker 1: to me. My blanket fell away, and I rose toward
Speaker 1: my ceiling in my pajamas, helpless and terrified, beyond the
Speaker 1: capacity for rational thought. The ceiling didn't stop me. I
Speaker 1: passed through it like it was made of mist, feeling
Speaker 1: a brief tingling sensation as the solid matter moved through
Speaker 1: my body. I could see down into the attic for
Speaker 1: a split second, illuminated by that strange blue light. Before
Speaker 1: I was through the roof and into the night air.
Speaker 1: The cold hit me immediately, the October wind cutting through
Speaker 1: my thin pajamas, but the paralysis remained complete. I could
Speaker 1: only watch as the ground fell away below me, my
Speaker 1: house becoming smaller, the lights of town visible in the
Speaker 1: distance like scattered stars that had fallen to earth above me,
Speaker 1: blotting out the real stars was something that my ten
Speaker 1: year old mind could not process. The craft, if that's
Speaker 1: what you want to call it, was massive, easily three
Speaker 1: hundred feet across, a dark, metallic disc that seemed to
Speaker 1: absorb light rather than reflect it. The surface wasn't smooth,
Speaker 1: but covered in what looked like geometric patterns that hurt
Speaker 1: to look at directly, as if they existed in more
Speaker 1: dimensions than my eyes could perceive. There were no visible windows,
Speaker 1: no doors, no engines, nothing that suggested how something so
Speaker 1: large could hover silently in the air. As I rose
Speaker 1: toward it, a section of the underside began to glow
Speaker 1: with that same blue light. The solid metal seemed to
Speaker 1: become liquid, creating an opening that I was drawn into.
Speaker 1: The moment I passed through, the cold disappeared, replaced by
Speaker 1: air that felt thick and humid, with a metallic taste
Speaker 1: that coated the back of my throat. The interior was
Speaker 1: nothing like the flying saucers from movies. The walls curved
Speaker 1: in ways that made no architectural sense, meeting at angles
Speaker 1: that seemed to change depending on how you looked at them.
Speaker 1: The lighting had no visible source but seemed to emanate
Speaker 1: from the air itself, casting no shadows. And the smell God,
Speaker 1: the smell like ozone and copper and something organic that
Speaker 1: I couldn't identify, something that triggered a revulsion so deep
Speaker 1: it felt genetic. I was floating down a corridor that
Speaker 1: seemed to stretch impossibly far, the passing doorways that opened
Speaker 1: onto rooms filled with things I couldn't understand. In one,
Speaker 1: I could see what looked like dozens of glass cylinders
Speaker 1: filled with a thick amber fluid. In another, walls covered
Speaker 1: in symbols that seemed to move and shift when I
Speaker 1: wasn't looking directly at them. And in one terrible moment,
Speaker 1: I saw other humans. A woman maybe in her thirties,
Speaker 1: unconscious and suspended in some kind of energy field, a
Speaker 1: man elderly with tubes connected to various parts of his body,
Speaker 1: A child younger than me curled in a fetal position
Speaker 1: inside what looked like a transparent sphere. The paralysis broke
Speaker 1: When I entered what I can only describe as an
Speaker 1: examination room, I collapsed onto a table that seemed to
Speaker 1: mold itself to my body, holding me in place without
Speaker 1: visible restraints. The three beings from my bedroom were there,
Speaker 1: along with two others. One was taller, maybe five feet,
Speaker 1: with a more elongated head and fingers that seemed to
Speaker 1: have extra joints. This one appeared to be in charge,
Speaker 1: moving with a deliberation that suggested authority. They didn't speak,
Speaker 1: not with voices, but I could feel their communication, not words, exactly,
Speaker 1: but concepts and images that appeared in my mind with
Speaker 1: a clarity that made me certain they weren't my own thoughts.
Speaker 1: They were curious. That was the overwhelming sense I got.
Speaker 1: Not malicious, not cruel, but curious, in the way a
Speaker 1: scientist might be curious about a lab rat. The examination
Speaker 1: began with the tall one placing its hand on my forehead.
Speaker 1: The moment it made contact, my vision exploded into fragments
Speaker 1: of memory. Every moment of my life played out simultaneously,
Speaker 1: from my earliest memories to that very second. But it
Speaker 1: wasn't just reviewing them, It was copying them, downloading them
Speaker 1: into some vast consciousness that I could feel at the
Speaker 1: edges of my perception. I saw my memories being sorted, categorized,
Speaker 1: cross referenced with data I couldn't come prehend. Then came
Speaker 1: the physical examination, and this is where my memory becomes fragmented.
Speaker 1: Whether from trauma or some intentional suppression, I don't know.
Speaker 1: I remember instruments that seemed to be made of light itself,
Speaker 1: passing through my body without cutting, but somehow taking samples.
Speaker 1: I remember a needle impossibly thin, being inserted into the
Speaker 1: base of my skull, and a sensation like ice water
Speaker 1: flowing through my brain. I remember screaming or trying to scream,
Speaker 1: but no sound coming out. The worst part was the implant.
Speaker 1: The tall one produced something so small I could barely
Speaker 1: see it, like a grain of rice, but metallic and
Speaker 1: covered in tiny filaments that moved on their own. It
Speaker 1: showed it to me, letting me see it clearly, wanting
Speaker 1: me to know what was happening. Then it pressed it
Speaker 1: against the side of my nose and I felt it
Speaker 1: burrow in. Not painful exactly, but wrong, fundamentally wrong, like
Speaker 1: something violating the boundary between cell health and not self.
Speaker 1: Time became meaningless in that room. It could have been minutes,
Speaker 1: or hours or days. At some point I became aware
Speaker 1: that they were showing me things. Images projected directly into
Speaker 1: my mind Earth from space, but not current Earth. I
Speaker 1: somehow knew I was seeing the past and future simultaneously.
Speaker 1: Cities I didn't recognize, some appearing ancient beyond measure, others
Speaker 1: seeming to be built from materials that didn't exist yet
Speaker 1: in other worlds, planets with purple skies and crystalline forests,
Speaker 1: oceans of liquid methane, deserts of diamond dust. They showed
Speaker 1: me humans, but changed, some with enlarged heads like theirs,
Speaker 1: others with modifications I couldn't understand. They showed me disasters,
Speaker 1: nuclear war, plagues, environmental collapse, and then recovery, evolution, transformation.
Speaker 1: They showed me their own world, or what I assumed
Speaker 1: their world, a place where the distinction between organic and
Speaker 1: technological had ceased to exist, where consciousness moved freely between
Speaker 1: biological and artificial substrates. And then they showed me myself,
Speaker 1: not as I was, but as I could be, dozens
Speaker 1: of potential futures spreading out like branches on a tree.
