THE TEXT

THE TEXT (Authors note: While it is a known FACT that, in America, to kill a person, using objects such as pipes, wire, noose, gun, or knife, subjects the offender to a normal prison sentence, of 20 years, to life, this leaves the question about whether texting can be considered murder.) I leave this question for readers to decide. The story goes that, when a young gentleman sends a young lady, a text message, saying he wishes her company, on a date, That the young lady responds, most passionately, with the return text "You are NOT a MAN! You dont deserve a WOMAN! Drop dead." While the young man no-longer texted the lady, hoping for her attention, after such pasionate rejection, the problem would be the local "gossip lines". Mostly young ladies (and a FEW, young, men), all of whom begin chatting, about the gentleman, who texted the lady. While the young men refer to the messenger as a homossexual (among other terms), it would seem that the young women were far worse, in their actions. Soon, the young lady begins receiving texts, asking "Are you REALLY, considering going out with that (gentleman)?" When the young woman would, passionately, deny this, then text the young man, saying "Stop telling people that we are dating. You are NOT a MAN!" When the young man was confused, by this, wondering WHY the young woman was texting him, after she has, already, turned him down, he would text her asking "WHO is saying we are dating?" The young woman would, simply, wipe out the message, from her text log. When her friends would say that they were "hearing" that the couple was "going steady", asking the young woman "Why are you dating that (gentleman)?" When the young woman would insist "We are NOT dating." Her friends would say "Thats NOT what we are hearing." The young woman would text the gentleman, saying "If you dont stop telling people that we are dating, I would be glad to kill you, myself. You are NOT a MAN!" Each time the gentleman would text the woman, asking "WHO is saying this?" The young lady would say "Dont deny it. I KNOW it is you." When the young man tried to speak to the girl, in person, she would make a point of screaming "Get AWAY from me, you creep!" Maybe a month later, when the young woman was told there were rumors, that she was pregnant by, and preparing to marry, the gentleman, she sent her harshest text message, to date: "Do this world a favor, you FREAK! Kill yourself, so I wont have to listen to any more rumors, about us being a couple. Freaks, like you, dont deserve to live. Do this world a favor, and KILL yourself." While the gentleman was puzzled, as to why a woman, who would not even answer his own texts, nor speak with him, was accusing him of being less than human, he began to wonder if the world MIGHT be a better place, without him. After all, his world was not like the world of the high school jocks. The guys, who bashed heads, in order to impress girls. He might have LIKED to have been more popular, yet his classmates shunned him, at every opportunity. They just could not stand the fact that the gentleman just wanted to live in peace. With the girls hurtful text message, burning in his soul, the young man came to wonder if the girl was right. If he didn't "fit in", with the "macho" crowd, then this left the question of "Would he fit in, with life, in general?"" What was the point, of living, with never-ending rejections? Rejections, by classmates. Rejections, by girls. What was the point. As the gentleman stared, at the girls message, it had occurred, to him, to ask WHERE her remarks were coming from. When he had asked his fellow classmates, all the boys would say was "jerk.", while the girls taunted him, saying "A REAL MAN would KNOW! If you dont know, then you are NOT a REAL man." With these insults hitting, like bullets, and arrows, the gentleman would make up his mind. If the girl was right, and he had no right to live, then what was the point? When his body was found, the police, and coroner, MIGHT have ruled the death suicide, BUT that was only until the police began searching his e-mail, and text messages, trying to find a REASON, for the action. The problem was that the police found, what even the gentlemans parents had not known about (since they respected their sons privacy). Between the girls frequent messages, telling the gentleman that he was not a man, and those messages, suggesting, very directly, that the world would be a better place, if he just KILLED himself, the police would be left to build a case, against the young lady. When brought in, for questioning, the young lady insisted "I HAD to send those messages. He was telling people that we were a couple, that I was pregnant, and that we were getting married. I HAD to tell him to drop dead! I HAD to." The problem the police had was that, while there were over a dozen messages, to the boy, from the girl, there was almost nothing, in the other direction. When an I.P. officer did a background, on the call history, of both phones, and this showed only two messages, from the boy, both asking where the girl got her information, the