The Futurians

The Futurians

By

Jennifer Devlin

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. She, however, could still hear her own screams echoing in her head, as she woke with a start, her throat raw and throbbing.

She was still completely immobilized by the fine mesh that anchored her body to the metal table. The lights were gone and the only light remaining came from the stars and other celestial bodies visible through the narrow porthole.

The beings were gone as well and she searched her memories to clear the fog and determine if she was trapped in a dream or in a horrible reality. Her memories fought to the surface and she shuddered uncontrollably as the scene flooded back.

Five of them standing over her. Oversized heads with gray, hairless, childlike bodies. Eyes that were huge and unblinking. And the long narrow fingers – fingers that had done unspeakable things to her body.

She had no sense of the passage of time. She could have been here for hours or for days. Her memories of how she was taken were foggy.

She recalled running along a wooded path. That’s right – she’d been at the cabin – spending a few days in isolation after covering her second mass shooting story in several weeks. A rising journalist at the Daily Herald in Connecticut, she knew better than to let her emotions show but the crime scene photos showing what an AR15 can do to little bodies were more than she could bear. She had retreated to her parents’ cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountain foothills to escape the horror.

She’d gone jogging in the late afternoon and as twilight came down, she remembered a light from above. Looking up through the canopy of trees, she saw a circular row of red and blue lights. They swirled and beckoned and soon she felt her body rising up and then unconsciousness overtook her until she had woken up in this room, unclothed, immobilized and terrified.

She cast her senses over her bruised and aching body. She could feel sharp pain on either side of her abdomen and remembered the needles piercing her skin simultaneously, probing, as the horrifying faces hovered above her. And that’s when the screaming had started.

She wondered how long she had been out. She cast her fears aside and explored what little mobility she had. The mesh covered her from head to toe but the open weave allowed her to breathe through it and to shift her vision slightly from right to left. Her fingers had a small range of motion, also side to side, but no matter the amount of effort she exerted she could not rise from the table nor lift her head or limbs upwards.

She took the time to take stock of her what limited visibility her eyes afforded her. Peering through the mesh, she saw the ceiling medallion from which a large light and long robotic arms had descended. It was closed now with no sign of the instruments that had snaked down earlier.

The walls of the room curved downward, giving the impression of lying inside the belly of some horrible, impossible beast. There were no signs of a door, just the very small porthole just within her range of vision. She peered out at the stars trying to make sense of the constellations as if that might give her a clue of where she was.

Suddenly a seam appeared in the wall to her right. It travelled up and across and down and became an aperture that slid to one side making way for three of the creatures. Her heart dropped immediately.

They made no sound as they moved to stand over her. Their faces remained expressionless, yet she had the sense that they were communicating, perhaps telepathically. She tried to reason with them with a misguided hope that they would understand her.

“Please don’t do this. Please, I beg you. My name is Jessica Evans. I have a family and just want to go home. Can you understand me? Please, please….”

As she struggled and continue to plead, she saw the medallion above spiral open and the light blinded her so she could not see the snakelike arms with razor sharp projections as they descended toward her. As before, she felt the probes pierce her flesh low on her abdomen and the bile rose in her throat as she began to scream again.

She woke up on the forest floor. The sun sparkled through the leaves and small twigs and leaves had worked their way into her hair. She sat up gingerly, wincing as the pain from her abdominal wounds sharpened across her midsection. She barely remembered limping back to the cabin where she fell into a dreamless sleep still covered in the debris of the forest.

When she awoke, she made her way to the shower. As she washed the dirt from her body, she examined the wounds on her abdomen. There appeared to be two small crescent-shaped marks about two inches from her navel on either side. They were not bleeding or oozing and appeared to be healing rapidly. She felt considerable cramping when she moved, worse than but similar to menstrual cramps.

After her shower, she made a quick meal of eggs and toast and considered her options. Her computer told her it was four days since she had gone out for a jog. There were no messages on her phone, but she had told her family and friends that she needed time to herself. She considered going to the authorities but couldn’t imagine how she would describe her experience.

As she pondered her dilemma, her journalistic instincts kicked in and she wondered if there had been any other incidents of alien abduction in this area. She opened her laptop and typed into the search engine “alien abduction” and “northeastern U.S.” She pulled a pad of paper and pen to her and began taking notes:

• September 19, 1961 – Betty and Barney Hill of Portsmouth, New Hampshire had been abducted while driving through New Hampshire’s White Mountain. They only recalled the incident after hypnosis, which they underwent in the aftermath of nightmares and anxiety. Their recovered memories outlined being taken into a ship, separated into different rooms, and examined physically by strange beings. Betty described being probed by long needles inserted into her uterus as a painful pregnancy test.

