Out of Time by Andrew Scorah (books to read in your 20s .txt) 📖

OUT OF TIME

by Andy Scorah

He called it slow time. That period between the start of an experiment and the finding out its results. For Ben Sheppard, time seemed to slow down during these periods. Hence, the name he gave it. He was passing his slow time, as usual, standing at the cliff’s edge, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean, found at the end of the Coast Artillery road. There, behind him, the behemoth Delta-T Sage radar arose like some mystical beast above the forest. Yet, this parking lot was his retreat. After the experiments had started, there was no need for his presence. Or so he thought.

Ben had been at Camp Hero " a disused Air Force Station five miles away from the small town of Montauk, in upstate New York " for the better part of a year now. Camp Hero was built during the Cold War to look like a fishing village in the Hamptons. And, because of so, it became a destination for the rich and shameless in the summer months after its construction. In 1969, as the story goes, Camp Hero Air Force Station was “closed down” and handed over to the National Park Service. However, the reality of the situation is more conspiracy than theory, because, for those who know, there is no better place to hide a secret than in plain sight.

For instance, fantastic things had been accomplished at Camp Hero while it was in operation; like the continuation of various experiments that had started inside of Nazi concentration camps. Certain experiments had been redefined at Camp Hero before ’69, hence its name. Gigantic steps had been taken in population control through amplified microwave technology and Psychotronic mind manipulation. Also during that time is when they had learned how to create super soldiers through an intense series of mind-altering experiments, collectively known as MK-Ultra. The survivors of MK-Ultra conditioning became men and women far stronger and much more intelligent than any batch of grunts could ever aspire to be. They went in normal children and came out robotic assassins, undetectable spies, or any kind of super soldier they had wanted, they could make. And, now, they had the Chair " a donation from their true masters " that moved the experiments from the realm of satanic torture to that of pseudo-sorcery.

Today’s experiment, for example, was a continuation of a psychic enhancement program that started a month ago as a joke to materialize a bottle, specifically, of Budweiser upon the Colonel’s desk. Cameron Bielek, the resident psychic, made that very bottle appear for a minute at the destine spot by focusing all of his mental energy on said bottle, projected that focused energy across the Station into the Colonel’s office; all because Preston Moon dared Cameron to try it.

It started just like that, as a game. That is, until the Colonel came stumbling into the Room, gasping about a disappearing bottle he had unconsciously drank. It would seem that Cameron’s focus was great enough to influence the Colonel’s acknowledgment of an imaginary bottle through the thirst reflex. Or so was Ben Sheppard’s prognosis.

And, nnow, they were utilizing the Chair, given to them last week by the Cadzinn " a ‘friendly’ off world race, known as the Greys, who had visited Earth for centuries " who watched over, and on the odd occasion, helped humanity along. Ben did not fully understand not trust the Cadzinn’s motives. Yet, he had no choice but to work alongside them. Again and again, as he already did. Obviously, he was in these experiments too deep to pullout of them. No one can get into this line of work, he thought bleakly, while watching a seagull soar above the ocean below, then pullout like a porn star, and hope to live....

The Chair’s primary function, designated as a “psychic amplifier,” and was wired up to a Riken 10000 supercomputer---a beast of a machine---and one of only two in existence. The combination of the Chair and Riken took a person’s psychic energy, collected by the Chair, and enhanced it, or amplified it, to theoretically the most powerful “weapon” known to humanity: a focused mind. The Riken was a massive array setup in a two-mile round ‘collider tunnel’ and cryogenically cooled during operation. This allowed the massive amount of energy it built up to flow freely throughout its structure, making sure it did not overheat and melt Camp Hero down into a pool of molten slag.

Ben’s thoughts about the Chair and its power coupling were interrupted by the sound of a jeep pulling up behind him. He turned and saw Master Sergeant Duncan Pharrel pull to a halt.

Through a cupped hand, Master Sergeant Pharrel yelled, “Mr. Sheppard, sir, you’re required back at the lab, sir!”

Ben turned toward the jeep and walked across the parking lot. “Results already, Duncan? That’s great!” he said, as he jumping into the passenger’s seat.

Master Sergeant Pharrel, with an anxious glance, answered, “Uh.... Kind of, sir…. You, err, uhm, gotta’ see it to believe it!”

With a half-cocked smile, Ben said, “From what I’ve seen these past few months, Duncan, I’m ready to believe anything!”

As the jeep pulled away from the cliff’s edge, Ben became aware that his slow time passed rather quickly today. He smiled to himself, and commented to Sergeant Master Pharrel, “So you saw the results, huh?”

“W-w-well,” he stammered, a dull blur of trees passing behind his clean-shaven profile. “Yeah, I did. But I think it’s best for you to see it for yourself, sir.”