girl insisted "I was TOLD that he was making suggestive remarks." When a detective asked "By whom were you told, about these remarks?" The girl would insist "By TRUSTED friends." When the girl refused to give her friends names, the police ended up investigating most of the high school. By the time the case went for prosecution, the police had learned that it wasn't her victim, who was spreading the rumors. It was her "friends". People, whom others overheard asking "What would happen if..." As the rumors spread, they changed from "What if", to "When?" It was the high school gossip lines, which lead to the rumors. Rumors, such as "There is NO way she would consider dating such a whimp, would she?" Then, there was the rumor about "Could you imagine if she got pregnant, by that whimp?" The problem the District Attorneys office would have, with this case, was the fact that there was no "direct" connection, between killer, and victim. Sure, she had told the gentleman that the world would be a better place, without him, but the D.A. had the problem, which faced married couples, on a regular basis. Couples who, during times, of stress, spoke of desires to kill one another. Desires, which, once spoken, and rage vented, never came to pass. Now, there was a case, in which a young woman had suggested, to a gentleman, that the world would be better, if he were DEAD. HOW could the prosecuter put a girl on trial, for venting her emotions, via text messaging? What even the police had not understood was the girls passionate insistence, at not questioning the true source, of the rumors. How could she, simply, decide that it was a spurned suitor? While the D.A. was certain that, if it had been a MAN, who commited this act, that a prison term would be easy to come by, the problem was "How to convict a girl, of killing a boy, via text messaging?" Would a court, or a jury, convict a FEMALE, of such an act? Even if they did, WHAT was the most sentence, that she would receive? Five years? No matter how the D.A. "sliced it", the girl would "walk away", from this, with her whole LIFE ahead of her. Five years, in prison? She would, still, be in her early twenties, upon release. Plenty of time for career, family, and plenty of time, to enjoy life. Her victims life was OVER, finished, gone. Her life would go on. She would have the very happiness, that her victim would be, permanently, DENIED. The District Attorney, the police, and even the victims family, would be left with the question: HO

THE NEW BRADY BUNCH # 6

THE NEW BRADY BUNCH # 6 MARCIA'S DISAPPEARANCE The day Marcia Brady vanished should have been a special day, for the eldest, Brady, daughter. Between awards, achievements, and her grades, Marcia was placed in the top five percent, of her class. As a result of this, Marcia would be chosen to take an "advanced placement" test, in order to provide a better idea, of which college the young woman would attend. In the two weeks, leading up, to the test, Carol, and Mike, Brady had, never, seen Marcia study, for anything, as hard as she studied, for that test. This is why the Brady's expected good news, after Marcia completed the test. What surprised the Brady family was that, after two, gruelling, weeks, of study, and expecting Marcia to come home "bursting" with good news, the family was surprised when Marcia did NOT rush home, from school. In fact, after the other five, Brady, children returned home, and Carol expressed her concern, Alice suggested Carol call the school. When Carol phoned the school, hoping NOT to hear that Marcia had failed the placement exam, Carol found that all that school staff would suggest was "Mrs. Brady, Marcia departed school, along with the other students. Her teachers said that Marcia seemed happy with her placement test results." It was when Carol began checking, with the teen girls hang-outs, as well as calling other parents, that Carol Brady was astonished to hear that the last place anyone had seen Marcia was at school. By the time Mike Brady returned home, from work, Carol, and Alice, had called most of the neighborhood. While some of those called said they THOUGHT they saw Marcia at various places, it was when the elder Brady's arrived, at each location, and took a close look, at the women, in question, that it was obvious, even from a distance, that the women were not Marcia. That evening, dinner was sparse, and Alice packed most, of the food away, for the next days lunches. This, as the Brady's went from calling around the general area, and Mike Brady would connect the family's normally pre-paid cell-phones, to his contract phone, to aid in the search. That night, and, for the following week, Marcia was reportedly seen, all over town. At grocery stores, movies, liquor stores. Every place, in town, where a person could go. Mike, Greg, and Peter, also, had extra duty. The duty of replacing punctured inner tubes, in bicycle tires. This, since Marcia was, reportedly, seen in places cars should never go. It was only after thirty-six hours, of a private search, that the local police got involved. Marcia was