• September 1, 1969 – Numerous residents of Berkshire County, Massachusetts report seeing a UFO above the town. The Reed family, including the grandmother, mother and two children, were driving home that night and stopped on Sheffield Bridge. They later woke up in different seats of the car and reported that they had no knowledge of two hours that had passed.

• October 11, 1973 – Charles Hickson and Calvin Parker, Jr. were abducted while fishing off a pier in the Pascagoula River in Mississippi. They described being paralyzed but conscious as they were taken aboard a strange craft and subjected to internal examinations.

• 1980 – Twins Audrey and Debbie Hewins from Oxford, Maine were four years old the first time they were visited by aliens. They describe multiple experiences, including abduction, and now run a support group for survivors of alien abduction.

• December 26, 1985 – Whitley Strieber is visiting his cabin with his family in upstate New York when he experiences an abduction. He is awakened by a creature in his bedroom and then transported to a ship where three beings carry out experiments, including one that involved a needle inserted into his brain. These memories are only recovered after hypnosis. He chronicled his experiences in a best-selling novel called Communion.

In every one of these accounts, there were striking similarities. The aliens were all described as grey in color, with large, slanted eyes, no hair, small bodies and long arms. In fact, many survivors used the term “Greys” to describe the alien visitors. Even more disturbing, almost all of the survivor accounts include descriptions of “experiments,” many focused on sexual organs.

Given the similarity of accounts, Jessica wondered if there was any research that focused on alien abductions. She came across a 2003 study from researchers at Harvard University. The researchers interviewed ten individuals, both men and women, with accounts of abduction. The interviews were conducted while awake and under hypnosis. Seven of the ten reported having sexual experiments, including extraction of their eggs or sperm. Each of the abductees provided a written script of their abductions, which were then read back to them. Listening to the accounts invoked strong physical and emotional reactions, similar to those experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). While the researchers believed that these individuals had experienced emotional trauma, they chalked it up to sleep paralysis and other psychoses. In fact, alien abduction accounts were routinely branded by authorities and scientists as hoaxes or hallucinations not to be taken seriously.

As she packed her bags, she knew she had to find more answers. And she knew the place to start looking was Washington, D.C.

Her brother Josh Evans was a lieutenant serving as the chief information officer for the Secretary of the Air Force, stationed out of the Pentagon. He oversaw Air Force IT operations, policies, and communications. She called him as she drove the ninety miles to Virginia to set up a time to meet. By 5pm that same day, she was navigating security at the visitor’s entrance to the Pentagon. Josh met her at the magnetometers and ushered her to his office in one of the inner rings of the Pentagon. As they navigated the long hallways, she marveled at the fact that the Pentagon was still the world’s largest office building with 6.5 million square feet of floor space, much of it underground and hidden from the outside world.

She wasn’t ready yet to share her experience so she simply told Josh she was working on a story about a recent UFO sighting by a Navy pilot off the coast of California.

“We don’t call them UFOs anymore,” corrected Josh. “The military term is now UAP, which stands for unidentified aerial phenomena. In fact, the Department of Defense just held a briefing for Congress at their request because we have seen a serious uptick in sightings in recent months.”

“What is causing the uptick?”

“We’re not sure. Navy intelligence has identified 400 incidents this year alone, more than double what was reported last year. The fact that so many are centered around military assets has both Congress and the Defense Department concerned. So concerned, in fact, that we just launched a new office to study this. It’s being formed under the Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Intelligence and Security and is known as the All-domain Anomaly Resolution Office, or AARO.”

“Can you get me in to see someone associated with that office,” she asked.

“Not sure,” he replied. “Their work is still considered top secret and they report directly to the Director of National Intelligence, given the security concerns around these incidents.”

“I might have some information to share, given the story I’ve been assigned. See if you can get me a meeting and I’ll take it from there.”

“OK, sis. Give me a couple of days and I’ll see what I can swing.”