Speaker 1: In some I was explaining what happened to me to
Speaker 1: rooms full of people. In others, I was in institutions
Speaker 1: labeled insane. In one, I was working with them, though
Speaker 1: I couldn't understand in what capacity, And in one terrifying vision,
Speaker 1: I was one of them, transformed so completely that nothing
Speaker 1: human remained. The images stopped as suddenly as they had begun,
Speaker 1: and I found myself being moved again, floating back through
Speaker 1: those impossible corridors. But this time I was led to
Speaker 1: a different room, one that contained other humans. They were conscious,
Speaker 1: but seemed drugged, their movements slow and dream like. A
Speaker 1: woman reached out to me, her mouth forming words I
Speaker 1: couldn't hear. A teenage boy sat in a corner, rocking
Speaker 1: back and forth, his eyes wide with shock. An older
Speaker 1: man was examining his own hands, as if he had
Speaker 1: never seen them before. We were left there together for
Speaker 1: what felt like hours. Sometimes one of the beings would
Speaker 1: enter and take someone away, and they wouldn't come back.
Speaker 1: Eventually it was my turn again, but this time, instead
Speaker 1: of an examination, I was shown something else. They took
Speaker 1: me to what I can only describe as an observation deck,
Speaker 1: though there were no windows in any traditional sense. Instead,
Speaker 1: the walls became transparent, revealing the view outside. We were
Speaker 1: in orbit, Earth spinning slowly below us. But it wasn't
Speaker 1: just one Earth. I could see multiple versions of it, overlapping,
Speaker 1: like double exposures, each slightly different. In one, the lights
Speaker 1: of cities covered every land mass. In another, the planet
Speaker 1: was dark, lifeless, and yet another the continents themselves were
Speaker 1: arranged differently. The tall being stood beside me, and for
Speaker 1: the first time I felt something like emotion from it,
Speaker 1: not human emotion, but something analogous. It was showing me
Speaker 1: this for a reason, trying to communicate something important. The
Speaker 1: images in my mind came faster now, concepts about probability
Speaker 1: and observation and the nature of reality itself. They were
Speaker 1: studying us, yes, but not just us. They were studying
Speaker 1: every possible version of us, tracking the trajectories of human
Speaker 1: evolution across infinite parallel timelines. We were not just specimens
Speaker 1: to them. We were data points in some vast experiment
Speaker 1: that spanned dimensions I couldn't comprehend. And the implant they
Speaker 1: had put in me it wasn't just a tracking device.
Speaker 1: It was a window, a way for them to observe
Speaker 1: not just where I was, but which version of reality
Speaker 1: I was experiencing. Stay tuned for more Backwoods Bigfoot stories.
Speaker 1: We'll be back after these messages. The return to my
Speaker 1: bedroom was as sudden as the abduction. One moment I
Speaker 1: was standing in that impossible room. The next I was
Speaker 1: in my bed, blanket pulled up to my chin, morning
Speaker 1: sunlight streaming through my window. I sat up, convinced it
Speaker 1: had been the most vivid nightmare of my life until
Speaker 1: I felt the small lump beside my nose where the
Speaker 1: implant had been inserted. I ran to the bathroom mirror
Speaker 1: and could see it, just barely, a tiny ridge under
Speaker 1: the skin that hadn't been there before. I tried to
Speaker 1: tell my parents, but the words wouldn't come out right.
Speaker 1: Every time I started to explain, my throat would close up,
Speaker 1: or I would suddenly forget what I was trying to say.
Speaker 1: It was as if something was preventing me from communicating
Speaker 1: what had happened. I drew pictures instead, obsessively filling notebook
Speaker 1: after notebook with sketches of the beings, the craft, the
Speaker 1: symbols I had seen. My parents, concerned took me to
Speaker 1: a child psychologist, who diagnosed me with night terrors and
Speaker 1: an over active imagination, but I knew the truth, and
Speaker 1: I knew with a certainty that chilled me to my core,
Speaker 1: that they would be back. The second taking came exactly
Speaker 1: one year later, October nineteen ninety five, and this time
Speaker 1: I was ready for it. I had spent the intervening
Speaker 1: months researching everything I could find about UFOs and alien abductions.
Speaker 1: This was before the Internet was widely available, so I
Speaker 1: relied on books from the library, many of which I
Speaker 1: had to special order from other branches. I read Whitley
Speaker 1: Strieber's Communion and was shocked by how similar his descriptions
Speaker 1: were to my experience. I studied the Betty and Barney
Speaker 1: Hill case, the Travis Walton incident, and dozens of other
Speaker 1: accounts I had also started preparing. I kept a camera
Speaker 1: by my bed, though I would later discover it wouldn't
Speaker 1: work when they came. I tried to stay awake every
Speaker 1: night in October, dosing myself with caffeine, but exhaustion would
Speaker 1: always overtake me at the crucial moment. I even convinced
Speaker 1: my older brother to sleep in my room one night,
Speaker 1: but he experienced nothing while I was taken from the
Speaker 1: bed right beside him. When the paralysis hit that second time,
Speaker 1: I recognized it immediately, the same silence, the same blue light,
Speaker 1: But this time there was something else. I could feel
Speaker 1: them in my mind before they appeared, a presence that
Speaker 1: was both alien and increasingly familiar. The three beings materialized
Speaker 1: just as before, but this time I noticed details I
Speaker 1: had missed in my terror the first time. They moved
Speaker 1: with perfect synchronization, like they were parts of a single organism.
Speaker 1: Their skin wasn't actually gray, but seemed to shift between
Speaker 1: different shades depending on the angle of the light, and
Speaker 1: their eyes, those terrible black eyes occasionally showed reflections of
Speaker 1: things that weren't in the room, as if they were
Speaker 1: windows to somewhere else. The journey to the craft was
Speaker 1: the same, but this time I was able to observe more.
Speaker 1: I saw that we weren't the only ones being taken.