twelve hours beyond the mandatory twenty-four hour, runaway, deadline. While three reports, of "sightings", that week, turned out to be homeless women. Women who simply appearred similar, when viewed, from a distance, other reports were no less "favorable". These included "sightings", at local, video, stores. Stores, whose staff THOUGHT that Marcia had been observed, from time to time. Staff were, simply, un-certain, due to the fact that, when Marcia's NAME was called out, the women did not respond. It was not until more than a full week, after her disappearance, that Marcia Brady arrived, at the Brady house, after school, to inform Carol and Alice "I just got the news. My grades were high enough for admittance, to advanced placement. Isn't that great?" When Marcia saw the looks, of concern, on Carol, and Alices, faces, Marcia would ask "Whats wrong? Did I do something?" When Carol, gently, asked "Where were you?" Marcia would say "I was at school, all day. Where should I be?" When Carol would ask "Did you come right home, from school?" Marcia would say "Okay, busted. I stopped off, for a soda, with Stephanie and Laurie. Whats the big deal? I didn't ruin my dinner." When Carol would say "Okay, honey, thats great news. Now, go wash up, for dinner." After Marcia went upstairs, Carol went into Mikes private den, and called her husband. When Mike would ask "Where has Marcia been, for over a week?" Carol would say "Mike, Marcia is talking like the past week did not exist." Mike would say "Im coming home, now." After calling Mike, Carol stepped from the den, to find Marcia asking "Mom, why do all the clocks, and calendars, show that it is next week?" Carol would inform Marcia "I will let your father explain. He is coming home, now." Shortly after this, the other five Brady kids would enter the house, looking amazed at seeing Marcia. It would be Greg who would ask "Where have you been? We've been looking all over town, for you. Where did you get to?" When Marcia would ask "Mom, what is Greg talking about?" Peter would say "You, silly. We just spent the whole week..." and Carol would cut Peter off, saying "Peter, what matters is that Marcia is back." When Mike Brady arrived, home, the questions switched from "Where have you been?" to Mike asking "What is the last thing you remember?" When Marcia would say "Honest, dad. After studying, for over a week, I took the test, got one of the highest grades, in class, then came home, to find everyone asking where I have been." When Mike would ask "Just relax, and tell us everything that happened, after you left school." When Marcia would say "Honest, dad, all I did was meet my friends, and share some soda. I was going to go to the park, for a few miinutes, but I decided I couldn't wait to give mom, and Alice, the good news. When I came in, mom, and Alice, acted like I had been gone, for a full year." When Carol would say "It felt like a full year." When Marcia would say "Mom, it was just a regular school day. I dont know why everyone is so anxious." When Mike would ask "You are sure you did not stop off, any place?" Marcia would ask "Whats this all about, dad? Why are all the calendars a week ahead?" Mike would say "Honey, that test was a full week ago. We have been searching, for you, since last week." When Marcia would ask "A week ago? But, Stephanie, Patty, and Louise. They all looked fine." Mike would say "Thats because you saw them, last week." That night, sometime after midnight, Jan would be awakened, by a strange sound, and words, being whispered. Words Jan did not understand. When Jan chanced a peek, at the girls bedroom window, Jan saw Marcia, looking out the window. (Did Jan, really, hear "They dont suspect a thing. The project is proceeding. Final preparation in (some sort of time period)). Come morning, when Jan asked Marcia what Marcia was talking about, and with whom, Marcia would say "Dont be ridiculous. I went to bed, with you and Cindy. I never woke up, until morning." Wondering if it COULD have been a dream, Jan would ask Alice "How do you tell a dream from real life?" When Alice would say "If you pinch yourself, and it hurts, then you are awake." That night, after midnight, Jan found Marcia at the window, again. This time, Marcia was speaking of equations, and formulas, as well as coordinates, saying "No one will suspect. Closed down years ago." Come morning, Marcia would, again, tell Jan "You were dreaming. WHO would I be talking to, so late at night?" The third night, Jan bumped Cindys bed, as Jan watched Marcia, at the window. When Cindy went to scream, Jan put a hand over Cindy's mouth, then made the sign for "shhh". Jan, and Cindy, watched, as Marcia spoke, first to nothing, then was surrounded by a colored mist. When Jan whispered, to Cindy "If you see the same thing I do, nod." When Cindy nodded, Jan was tempted to touch Marcia's hand. But only until Jan remembered some advice, about sleep-walkers. "Never try to awaken, or startle, a sleep-walker. The consequences can be deadly." After finishing her "conversation", Marcia went to the girls bedroom mirror and, using