As Jessica made the six-hour drive back to New Haven, her thoughts swirled. What would happen if she came forward with her story. Would she be mocked? Ridiculed? And as a journalist taught to follow the facts, what proof could she have to offer that her claims were real? She bore the scars of her encounter, but what story would they tell? She knew she needed more answers.

The next day she scheduled an appointment with her OB-GYN for a routine pelvic exam. When her doctor saw the marks on her abdomen, she looked questioningly at Jessica.

“It’s nothing,” she stammered. “I took a spill while mountain biking into a tree and got scratched by branches. It’s already healing up.”

After the exam, the doctor reviewed her findings. “Everything looks good, except for some swelling of the ovaries. You are ovulating right now, so that is considered normal, but the swelling is more than what I would expect. We should keep an eye on that.”

As she left the doctor’s office, Jessica couldn’t stop thinking about the claims of other survivors that the experiments were sexual and included extraction of eggs and sperm. Could that have been the nature of the procedure they had conducted on her? And what was the purpose? What would aliens want with human reproductive cells?

It was another six days before she heard back from Josh. In that time, she had found dozens of more stories and reports of abduction. She had started to piece them together into a profile of similar experiences, descriptions, and symptoms. She found the scope of instances alarming and baffling – how had this not made front page news? She even found photos of alien-like beings in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and Mayan ruins. Could aliens have been visiting the Earth and its inhabitants for centuries?

Among her research was a tantalizing theory posited by an Oxford professor Young-hae Chi that aliens were interbreeding with humans with the goal of creating a hybrid species capable of surviving future planetary damage from the effects of climate change. Chi’s theory acknowledged the rise in sightings and abduction claims and linked them to the rapid increase in atmospheric greenhouse gases. His research also focused on the impact of interbreeding to create what he described as a “temperature-tolerant hybrid” between humans and aliens that can withstand the planetary changes.

She planned to write a series of stories that would link the eyewitness testimony and the theories from top scientists, culminating in a description of her own experience. It terrified her to her core to think about sharing her story, but she knew she could not avoid it. It would help put a personal stamp on her writing and would hopefully lend some credence coming from a journalist.

As she drove to meet with the contact Josh had put her in touch with - a Colonel Black with the AARO – she compiled a list in her head of the research and interviews she needed to coordinate for her story.

She pulled up to a nondescript, industrial style building in a nearly deserted strip mall in Alexandria, Virginia. She found it odd that such a top-secret, prestigious office of the Defense Department would be housed here. She rang the buzzer of a gray steel door next to a shuttered laundry mat. The door buzzed loudly, and she stepped within as her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkened entryway.

A sentry was seated at a desk just within the door. He tilted his head to indicate the security checkpoint and she placed her purse and laptop on the conveyor belt. Through the magnetometer, she was given an electronic badge on a lanyard as another military-clad sentry escorted her to a windowless conference room. She made herself comfortable as she awaited Colonel Black.

When he stepped into the room, she was taken aback. She had expected someone much older. He was young and good-looking, in his early thirties, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He sat down across the table from her wordlessly, seeming to assess her while she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Finally, he broke the silence.

“What can I assist you with, Miss Evans?”

“Thank you for taking the meeting, Colonel Black. As I’m sure my brother informed you, I am a reporter, and I am working on an investigative series regarding what you call UAPs. Specifically, I am looking at the connections and similarities between survivor stories, particularly the contention from many of these survivors that the abductions involved experiments on reproductive organs.”

She went on to cite the research theories, including Professor Chi’s speculation around interbreeding of aliens and humans. She did not mention her own experience – it was still too raw, and she wasn’t prepared to share the details as yet. After she finished recounting the outline of her planned reporting, she was met with silence and a frank stare of assessment from Colonel Black.

“You do realize, Miss Evans, that these stories have been around for decades and have been mostly debunked. Even the recent UAP sightings have not been confirmed by any source as extraterrestrial. We may not fully understand them as yet, but you are making a leap to conclusions that is beyond the pale.”

She bristled at his easy dismissal. “Colonel, I’ve thoroughly researched this story and I think there is something to it. I think the government agrees, or you would not have established the AARO to investigate these occurrences. I get your desire for secrecy, but the public is surely entitled to understand what is going on.”

“I can refer you to the unclassified sections of our report to Congress and that is all I can provide you. I’m afraid I’m going to need to cut this meeting short. Good day, Miss Evans.”

And with that he left. She sat there fuming at the brush-off until someone came along to escort her from the premises. She left with a nagging feeling that the Colonel knew more than he was willing to tell.