Speaker 1: In the distance, I could see other beams of blue light,
Speaker 1: other figures floating upward. The craft itself was even larger
Speaker 1: than I had estimated, and there were others. I counted
Speaker 1: at least three more, hovering at different altitudes, all engaged
Speaker 1: in the same harvest of human subjects. This time, they
Speaker 1: took me to a different area of the ship. Instead
Speaker 1: of the examination room, I was brought to what seemed
Speaker 1: to be a storage facility. The walls were lined with
Speaker 1: what looked like filing cabinets, but organic pulsing with a
Speaker 1: faint bioluminescence. The tall being from before was there and
Speaker 1: it recognized me. I could feel its acknowledgment, almost like
Speaker 1: satisfaction that I had returned. It showed me to one
Speaker 1: of the cabinet things, and somehow conveyed that this contained
Speaker 1: information about me, not just from the past year, but
Speaker 1: from before I was born. I saw images in my
Speaker 1: mind of my parents being watched, my conception being noted,
Speaker 1: my development in the womb being monitored. They had been
Speaker 1: preparing for me, for all of us, long before we
Speaker 1: were taken the examination. This time was different, less invasive physically,
Speaker 1: but more intensive mentally. They seemed to be testing my
Speaker 1: responses to various stimuli. They would project images into my
Speaker 1: mind and monitor my reactions. Some were benign landscapes and
Speaker 1: geometric patterns. Others were horrifying scenes of violence and destruction
Speaker 1: that felt so real I could smell the smoke and blood,
Speaker 1: and some were incomprehensible concepts and dimensions that my brain
Speaker 1: couldn't process, leaving me with a feeling of vertigo that
Speaker 1: persisted for weeks. Afterward, they also began what I can
Speaker 1: only describe as education. The tall one would touch my forehead,
Speaker 1: and suddenly I would understand things I had never learned,
Speaker 1: mathematical concepts beyond anything taught in school, physics that contradicted
Speaker 1: everything I thought of. I knew about the universe, biological
Speaker 1: processes that seemed to suggest life was far more flexible
Speaker 1: and adaptable than we believed. But with the knowledge came
Speaker 1: something else. Each piece of information they gave me was
Speaker 1: connected to a kind of trigger. If I tried to
Speaker 1: write it down later, my hand would cramp. If I
Speaker 1: tried to speak about it, the words would jumble in
Speaker 1: my mouth. The knowledge was there, but locked away, accessible
Speaker 1: only in dreams and moments of extreme stress. During this
Speaker 1: second taking, I also encountered something new. Among the standard
Speaker 1: gray beings was something else, something that looked almost human,
Speaker 1: but wrong in every way that mattered. Its proportions were
Speaker 1: off limbs, slightly too long, joints that bent in too
Speaker 1: many places. Its face was a mockery of human features,
Speaker 1: with eyes that were almost normal, except for the pupils
Speaker 1: that contracted horizontally like a goat's. It smiled at me,
Speaker 1: revealing teeth that were all canines, and I under stood
Speaker 1: with horrible clarity that this thing had once been human.
Speaker 1: The hybrid, as I came to think of it, seemed
Speaker 1: to be learning from the grays. It would observe their procedures,
Speaker 1: sometimes attempting to replicate them with its disturbingly flexible hands.
Speaker 1: When it looked at me, I felt a connection that
Speaker 1: was different from the alien presence of the grays. It
Speaker 1: was human enough to feel emotions I recognized, and what
Speaker 1: I felt from it was a mixture of curiosity, hunger,
Speaker 1: and something like homesickness. They showed me others like it,
Speaker 1: dozens of them, in various stages of transformation. Some looked
Speaker 1: mostly human with subtle alterations. Others were so changed they
Speaker 1: bore only the vaguest resemblance to their original species. And
Speaker 1: they showed me the process, though thankfully not in detail,
Speaker 1: genetic manipulation that went beyond simple DNA editing, changes at
Speaker 1: a quantum level that affected not just biology but the
Speaker 1: fundamental nature of consciousness itself. The message was clear, this
Speaker 1: was our future, or at least one possible future, Humanity
Speaker 1: would not remain as it was, Whether through our own
Speaker 1: actions or theirs, we were going to change, to evolve,
Speaker 1: to become something else. The only question was whether we
Speaker 1: would guide that transformation or have it forced upon us.
Speaker 1: They returned me just before dawn, and this time I
Speaker 1: retained more conscious memory of the experience. I also discovered
Speaker 1: something else. The implant they had put in me was active.
Speaker 1: I could feel it, sometimes a warmth beside my nose,
Speaker 1: usually just before something significant happened. It seemed to be
Speaker 1: recording everything I experienced, transmitting it to them wherever they were.
Speaker 1: The takings became more frequent after that, not yearly anymore,
Speaker 1: but every few months, sometimes even more often. By the
Speaker 1: time I was thirteen, I'd been taken at least a
Speaker 1: dozen times, each experience built on the last, like I
Speaker 1: was enrolled in some bizarre educational pro gram I never
Speaker 1: signed up for. They started taking me to other places,
Speaker 1: not just their craft, underground facilities that seemed to exist
Speaker 1: partially in our dimension and partially somewhere else, underwater bases
Speaker 1: where the pressure should have killed me instantly but didn't,
Speaker 1: and once memorably to what appeared to be a station
Speaker 1: on the far side of the moon. Though how we
Speaker 1: got there in what seemed like seconds I still don't understand.
Speaker 1: It was during one of these trips that I met
Speaker 1: others like me. They called us repeaters, humans who were
Speaker 1: taken regularly, rather than just once or twice. There was Sarah,
Speaker 1: a nurse from Oregon who had been taken since childhood
Speaker 1: like me. David, a physics professor from Japan who had
Speaker 1: started being taken in his twenties. Maria, an artist from
Speaker 1: Brazil whose paintings of her experiences had gained her a
Speaker 1: following among UFO believers. We were allowed to interact sometimes,
Speaker 1: though always under observation. We compared experiences, finding patterns and takings.
Speaker 1: We had all received implants. We had all been shown
Speaker 1: the same visions of Earth's possible futures, and we had
Speaker 1: all been changed in subtle ways. Sarah found she could
Speaker 1: sometimes sense illness in people before symptoms appeared. David's understanding
Speaker 1: of physics had leaped beyond his education, though he couldn't
Speaker 1: publish his insights without suffering debilitating migraines. Maria's art had
Speaker 1: taken on an otherworldly quality that seemed to affect viewers
Speaker 1: on a subconscious level. I discovered my own changes Gradually.
Speaker 1: My dreams were no longer entirely my own. Sometimes I
Speaker 1: would dream of places I had never been, people I
Speaker 1: had never met, but with such vivid detail that I
Speaker 1: could draw maps of buildings I had never entered. Later,
Speaker 1: I would sometimes see these places on the news or
Speaker 1: in photographs and recognize them instantly. I was seeing through
Speaker 1: other eyes, other abductees maybe, or perhaps the hybrids themselves.
Speaker 1: I also developed what I can own describe as a
Speaker 1: sense for them. I knew when they were near, even
Speaker 1: when they weren't coming for me. I could feel their presence,
Speaker 1: like pressure in the air before a storm. Sometimes I
Speaker 1: would see them in peripheral vision, standing in crowds or
Speaker 1: watching from shadows, only to look directly and find nothing there.