Cindy's crayons, wrote something, on the mirror, before returning to bed. This is when Jan grabbed one, of the "emergency pen-lights", to be used in case of power failures, and tried to read what was written on the mirror. When Jan found she couldn't read what was written, Jan grabbed her digital camera, swithed to "night mode", then snapped photo's, of the symbols, before returning to bed. Come morning, Jan, and Cindy, were startled, awake, when Marcia let out a scream, which brought the family running. Mike, Carol, Alice, and the boys, all came running, only to find Marcia rubbing out the symbols, to the point where they were un-readable. This is while Marcia was asking Jan "How could you", to which Jan responded with "What did I do?" When Mike would ask "Alright, girls! I want an explanation, and I want it BEFORE breakfast gets cold." When Jan would say "Marcia got up, in the night, and used Cindy's crayons, to write on our mirror." Just as Cindy would say "Thats right, she sure did." Marcia would scream "Liars!" When the three girls began fighting, with Carol trying to bring peace, Mike would, finally, shout "Hold it!", then add "Just WHAT was on the mirror?" While Jan, and Cindy, would say "I dont know." Marcia would promise "Mom, dad, I swear. I went to bed, and got up to find THAT" pointing at the glass, of the mirror, saying "On the glass." When Carol would ask "WHAT was written, on the mirror?" Marcia would say "I would rather not say. Its not nice." When Carol would ask "Profanity?" Marcia would say "Something like that." When Mike would say "Its too bad you didn't save it. I would like to know what it said." It was when Marcia would say "Its gone, for GOOD." This is when Jan would say "I wouldn't say that." and produced her digital camera. Jan would tell her parents "I tried to read it, by flashlight, after Marcia returned to bed..." Marcia would insist "I NEVER got OUT of bed." Jan would say "When I could not read it, in the darkness, I snapped some pictures. I was hoping dad could figure out what it says." This is when Mike Brady would say "Everyone, follow me. It is time for some television." When Jans digital camera was plugged into the television, which was set to "computer" mode, Mike, and Carol, were surprised when Marcia asked "Do we HAVE to look at it. Its so dirty." Carol would promise "You wont be punished, for someone elses pranks." When Mike brought the images up, on the 60 inch t.v., Marcia would bury her head, in a pillow. It would be the boys who would be first to ask Mike "What is that?" When Carol would ask "Mike, is that even English?" Mike would look, at the symbols, which he would copy, first to a flash drive, then print them out, saying "I have no idea what they mean. I see some mathematics, but I cannot make out anything else." After this, Mike would ask Marcia "What do you think they say?" Marcia would write out the first, of two, notes. Both written in languages even Mike Brady knew nothing about. When Mike would ask Marcia "try again, honey. This time, in English." When Marcia wrote, in heiroglyths, Carol would ask "Marcia, I thought you weren't studying heiroglyths, until next semester." Marcia would say "I'm not." Taking the available information, Mike Brady made some phone calls, to his "contacts", at federal agencies, attaching the pictures, and asking "What do these say, in English?" By mid-afternoon, Mike Brady was surprised when a C.I.A. agent visited the firm, asking Mike Brady "WHERE did you find these?" When Mike smiled, saying "According to my younger daughters, their older sister got up, in the night, and wrote THAT, on a bed room mirror." When the C.I.A. asked "Does your daughter understand what this means?" Mike would ask "Whats this all about?" The C.I.A. would ask him "Does your daughter KNOW what this means?" Mike would say "All Marcia would say was that it was a terrible insult. Why? What DOES it say?" The C.I.A. would produce a "Non-Disclosure" document, which Mike would sign, then, becoming serious, Mike would ask the C.I.A. "WHAT is this all about?" When the agent would ask "Did your daughter, recently, go missing?" Mike would say "I'm sure you know she did. What about it?" When the C.I.A. would ask "When she returned, did she act like nothing had happened? Like all was normal?" When Mike would say "I think you KNOW she did." Getting serious, Mike would ask "Whats this all about?" The C.I.A. would ask "May we SEE your daughter?" Mike would stand his ground, saying "NOT until I get some answers." C.I.A. would say "In that case, Michael Brady, consider yourself served. You WILL produce your daughter, at this address..." handing Mike a business card, then adding "...failure to comply will result in felony evidence tampering." When the C.I.A. left the firms offices, and Mike's boss would ask "WHAT was all that about?" Mike would say "I have no idea." even as he removed all the documents, from his office comuter, just moments before an outside source overrode his codes, and searched his computer, for what was no-longer there. When Mikes boss would ask "Mike, WHAT is going