On a hunch, she pulled her vehicle behind the dumpster of the abandoned strip mall and waited. The wait only frayed her nerves more.

Eventually the Colonel exited the building with his briefcase and stepped into a waiting black SUV. They took off and Jessica followed them from a safe distance. It wasn’t too long before the SUV turned into the driveway of a tasteful Tudor on a tree-lined avenue on the outskirts of Alexandria. The property was gated and as Jessica drove past, she saw the iron gates close behind the SUV as it made its way up toward the home. She parked her car several doors down and waited discreetly.

About two hours later, as night was falling, the SUV pulled out once again. She couldn’t tell who the passenger was through the tinted windows.

“This is crazy, Jessica. I can’t believe you are doing this,” she told herself. She slipped from her car and circled the property under cover of dark. She came to a tree that grew up and over the iron fence and shimmied her way up and across an overhanging branch until she was able to drop softly onto the green expanse of Colonel Black’s lawn.

She crept soundlessly toward the windows along the back of the house, peering in to get a sense of whether anyone was home. The lights were out throughout the bottom floor. As she crept across the back patio, she tried the knob on the back door and to her surprise, it swung open. She stepped nervously inside, asking, “is anyone home?” She had already made up a story in her head that her vehicle broke down if someone were to answer. Her words echoed through the cavernous home, so she began to explore.

She made her way through the kitchen and tried several doors until she came to what appeared to be a study. She stepped inside and closed the door. Using the flashlight from her phone, she scanned the desktop. With nothing in sight, she began checking drawers. The bottom left drawer was locked. Her curiosity piqued, she grabbed a letter opener from the top of the desk and jimmied the lock.

Her light revealed a stack of files in the drawers. She withdrew them and saw they were all marked “top secret.” She opened the top file and was stunned by what she saw. It was a photo of her on the alien ship. She way lying on the metal table unconscious.

“How is this possible? I was there alone on the alien ship,” she thought frantically. Under the photos was a document that included her name, birthdate, occupation, address, and account of her experience, which she had yet to write down or share with anyone. Her brain began to swim.

As she thumbed through the other files, she saw similar photos of people lying unconscious with the curved walls of the alien ship gleaming around them. Their accounts were all similar to hers. She grabbed her phone and began to photograph the pictures in the file.

As she did so, the door to the study opened and Colonel Black came into the room.

“Miss Evans, I suspected you would not be able to let this story go. That’s why we placed a tracker on you when you visited our unit today. And much to my surprise, we tracked you to my home.”

She leapt up, brandishing her photo from the alien ship in his face, “How can you explain this?! I told no one about what happened to me. How did you get these photos? Is the U.S. government working in partnership with aliens? How can you possibly justify what you are doing?

“Have a seat, Miss Evans. And I’ll explain.”

“First, the race of beings you encountered on that ship are not alien. They are as human as you and I. They are, in fact, the evolution of our human race and what we are to become by the year 3389.”

The color drained from her face and she did sit, for fear she might faint. “How is this real?” she gasped.

“Your theories are partly correct. Climate change is responsible for the increases in visits. These futurians, as we call them, have been visiting us for centuries. It is the only way they can sustain the human race. Sadly, not too many years from now, the pollution and changes to our Earth’s climate will create almost unlivable conditions on Earth. Particles in our atmosphere will block the sun’s rays and make visibility difficult. That is why humans adapted over time -- growing smaller to consume less, our eyes enlarging to see in the permanent twilight of our world, the skin turning grayish to block out harmful radiation. The one adaptation that they were not able to achieve is in the area of procreation. The human race in 3389 is sterile. Their technology allows them to travel back in time – as far back as ancient Egypt and as recently as today – to harvest what they need to ensure the survival of the human race. Our reproductive cells, which they harvest as discreetly as possible, are all that stands between our race and extinction. Most people have no memory of the process. But you, as were several others, seem to be immune to their efforts to wipe your memory.”

Jessica glared at him. “But you are in on it. You are covering it up. Why?”

“By necessity, my dear. The government has known since the incident at Roswell in 1947. We recovered three bodies from the crash site. Two were deceased but one survived. We’ve helped the futurians ever since for the sake of our survival. But we knew the world was not ready for this knowledge. Someday, maybe, but that day is not today.”

“And that, Miss Evans, is why you will never publish this story.”

THE END