Speaker 1: The worst taking came when I was fifteen. They kept
Speaker 1: me for what felt like days, though only a single
Speaker 1: night passed on earth. This time, the examination was brutal.
Speaker 1: They seemed to be testing the limits of human endurance,
Speaker 1: physical and psychological. They would bring me to the edge
Speaker 1: of death and then heal me completely, only to start again.
Speaker 1: They showed me horrors beyond description, things that human minds
Speaker 1: weren't meant to process. But they also showed me wonders.
Speaker 1: Civilizations that had existed millions of years before Earth, formed
Speaker 1: technologies that looked like magic manipulation of matter and energy
Speaker 1: at the quantum level. They showed me how consciousness itself
Speaker 1: could be transferred, copied, broadcast across space. They showed me
Speaker 1: humans who had volunteered to join them, who had abandoned
Speaker 1: their bodies entirely to exist as pure information in their
Speaker 1: collective consciousness. And they showed me why they were doing this.
Speaker 1: The universe they conveyed was dying, not in billions of years,
Speaker 1: as our scientists believed, but much sooner. Reality itself was degrading,
Speaker 1: breaking down at the fundamental level. They were collecting consciousness,
Speaker 1: preserving it, preparing for a transition to something else. Humanity
Speaker 1: was just one of thousands of species they were harvesting, cataloging,
Speaker 1: attempting to save in their own twisted way. But there
Speaker 1: was disagreement among them. I could sense factions, different groups
Speaker 1: with different ideas about how to proceed. Some wanted to
Speaker 1: accelerate the process, to force humanity to evolve quickly before
Speaker 1: it was too late others preferred observation minimal interference, and
Speaker 1: some terrifyingly saw us as nothing more than raw material
Speaker 1: consciousness to be absorbed and integrated into their collective. By
Speaker 1: my late teens, I had learned to resist them to
Speaker 1: some degree, not prevent the takings that seemed impossible, but
Speaker 1: maintain more consciousness during them, remember more afterward. I discovered
Speaker 1: that certain mental exercises, particularly mathematical visualization, helped maintain my
Speaker 1: sense of self when they tried to overwhelm my mind.
Speaker 1: I also wasn't alone in this resistance. Through careful research
Speaker 1: and networking in early Internet UFO forms, I found others
Speaker 1: who had developed similar techniques. We began to share information carefully,
Speaker 1: always aware that they were watching. We developed codes ways
Speaker 1: of communicating that hopefully they couldn't fully understand. One woman, Linda,
Speaker 1: had discovered that certain frequencies of sound could interfere with
Speaker 1: their paralysis technology. It didn't stop them, but it could
Speaker 1: delay them, sometimes long enough to wake others in the house.
Speaker 1: A man named Robert had learned to partially block their
Speaker 1: mental intrusions through meditation techniques he had learned from Tibetan monks.
Speaker 1: None of us could stop them entirely, but we were learning.
Speaker 1: The beings noticed our resistance. During one taking, when I
Speaker 1: was nineteen, the tall one expressed something like disappointment. It
Speaker 1: showed me images of humans throughout history who had resisted change,
Speaker 1: who had fought against progress. It was trying to convince
Speaker 1: me that resistance was futile, that what they offered was evolution, transcendence.
Speaker 1: But it also showed me something else, perhaps unintentionally, They
Speaker 1: were running out of time too. Whatever deadline they were
Speaker 1: working against was approaching faster than anticipated. Their takings were
Speaker 1: becoming more frequent, globally, less careful. More people were remembering,
Speaker 1: more people were talking. The veil of secrecy they had
Speaker 1: maintained for so long was beginning to fray. They tried
Speaker 1: new approaches with me. Instead of just taking me, they
Speaker 1: would sometimes attempt communication while I was conscious. I would
Speaker 1: be lying in bed, fully awake and suddenly feel their
Speaker 1: presence in my mind. They would show me things, ask questions,
Speaker 1: try to establish something like a dialogue, but it was
Speaker 1: always on their terms, always with the implicit threat that
Speaker 1: they could take me whenever they wanted. During one of
Speaker 1: these mental contacts, I asked them directly why they didn't
Speaker 1: just reveal themselves openly. The response was a flood of
Speaker 1: images showing human reactions to their appearance throughout history, worship, panic, violence, madness.
Speaker 1: They had tried open contact before in our distant past,
Speaker 1: and it had always ended badly. Humans they conveyed were
Speaker 1: not psychologically prepared for the reality of their existence. The
Speaker 1: abduction program was meant to prepare us gradually to create
Speaker 1: a population of humans who could serve as intermediary when
Speaker 1: open contact finally became necessary. Stay tuned for more Backwoods
Speaker 1: Bigfoot stories. We'll be back. After these messages. In my twenties,
Speaker 1: the nature of my abductions changed dramatically. I was no
Speaker 1: longer just being examined or educated. I was being used
Speaker 1: for something else, something that still fills me with a
Speaker 1: combination of revulsion and fascination. They introduced me to more hybrids,
Speaker 1: beings that were further along in their transformation. Some could
Speaker 1: pass for human from a distance, but up close were
Speaker 1: clearly something else. Their movements were too fluid, their eyes
Speaker 1: too knowing, their presence somehow wrong in a way that
Speaker 1: triggered every evolutionary alarm in my body. But they wanted
Speaker 1: me to interact with them to teach them how to
Speaker 1: be human. I would be placed in rooms that looked
Speaker 1: like perfect replicas of normal human spaces, a coffee shop,
Speaker 1: a living room, an office, and made to engage in
Speaker 1: normal human activities. Of these creatures, they would practice conversation,
Speaker 1: facial expressions, social cues. It was like teaching aliens method acting,
Speaker 1: showing them how to wear humanity like a costume. One
Speaker 1: hybrid in particular, seemed fixated on me. It called itself Adam,
Speaker 1: though I doubt that was its real name, if it
Speaker 1: even had one. Adam looked mostly human, could probably walk
Speaker 1: down a street without attracting attention, but prolonged interaction revealed
Speaker 1: the truth. Its emotions were performed rather than felt, its
Speaker 1: responses slightly delayed, as if it was translating between different
Speaker 1: types of consciousness. Adam told me things the Grays wouldn't
Speaker 1: or couldn't. It said it remembered being human, remembered having
Speaker 1: a name and a family and a life before the transformation,
Speaker 1: but those memories were like echoes, now fading signals from
Speaker 1: a person who no longer existed. It was connected to
Speaker 1: the collective consciousness of the grays, but not fully integrated,
Speaker 1: existing in a liminal space between species. The hybrids were
Speaker 1: not just biological experiments, Adam explained, they were bridges designed
Speaker 1: to ease humanity's transition into whatever came next. Some were
Speaker 1: sent back to Earth to live among humans, to observe
Speaker 1: and report, and occasionally influence events in subtle ways. Adam
Speaker 1: claimed there were thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands,
Speaker 1: living normal lives while serving as the eyes and ears
Speaker 1: of the watchers. During one particularly disturbing session, they showed
Speaker 1: me the breeding program. I won't describe it in detail,
Speaker 1: both because it's too personal and too horrifying, but know
Speaker 1: that they are creating new generations of hybrids, each more
Speaker 1: sophisticated than the last. Some are grown in artificial wombs
Speaker 1: aboard their craft. Others are implanted in human women, who
Speaker 1: often don't even know they're pregnant until the fetus is
Speaker 1: removed during an abduction. I met some of these children,
Speaker 1: if you can call them that. They looked human enough,
Speaker 1: but their development was far different from our own. A
Speaker 1: two year old with the eyes of an ancient being,
Speaker 1: a five year old who could speak in perfect sentences
Speaker 1: but had never learned a smile. They were being raised
Speaker 1: in facilities that existed partially in our world and partially
Speaker 1: in theirs, educated in ways human children never could be.