on?" Mike would say "I WISH I knew." The next couple of nights, the whole family sat, in the dark, as Marcia got up, walked to the window and, as Greg, Mike, and Peter pressed record, on some digital recorders, then set the devices as close, to Marcia, as possible, they recorded Marcia, who was saying "All is according to plan." then "NO. Suggest South America. This unit seems tense." then "Doubtful that message was received." When a blue beam shined in the window, and surrounded Marcia, who began to speak in an unknown language, Alice tugged at Carol, who nudged Mike, repeatedly. Mike kept to the deal, though. As long as no harm came, to his daughter, Mike was determined to see this through. After finishing what Mike considered a "status/situation report", Marcia returned to bed, and fell fast asleep. With this information, and the fact that the feds had accessed his computer, without his consent, Mike Brady would drive, un-announced, to the local university, asking his friends, in person "Would you give this a listen, and tell me what you think?" Seventeen linguists later, and Mike Brady would find himself presenting audio, and visual, evidence, to a physicist. After placing the photos on a chalk board, the physicist would begin writing, on the board, then give Mike his conclusion. "Michael Brady, is it true, that your daughter, Marcia, was missing, for a full week, recently, correct?" When Mike would ask "WHY does everyone keep asking that?" The physicist would say "Your daughter returned, un-aware of the passage of time?" Mike would say "Yeh. Tell ME what I DONT know." The physicist would say "For lack of a more proper term, your daughter is a "probe"." When Mike Brady would ask "A "probe"?" then laugh, as he said "Marcia does not have antenna, or anything else." The physicist would suggest "Yet, after your daughter goes to bed, at night, she rises, goes to her window, and speaks, presumably to nothing." When Mike would say "Its one-sided. Believe me, I was there. No other voices." When the physicist would ask "Are you sure?" When Mike followed the physicist to a radio-accoustic lab, which analyzed the digital recordings, Mike Brady was in for a surprise. When Mike returned to his employers firm, then to his house, to give Carol, and Alice, the news, Carol thought Mike was trying to be witty, as she suggested "Marcia doesn't look anything like the terminator, C-3PO, or other robots." Mike would say "Never-the-less", then "Listen to this. The university made it, from our digital recorders." When Carol said "This HAS to be a joke. It doesn't make sense. Why use a high schooler for reconnaissance?" Mike would ask "Who better? Who asks more questions? Who observes more careers? Who is more willing to break rules, than a teen?" When Alice would ask "Excuse me, Mr. Brady, but wouldnt a spy KNOW they are a spy?" Mike would ask "Have you any idea how many deep-cover agents the Soviets had planted, in America, during the Cold War? People, who spent their entire LIVES, thinking they were loyal Americans. Not knowing true identities, even upon death?" When Carol would ask "What do we do? Not about Marcia. About the C.I.A.?" Mike would say "Legally, since I am under contract, on several, federal, contracts, and these contracts ARE providing us with food, for six kids, I would say compliance is our best option." Problem was, when Mike, and Carol, delivered Marcia, to the C.I.A. address, no matter what techniques the agency tried, even interrogation failed. For the Brady's, the only, positive, outcome, of that day, was Marcia, remembering the clock showing 8:45 a.m., when she was placed under hypnosis, then, a moment later, seeing that the clock read 5:00 p.m. When Marcia asked her parents "How did it go?" Carol would say "We will discuss that later." For the next two months, the Brady's did nothing, except watch Marcia give her nightly reports. The only thing Jan was certain of was that she MUST have been sleeping, on the final night, of Marcia's "reports". This, because, after Marcia returned to bed, Jan awoke, later, to find the entire bedroom filled with the blue light. Cindy was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, as though in a trance. This, while seven figures, all with short bodies, and over-sized heads, seemed to surround Marcia, like a team of doctors. While Jan pretended to be asleep, the figures seemed to be conversing, over Marcia's form. Two, maybe three, of the forms, wanted to terminate the "experiment". The others suggested "Unless she is exposed, we shall continue." While Jan prayed, to God, not to make a sound, she watched as the figures took (samples), of Marcia's body, then (levitated) out of the bedroom window. While Jan promised herself that she would not say a word, it seems she didn't have to. Maybe three weeks after the "encounter", Marcia took a fall, and had to be X-ray'd. When the x-rays turned up bits, of metal, which seemed to serve no purpose, doctors made tiny incisions, removed the metal, and sent Marcia home, to rest. Marcia had no idea what remained inside her body, until the day when