“It, huh?”

The dead ominous air that permeated the base was somehow less gloomy around HQ, which was housed down a ways from the radar tower where the Chair and the Room sat in its subbasement, and the Sage radar towered above it all.

Parking in front of HQ, Master Sergeant Pharrel escorted Ben into Colonel Eichen’s office.

Colonel Eichen was a stout man in his late 40’s, had with a squared full head of white hair, and he was a man good enough to keep a secret. He was hunched over a group of papers and photos that covered his desk. When Ben was introduced to the room, he took notice of a curious item that stood out among the mess. Is that a Snick"

“Ah, Sheppard, there you are,” said the Colonel with a look of displease. And, without offering Ben a seat, he continued saying, “We have no idea how you figured out that the Cadzinn like these here Snicker’s bars, but I’ll be damned, my boy, if we don’t have them working for peanuts now! And it’s about time too, after all we lost in that damned Dulce War with their cronies!”

“Sir?”

“Never mind that, soldier. That is all.”

Master Sergeant Duncan Pharrel saluted, “Sir, yes, sir!” and promptly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Colonel Eichen sat back in his chair, ran a thick hand through his shock of white hair, looked up at Ben standing there. Then he looked back at the mess on his desk before he returning his attention back to Ben. “You know, Sheppard, I really didn’t want you on this team. Hell, I still think you’re flaky at best.” The Colonel looked down at the Snickers bar on his desk. He picked it up between thumb and forefinger and started to rotate it, thumping it on end after end. “But, then, after negotiations to finally get the Chair lent to us, you make this fluke encounter with a Cadzinn and your break-time snack ... ” The Colonel sighed, set the Snickers bar down, and began to tidy up his desk.

Ben rolled his eyes and coughed into his hand. Then he said, “They seem to love them, sir. The Snickers bars, I mean. After all, they sold us the Chair in for only twenty boxes!” ... plus 10 cases of coffee, and 15 cases of hot chocolate; but no mention of that needed to be made. Ben was imaging the first time he had given coffee to a Cadzinn.... Just one sip and the grey skinned, bug-eyed, off-worlder was roaring drunk in two minutes flat. Then it stayed that way for three days! It was a nightmare having to hide it from base security during its most roaring of moments. As for the hot chocolate, well, that had been more embarrassing.... “Care for a steaming mug of alien Viagra?” the men asked each other now.

“Astounding,” Eichen said, putting his papers in order, and shaking Ben from his own thoughts, “as that may be, Sheppard, that is not why I called you here.

Ben waited patient as can be to hear what “it” was that his work had resulted in.

“I wanted to let you know that we have received clearance for the extra funding we requested because of your ‘psychological discovery’.” Grudgingly, and without looking up from his papers, the Colonel added, “And the higher-ups wanted me to let you know that you can have all the extra staff you requested.... Maybe more if you keep it up.”

Doing his best to look surprised, Ben wasn’t sure if he was pulling it off right. Then again, the Colonel was nose deep in his papers and didn’t look up. Ben snorted, and said, “Thank you, sir. I would like Prof. Blake, from Brookhaven National Laboratories, to come and join us, sir.”

“Consider it done, Sheppard. Consider it done.” He looked up at Ben. “Is that all?” Ben looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head negative. “Very well then, Sheppard. Very well. You may go now.” Eichen waved a hand in dismissal and looked satisfied with ordering his papers. He took a pen out of its holder on his desk and began to write a note.

“Thank you, sir.” Ben said, then turned and exited the room. And fuck you very much. He hated these weekly summonses to the base commander, who didn’t have any real power over him. He also hated calling Eichen ‘sir’, as well, even though he was used to it already. They had banged heads in the past, when Ben was in the army he served under the Eichen up at HAARP, located in Gakona, Alaska, before he transferred out to Brookhaven Labs to work in the Psychotronics department alongside Professor Stuart Blake. Although the work was military in nature and application, Ben was rated a civilian after transfer. It was great the way it worked! No more red tape, but a few lengths of orange instead. He worked at Brookhaven for two years before he received the call that changed everything. “Ben!” the caller said, full of excitement. “Drive up to Camp Hero and join the team, man! You can lead our Psychic program here! Just think about it....” Little did he know what he was transferring to. And the rest, as they say, is esoteric history.

Time for me to check on the children, Ben thought to himself, as he exited out of HQ and headed across base to the radar tower. Even though a stale, dead air permeated the base, especially inside of the radar tower itself, Ben always got a special feeling from being in the area. Other than it being a professional endeavour for him, it was a spiritual hig. And like anybody who has felt that joyful spiritual high, Ben needed his daily fix. Again.

When he entered the control room he was greeted by Billy Joe Clanton’s hands wrapped round the throat of Steve Jones --