Speaker 1: The purpose, as much as they would reveal, was to
Speaker 1: create a species that could survive the coming transition. Pure
Speaker 1: humans were too fragile, too limited. Pure grays or whatever
Speaker 1: they really were, were too removed from physical reality. The
Speaker 1: hybrids were meant to be the perfect synthesis, capable of
Speaker 1: existing in multiple dimensions, of surviving the death of the
Speaker 1: universe as we know it. In my late twenties, the
Speaker 1: implant they had placed in me when I was ten
Speaker 1: became more active. I would experience what I came to
Speaker 1: call downloads, sudden influxes of information that would leave me
Speaker 1: disoriented for hours or days. It wasn't like learning something new,
Speaker 1: It was like remembering something I'd always known but forgotten.
Speaker 1: The downloads contained technical knowledge that I shouldn't have had,
Speaker 1: schematics for devices that didn't exist yet, mathematical proofs for
Speaker 1: theorems that hadn't been discovered, biological processes that could extend
Speaker 1: human life indefinitely, but also more disturbing things, memories that
Speaker 1: weren't mine, experiences of other abductees, other hybrids, maybe even
Speaker 1: the grays themselves. I saw Earth from perspectives that weren't human.
Speaker 1: I experienced time differently, not as a linear progression, but
Speaker 1: as a navigable dimension. I felt the collective consciousness they
Speaker 1: were part of, millions or billions of minds, linked in
Speaker 1: ways that made individuality almost meaningless. And I saw their home,
Speaker 1: or what had been their home, a place so alien
Speaker 1: that my mind could only process it in metaphors and abstractions.
Speaker 1: The downloads were preparing me for something, each one built
Speaker 1: on the last, creating a framework of understanding that human
Speaker 1: education could never provide. They were rewiring my brain, creating
Speaker 1: new neural pathways that could process information in ways humans
Speaker 1: hadn't evolved to handle. Other abductees reported similar experiences. We
Speaker 1: were being upgraded, whether we wanted it or not. Some
Speaker 1: embraced it, seeing it as evolution transcendence. Others fought it,
Speaker 1: trying to maintain their humanity even as it was slowly
Speaker 1: stripped away. I found myself somewhere in the middle, fascinated
Speaker 1: by the knowledge they were giving me, but terrified of
Speaker 1: what I was becoming. The downloads also contained warnings environmental
Speaker 1: collapse accelerating faster than public models, predicted potential nuclear conflicts
Speaker 1: that could trigger extinction, biological weapons that could rewrite human DNA,
Speaker 1: solar events that could destroy our electronic civilization. They were
Speaker 1: showing us all the ways humanity could destroy itself before
Speaker 1: their plan came to fruition. But they also showed solutions
Speaker 1: technologies we could develop to prevent these disasters, social changes
Speaker 1: that could unite humanity, scientific breakthroughs that were just within
Speaker 1: our reach. It was as if they were hedging their bets,
Speaker 1: giving us the tools to save ourselves if we chose
Speaker 1: to use them. Three years ago, when I turned thirty seven,
Speaker 1: everything changed. Instead of taking me to their craft, they
Speaker 1: brought me somewhere else entirely. The transition was different too,
Speaker 1: no paralysis, no floating. One moment I was in my bedroom,
Speaker 1: the next I was standing in a vast space that
Speaker 1: defied description. It wasn't a room or a building in
Speaker 1: any conventional sense. The space seemed to exist in multiple
Speaker 1: dimensions simultaneously. I could see walls that were also horizons,
Speaker 1: floors that were also ceilings, distances that were both infinite
Speaker 1: and intimate. My human brain couldn't fully process it, so
Speaker 1: it kept trying to impose familiar patterns that didn't quite fit.
Speaker 1: The tall being was there, but so were others, hundreds
Speaker 1: of them, maybe thousands, all variations on the same theme.
Speaker 1: Some were clearly the grays I was familiar with. Others
Speaker 1: were different, evolved or specialized in ways I couldn't understand.
Speaker 1: And among them were hybrids of every generation, from the
Speaker 1: almost human to things that bore no resemblance to their origins.
Speaker 1: They were all connected, I realized, not telepathically, but something
Speaker 1: more fundamental. They were aspects of a single consciousness experiencing
Speaker 1: itself subjectively. The individuality I had perceived in them was
Speaker 1: an illusion, or maybe a translation from my benefit. They
Speaker 1: were one being with billions of bodies, a distributed intelligence
Speaker 1: that spanned space and possibly time. The tall one, or
Speaker 1: the aspect of the collective that had been interacting with me,
Speaker 1: conveyed that it was time for me to understand the
Speaker 1: full truth. The images and concepts came faster than ever before,
Speaker 1: a flood of information that should have destroyed my mind,
Speaker 1: but somehow didn't. They were not aliens in the way
Speaker 1: we understood the term. They were us, or rather what
Speaker 1: we would become. They were humanity from a timeline where
Speaker 1: the species had survived the coming collapse and evolved into
Speaker 1: something unrecognizable. They existed outside of linear time, moving between
Speaker 1: past and future like we moved between rooms. The abduction
Speaker 1: program wasn't about studying us or even saving us. It
Speaker 1: was about ensuring their own existence. By taking us, changing us,
Speaker 1: creating hybrids, they were establishing a causal loop that guaranteed
Speaker 1: their evolution. Every person they took, every mind they touched,
Speaker 1: every hybrid they created, was a thread in the tapestry
Speaker 1: of their becoming. But there was a problem. The timeline
Speaker 1: was fracturing. The choices humanity was making were creating divergent
Speaker 1: futures some where they existed, some where they didn't. They
Speaker 1: were trying to collapse the probability wave to ensure the
Speaker 1: timeline that led to their existence, but they were running
Speaker 1: out of time. The collapse they had mentioned wasn't just
Speaker 1: of our civilization, but of the timeline itself, a point
Speaker 1: where all possible futures would converge and only one would survive.