Mike was advising Greg, on how to, properly, build a scanner. The process was going well, until Marcia got near the scanner. At first, Greg thought Marcia was tampering, with the device, but only until Mike asked Marcia to step just outside the room. When the machine returned to normal operation, and Mike called, to Marcia "Honey, come back in." Marcia did, and the scanner responded. When Greg asked Marcia "What did you do, to my scanner?" Mike would say "Hold on, Greg". then, with the scanner switched off, Mike pointed the scanner, at Marcia. As Mike turned the scanner back on, ran the scanner, over Marcia's body, the reading remained odd, from Marcia's head, to her chest. It was below her chest, and in the general area, of the metal fragment, that the interference tuned into an actual signal. As Mike would say "Low power. Low frequency." When Greg would ask "Dad, what does that mean?" Mike would say "It means that, whoever put this inside your sister HAS to be close by." When Greg would ask "How close?" Mike would say "Within four blocks, maximum." When Marcia would ask "What would anyone want, with me?" Mike would say "I think we should find out." After searching the area, by daylight, eight times, Mike would ask Jan, and Cindy "What TIME does Marcia do her "window-talking"?" While Cindy would say "It was DARK. Like late dark." Jan would say "I would say between 12:15 and 1:45 a.m." With the aid of some borrowed equipment, the girls bedroom could be "staked out", from both inside, and outside. Mike would watch as, on various nights, a blue orb would hover, just outside the girls bedroom, while Marcia stood at the window. Mike would realize "That figures. Low power, low signal. Marcia must be the receiver, and that blue orb is a "flash drive". While Mike did not want to disclose it, anymore than anyone else did, the fact was that these "beings", these aliens, were collecting data, on the Earth. They were using children, like Marcia, as "remote drones". WAS the C.I.A. correct, to be concerned? WHY did these aliens want to know about Earth? The only answer, which Mike Brady could think of was that Marcia was so ambitious. She had scores, of ribbons, plaques, and was even editor, of her school newspaper. Mike thought about those "mind control" science fiction movies. Question: Could that metal, inside Marcia's body, eventually come to control her mind? The answer came the evening when Mike was working, late, on some drawings. Originally, the design firm had been given a full MONTH, to come up with some building designs. For some, un-known, reason, the deadline had, suddenly, changed. As a result, Carol Brady was by her husbands side, keeping him focused, as he worked, into the night, trying to finish the work, by the next days deadline. It was, probably, around 2, or 3, A.M., when the blue light appearred, inside the den. Mike would tell Carol "Relax, honey, I see it as well." When Mike would ask "If someone is there, would you identify yourself?" This is when a short form entered the room, and, using what Mike Brady presumed was telepathy, would instruct the Brady's "Your daughter has been returned to you. Our research is complete." When Mike Brady would think "Just WHAT research is that?" The being would "say" "We have been studying your form, for longer than you know. We were HOPING that your race had advanced beyond the need to kill, over politics, religion, and other matters." When Mike thought "I guess we are not that advanced, are we?" The creature would say "Not while your children kill one another, via remote devices. Not while your people attack one another, over religion." When Mike Brady would think "Not ALL of us are like that. Some of us are, in fact, peaceful." By the look, on the aliens face, Mike Brady could sense that the alien did not believe these words any more than Mike Brady, himself. Yes, humanity had a LOT of "growing up" left to do. The question was: Would we survive, long enough, to "grow up"? When Mike would "ask" "About Marcia." The alien would "say" "Our finest probe, yet. A true achiever. You will give her our thanks, for ALL of her assistance." When Mike would "ask" "Are you departing, permanently, or will you be returning?" The alien would "say" "Your daughter is in no further danger. We will (erase) all documentation. Her life is her own. We will, no-longer, be a cause for concern." When Mike would "ask" "Just WHAT is your purpose, on Earth?" The alien would place a "vision", into Mike Brady's mind. Mike was left to wonder if it was a vision, of the possible, even peaceful, future, OR was it a memory, of what HAD been, in the distant past. All Mike Brady knew was that the vision was beautiful, and peaceful. After giving Mike Brady the "vision", Mike, and Carol, watched as the aliens "left" the family home, as if the walls did not exist. When the light returned to normal, Carol would ask Mike "Do you think it is possible? Can mankind, ever, learn to live in peace?" Mike would say "If we can raise six kids, then ANY-thing IS possible. The REAL question is: Does mankind WANT to live in peace?"