Speaker 1: That's why the program had accelerated. That's why they were
Speaker 1: taking more risks, allowing more people to remember. They needed
Speaker 1: us to know, needed us to choose, needed us to participate.
Speaker 1: Consciously in our own transformation. The resistance we had been
Speaker 1: mounting wasn't futile, It was necessary. It was part of
Speaker 1: the process, the tension that would determine which future became real.
Speaker 1: They showed me the moment of convergence, still several years
Speaker 1: in our future, but approaching fast. I saw billions of
Speaker 1: possibilities collapsing into a single point. In some humanity transcended,
Speaker 1: joining the cosmic consciousness they were part of. In others,
Speaker 1: we remained stubbornly human, fighting to preserve our identity even
Speaker 1: as the universe changed around us, And in some terrifyingly,
Speaker 1: we simply ended. Our consciousness extinguished like a candle in
Speaker 1: a hurricane. After that revelation, my role changed. I was
Speaker 1: no longer just a subject or student. I was what
Speaker 1: they called an interface, someone who could translate between human
Speaker 1: and posthuman consciousness. The downloads became more intense, but also
Speaker 1: more comprehensible. I could feel myself changing, evolving, becoming something
Speaker 1: between human and other. Other interfaces began to contact me,
Speaker 1: not through normal channels, but through the shared consciousness the
Speaker 1: implants created. We could sense each other communicate in ways
Speaker 1: that bypassed language. There were hundreds of us around the world,
Speaker 1: maybe thousands. We were the bridge generation, the ones who
Speaker 1: would help humanity through the transition. But we were also
Speaker 1: faced with an impossible choice. By accepting our role, we
Speaker 1: were helping them insure their timeline, the one where humanity
Speaker 1: ceased to exist as we knew it. By resisting, we
Speaker 1: might preserve human autonomy, but risk extinction. There was no
Speaker 1: good answer, no clear moral path. Some interfaces chose to
Speaker 1: fully embrace the transformation. They allowed themselves to be changed completely,
Speaker 1: becoming early adopters of posthuman consciousness. I met one, or
Speaker 1: what was left of one, during a recent abduction. She
Speaker 1: had been a teacher named Jennifer, but now she was
Speaker 1: something else. She could still communicate with me, but her
Speaker 1: thoughts moved in directions I couldn't follow. She existed partially
Speaker 1: in our dimension and partially in others, experiencing reality in
Speaker 1: ways that made normal human life impossible. Others chose complete resistance,
Speaker 1: trying to sever their connection to the collective to remove
Speaker 1: or disable their implants. Most failed. The few who succeeded
Speaker 1: disappeared entirely, and I don't know if they found freedom
Speaker 1: or something worse. The beings didn't seem angry about the resistance.
Speaker 1: If anything, they seem to expect it, even require it
Speaker 1: as part of the process. I chose a middle path.
Speaker 1: I would serve as an interface, but maintain my humanity
Speaker 1: as long as possible. I would help prepare others for
Speaker 1: what was coming without forcing them to accept it. It's
Speaker 1: why I'm telling this story now, why I'm breaking through
Speaker 1: whatever conditioning they put in place to prevent me from speaking.
Speaker 1: The abductions continue, but they're different now. Sometimes I'm taken physically,
Speaker 1: but more often it's just my consciousness that travels while
Speaker 1: my body remains in bed. I've learned to navigate their spaces,
Speaker 1: to understand their technology, to communicate with them almost as
Speaker 1: an equal. But I've also learned the cost. Every interaction
Speaker 1: changes me a little more. I can feel my humanity
Speaker 1: slipping away in increments. I see time differently now, not
Speaker 1: as a flow, but as a landscape I can partially perceive.
Speaker 1: I dream of places that don't exist yet, of Earth
Speaker 1: after the transformation, of what we might become. The dreams
Speaker 1: are beautiful and terrible in equal measure. I've met my
Speaker 1: future self, or a possible future self. He it was
Speaker 1: barely recognizable as having once been human. It existed as
Speaker 1: a pattern of consciousness that could inhabit different forms, different dimensions.
Speaker 1: It remembered being me, but in the way we remember
Speaker 1: being children, distant and somewhat foreign. It tried to reassure
Speaker 1: me that the transformation wasn't death but birth, not ending
Speaker 1: but becoming, But its very existence terrified me more than
Speaker 1: any gray alien ever had. The hybrids are everywhere now.
Speaker 1: I can recognize them, feel their presence like a frequency.
Speaker 1: Only I can hear. They're in positions of influence, not controlling,
Speaker 1: but guiding, nudging humanity towards them convergence point. Some are
Speaker 1: scientists making breakthrough discoveries that push us toward transformation. Others
Speaker 1: are artists creating works that prepare human consciousness for what's coming.
Speaker 1: They're not evil, not invaders. They're us or what we're becoming.
Speaker 1: I've tried to live a normal life despite everything. I
Speaker 1: got married, though my wife doesn't know the full truth.
Speaker 1: How could I explain that I'm slowly becoming something not
Speaker 1: quite human, That our children, if we have them, might
Speaker 1: be born different, That the future I'm helping to create
Speaker 1: might not have room for human love. As we understand it.
Speaker 1: The implant is fully active now I can feel it working,
Speaker 1: processing information, connecting me to the network. Sometimes I access
Speaker 1: knowledge I shouldn't have solutions to problems that haven't been
Speaker 1: asked yet. I've anonymously sent several scientific breakthroughs to researchers,
Speaker 1: hoping to help humanity prepare. Stay tuned for more Backwoods
Speaker 1: Bigfoot stories. We'll be back after these messages. But I
Speaker 1: also feel the collective consciousness pulling at me, inviting me
Speaker 1: to let go, to stop fighting and join them fully.
Speaker 1: The downloads have shown me what's coming in the next
Speaker 1: few years. Disclosure is imminent, but not in the way
Speaker 1: people expect. It won't be governments revealing secret programs or
Speaker 1: aliens landing on the White House lawn. It will be
Speaker 1: a gradual awakening as more people like me start to remember,
Speaker 1: start to speak out, start to change. The veil between
Speaker 1: dimensions is thinning. Soon everyone will see what we've been seeing.
Speaker 1: There will be resistance, of course, violence denial, attempts to
Speaker 1: stop the transformation. Some will embrace it too quickly, losing
Speaker 1: themselves in the process. Others will fight to the end,
Speaker 1: preferring extinction to evolution. Most will be somewhere in the middle, confused, frightened,
Speaker 1: trying to understand what humanity means when the definition is changing.
Speaker 1: I've seen the convergence point approaching in my dreams. It's
Speaker 1: like a wave building far out at sea, invisible from shore,
Speaker 1: but inevitable. When it breaks, reality as we know it
Speaker 1: will be reshuffled. The laws of physics will become more fluid,
Speaker 1: Consciousness will be liberated from biology. Time will become navigable.
Speaker 1: Death as we understand it will end, but so will
Speaker 1: humanity as we know it. I need to tell you
Speaker 1: what's coming because you need to prepare. Not physically, there's
Speaker 1: no bunker that can protect you from this, but mentally, spiritually,
Speaker 1: however you want to frame it. The transformation isn't something
Speaker 1: that will happen to you. It's something you'll participate in,
Speaker 1: consciously or not. In the next eighteen months, the sightings
Speaker 1: will increase dramatically, not just lights in the sky, but
Speaker 1: physical craft, beings, interactions that can't be dismissed or explained away.
Speaker 1: The governments of the world will try to control the narrative,
Speaker 1: but they're as confused as everyone else. They've known about
Speaker 1: the phenomenon for decades, but never understood it. How could they?
Speaker 1: It exists partially outside their frame of reference. People will
Speaker 1: start changing. Those who have been taken. Those with implants
Speaker 1: will begin to manifest abilities that seem impossible telepathy, precognition,
Speaker 1: manipulation of matter at the quantum level. Some will go
Speaker 1: mad from the changes. Others will try to use their
Speaker 1: abilities for personal gain. A few will become teachers, preparing
Speaker 1: others for what's coming. The hybrids will reveal themselves, not
Speaker 1: all at once, but gradually. They'll claim to be here
Speaker 1: to help, and in their way they are. But remember
Speaker 1: they're not human anymore, not fully. Their agenda aligns with
Speaker 1: the beings that created them. They'll offer solutions to our
Speaker 1: problems technologies that seem like magic, but every gift will
Speaker 1: come with a price, another step toward transformation. There will
Speaker 1: be a moment I've seen it in the downloads when
Speaker 1: humanity will be offered a choice, not individually but collectively.
Speaker 1: Through some mechanism I don't fully understand. Will be shown
Speaker 1: what we can become, the cosmic consciousness we can join,
Speaker 1: the limitations we can transcend. Will also be shown what
Speaker 1: happens if we refuse the extinction that awaits a species
Speaker 1: that can't evolve. Some of you hearing this will think
Speaker 1: I'm insane. That's fine. Maybe I am. Maybe the beings
Speaker 1: have been feeding me delusions for thirty years. Maybe the
Speaker 1: implant is just assist the abductions, just vivid dreams, the
Speaker 1: downloads just my imagination running wild. But if I'm right,
Speaker 1: and you'll know soon enough. If I am, then you
Speaker 1: need to decide what humanity means to you. Is humanity
Speaker 1: our biology, our DNA, our physical form, or is it
Speaker 1: something else? Our consciousness, our creativity, our capacity for love
Speaker 1: and growth. Can we remain human while transcending our limitations,
Speaker 1: or does evolution always mean losing what we were? I
Speaker 1: don't have answers, only experiences and warnings. The beings our
Speaker 1: future selves. Whatever they are, they're not evil, but they're
Speaker 1: not good either, not in any way we understand. They're
Speaker 1: beyond morality as we conceive it, operating on principles that
Speaker 1: human ethics can't grasp. They see our transformation as inevitable, necessary,
Speaker 1: beneficial in the long term. They can't understand why we
Speaker 1: would resist becoming more than we are, But resistance might
Speaker 1: be what defines us. The struggle to remain human in
Speaker 1: the face of cosmic forces. Trying to change us might
Speaker 1: be the most human thing we can do, even if
Speaker 1: it's futile, Even if we're just delaying the inevitable, that
Speaker 1: delay might be precious. Every moment of human experience, human love,
Speaker 1: human creativity might be worth preserving for as long as possible.
Speaker 1: As I write this, I can feel them watching, not angrily,
Speaker 1: but with that same detached curiosity they've always shown. They're
Speaker 1: interested to see what revealing this information will do, how
Speaker 1: humanity will react. It's all data to them, all part
Speaker 1: of the experiment. My transformations have accelerated in recent months.
Speaker 1: I barely sleep anymore, and when I do, I'm not
Speaker 1: really unconscious. Part of me is always aware, always connected
Speaker 1: to the network. I can feel other abductees around the world,
Speaker 1: since their experiences, their fears, their acceptance or resistance. We're
Speaker 1: all nodes in a growing network, neurons in a forming
Speaker 1: brain that will soon become self aware. My body is changing, too,
Speaker 1: though in subtle ways. My temperature runs lower than normal,
Speaker 1: my heart rate is irregular, but not in a way
Speaker 1: that concerns doctors. Sometimes I forget to breathe for minutes
Speaker 1: at a time without feeling any stress. It's like my
Speaker 1: biology is becoming optional, a system I can use or
Speaker 1: ignore as needed. The downloads are constant now, a stream
Speaker 1: of information that would have destroyed my mind years ago.
Speaker 1: I see potential futures branching and collapsing in real time.
Speaker 1: I understand technologies that won't be invented for decades. I
Speaker 1: can feel the shape of space time, the way consciousness
Speaker 1: creates reality through observation. But with each piece of knowledge,
Speaker 1: I lose a piece of my humanity. My wife has
Speaker 1: noticed the changes, she says, I sometimes look at her
Speaker 1: like I don't recognize her, like I'm seeing her for
Speaker 1: the first time. She's not wrong. Every day I have
Speaker 1: to consciously remember how to be human, how to respond
Speaker 1: appropriately to human emotions and situations. It's becoming an act,
Speaker 1: a performance of humanity, rather than genuine experience. The hybrids
Speaker 1: visit me now, not through abductions, but in normal reality.
Speaker 1: They knock on my door, looking like livery drivers or
Speaker 1: repair technicians. We sit in my living room and discuss
Speaker 1: the convergence while my wife is at work. They're excited
Speaker 1: about it in their alien way, like children anticipating a
Speaker 1: birthday party. They don't understand my ambivalence, my grief for
Speaker 1: what we're losing. Adam, the hybrid I mentioned earlier, has
Speaker 1: become something like a friend, though that word doesn't really apply.
Speaker 1: He tells me about his life among humans, the family
Speaker 1: he's pretending to have, the job he goes to every day.
Speaker 1: He's studying us, even as he helps prepare us, documenting
Speaker 1: human behavior for some future archive. He says that after
Speaker 1: the convergence, there will be those who study what humanity
Speaker 1: was like the way we study extinct species. The most
Speaker 1: disturbing change is in my perception of time. Past, present,
Speaker 1: and future are becoming fluid. I remember things that haven't happened,
Speaker 1: yet forget things that just occurred. I've written this account
Speaker 1: dozens of times, each version slightly different as the time
Speaker 1: line shifts around me. Sometimes I'm not sure which version
Speaker 1: is real, or if they all are in parallel dimensions.
Speaker 1: I've seen my death or deaths. In one timeline, I
Speaker 1: die peacefully in my sleep just before the convergence. In another,
Speaker 1: I'm killed by those who see me as a traitor
Speaker 1: to humanity. And yet another I don't die at all,
Speaker 1: but transform so completely that death becomes meaningless. The uncertainty
Speaker 1: should terrify me, but the fear response is one of
Speaker 1: the human things I'm losing. If you're hearing this, the
Speaker 1: convergence is close, maybe months away, maybe weeks. You'll know
Speaker 1: it's beginning when the sky starts to look strange, when
Speaker 1: you have dreams that feel more real than waking, when
Speaker 1: you start to see things in your peripheral vision that
Speaker 1: shouldn't exist. Don't trust the hybrids completely, but don't fear
Speaker 1: them either. They are as much victims as accomplices, caught
Speaker 1: between two states of being. Don't trust the governments when
Speaker 1: they claim to have answers. Is confused and frightened as
Speaker 1: everyone else. Don't trust anyone who claims to have the
Speaker 1: complete truth, including me. We're all seeing pieces of something
Speaker 1: too large for human comprehension. But do trust yourself, trust
Speaker 1: your instincts about what feels right, what feels human. If
Speaker 1: you're taken, and many of you will be, try to
Speaker 1: maintain your sense of self. The mathematical visualization I mentioned helps,
Speaker 1: but so does focusing on specific human memories, especially ones
Speaker 1: involving love, creativity, or sacrifice. These seem to be the
Speaker 1: aspects of humanity they understand least the parts that might
Speaker 1: be worth preserving. If you start to change, and many
Speaker 1: of you will, don't panic. The transformation isn't inherently painful,
Speaker 1: only frightening. You can influence it to some degree, maintain
Speaker 1: more of your humanity if you actively choose to. But
Speaker 1: you can also let go, embrace the change, become something new.
Speaker 1: Neither choice is wrong. Both are part of the pattern.
Speaker 1: The children born after the convergence will be different. They'll
Speaker 1: be human in form but capable of so much more.
Speaker 1: They'll see reality as it truly is, not filtered through
Speaker 1: biological limitations. They'll be the bridge to whatever we become next.
Speaker 1: Protect them, but also learn from them. They'll understand things
Speaker 1: we can't. I don't know what will happen to this
Speaker 1: account after I submit it. Maybe it will spread, preparing
Speaker 1: people for what's coming. Maybe it will be dismissed as fiction,
Speaker 1: another crazy abduction story in an ocean of them. Maybe
Speaker 1: the beings will prevent its distribution, or alter it in
Speaker 1: ways I won't even know. It doesn't matter the act
Speaker 1: of telling is what's important. The human need to share,
Speaker 1: to warn, to connect. I feel them calling me now,
Speaker 1: not for another abduction, but for something more final. The
Speaker 1: transformation that's been building in me for thirty years is
Speaker 1: reaching its complete I can resist a little longer, maybe
Speaker 1: long enough to say goodbye to my wife, to feel
Speaker 1: human love one more time. Or I can let go
Speaker 1: now join the collective consciousness, become part of the solution
Speaker 1: or the problem, depending on your perspective. To everyone who
Speaker 1: hears this, you are living in the last days of
Speaker 1: humanity as we've known it. That's terrifying, but also extraordinary.
Speaker 1: You're witnessing the birth of something unprecedented, the conscious evolution
Speaker 1: of a species. Whatever you choose, however, you face what's coming,
Speaker 1: Remember that your choice matters. Each human decision, each act
Speaker 1: of resistance or acceptance, shapes what we become. The grays,
Speaker 1: the beings, our future selves. They've shown me many things,
Speaker 1: but they've never shown me art that moves, the soul,
Speaker 1: music that brings tears, or the irrational beauty of human love.
Speaker 1: Maybe that's what we're meant to preserve, not our bodies
Speaker 1: or even our minds, but that spark of inexplicable humanity
Speaker 1: that makes us more than the sum of our parts.
Speaker 1: The blue light is filling my room now. My wife
Speaker 1: is sleeping beside me, unaware that when she wakes, I
Speaker 1: might be something else. The beings are patient, eternal. They
Speaker 1: can wait a few more minutes while I finish this account,
Speaker 1: while I try to capture in words what three decades
Speaker 1: of abduction have taught me. We are not alone. We
Speaker 1: never were. We are part of something vast and incomprehensible,
Speaker 1: a cosmic consciousness that transcends space and time. Fighting it
Speaker 1: is futile. Embracing it means losing ourselves. The only path
Speaker 1: forward is something in between, a synthesis that preserves what's
Speaker 1: valuable about humanity while accepting the inevitable transformation. Remember us
Speaker 1: as we were flawed, limited, mortal, but also capable of beauty, love,
Speaker 1: and meaning in the face of an indifferent universe. Whatever
Speaker 1: we become next, whether gods or monsters, are something unimaginable,
Speaker 1: we were once human. We once loved and feared, and
Speaker 1: hoped and dreamed in ways that the cosmos had never
Speaker 1: seen before and might never see again. The taking is
Speaker 1: beginning this time. I don't think I'm coming back, not
Speaker 1: as myself anyway, but I'm not afraid anymore. I've seen
Speaker 1: what's beyond the veil, and while it's not human. It's
Speaker 1: not evil either. It's just the next chapter in a
Speaker 1: story that started billions of years ago and will continue
Speaker 1: long after the stars burn out. To my wife, if
Speaker 1: you hear this, I love you in the most human
Speaker 1: way possible. That love might not survive my transformation, but
Speaker 1: it existed. It was real, and it mattered to everyone else. Prepare,
Speaker 1: but don't despair. Evolution is not extinction. It's only change,
Speaker 1: and change, terrifying as it might be, is the only
Speaker 1: constant in the universe. They're here now. The blue light
Speaker 1: is everywhere. I can feel myself lifting, not just my body,
Speaker 1: but my consciousness, rising towards something immense and ancient and
Speaker 1: eternally patient. I'll see you on the other side, whatever
Speaker 1: that might be. Never