THE WEDDING FIASCO AND AFTERWARDS

THE WEDDING FIASCO... AND AFTERWARDS While I KNOW that I had made a point, of reminding my friend, that I knew neither the bride, nor the groom, in an upcoming wedding, my friend suggested "Its a great way to meet girls!" On the actual day, of the wedding, I had no idea WHERE my friend was. What I DID find was an ebony angel, who was weeping, near the church. While I did NOT go into too much details, so as not to upset the woman, I DID offer her my shoulder, then an embrace, as I whispered a generic "It will be fine." When she whispered "How do you know?" I whispered "You are young, and very beautiful." When she whispered "I'll bet you say that, to ALL the girls." This is when I embraced this woman, and gave her a long, deep, kiss. (And, no, I made no objection, when the kiss went French.) Having forgotten about wondering WHERE my "friend" was, I noticed I was relieving this angels fears. Knowing this, I proceeded with necking, and carressing her. Anything I could think of, which would make this angel happy. As for her womanhood, I savored this, like a feast, even as she carressed me. When I came back up, face-to-face, with her, she smiled as she whispered "My turn." My God! By the way she handled my manhood, I was even more certain, than ever, that this woman was an angel. Since I figured that this angel was, simply, a member, of the wedding party, I saw no reason to feel shame, when we became "one". My main hope was that I was giving her the very best love she had, ever, had. After "seconds", she whispered "Thank You", and I whispered "Any time, my love." I am happy to say that, when she entered the church, her weeping was replaced with a bright smile. Of course, when I entered th church, I expected to be asked which party I was with. When I mentioned that I was a "plus one", and gave the greeter the invited's name, I was told where to sit. When I took a seat, where designated, I dont know who was more confused. The people, who told me that the invited was in jail, on "Solicitation" charges, or if it was when I asked the group "Since the invited is not here, should I leave?" Any response was drowned out, as the service began. While the minister was as ivory as I was, the gathering was more-or-less half-and-half. The angelic voices, of the choir, resonated with the polished glee, of having grown up, in church. While the priest picked up the Bible, and all, present, did as we should, I can only conclude that the "mass of muscle", which came to stand, before the priest, was the groom. While his tuxedo might be an extra-large, even I could tell there was no fat, below that material. When I wondered what woman would be marrying him, I did not know whether to be horrified, or ashamed, when the bride came forward. Now, in my case, as anyone can attest, put ME into either a tuxedo, or formal wear, and I look tottally sickly. In fact, more than once, people have asked if I felt well, once in dress clothes. This is about how I felt, when I watched the bride enter the chapel. The wedding dress made my angel look like a bar of chocolate, covered in fluffy, whipped topping. In my opinion, the bride would have looked much more beautiful, in either deep red, or navy blue. It was not until she winked at me that I realized. On a brides wedding day, I had done everything except propose to her. Then I remembered. Since I did NOT know that the woman I was loving was the bride-to-be, I felt like the situation was "No harm, No foul." While I remember that she mentioned that she was afraid, she never mentioned either what she was afraid of, or that she was the bride. Then came the worst part. The priest had, barely, gotten to the part of saying "We are gathered here, today..." When the groom cried out a profanity, to which the priest stated "Sir, this is the House of the Lord." When the priest began, again, the groom cried out, using more profanity, while telling my angel "Stop stepping on my foot." When my angel, and the priest, denied that such had happened, the groom turned to my angel, saying "Step on my foot, one more time (string of profanities), and I am walking out." It was no wonder that my angel lifted her veil, saying "Fine!", then, visibly, lifting her leg, and power-ramming the grooms foot. My angel then looked, at the congregation, saying "THAT time, I DID it. Right in front of all of you." When the groom uttered more profanity, telling the bride she wasn't getting a wedding NIGHT, the priest would step in, saying "Sir! You have profaned the House of the Lord. There will be no wedding, today. LEAVE this temple, of God, immediately!" While several, of those, departing the church, said it would be normal for a bride to take her time, coming out of church, When my angel stepped outside the church, I wasn't sure what to say, first. I guess this is why she embraced, and kissed, me, then whispered "It wasn't your fault. I didn't tell you that I was getting married. I guess I just wanted a bit of love, before getting married." When I asked "You dont think what we did, before the wedding, "jinxed" the proceedings." She smiled as she said "Superstition is for children. I just dont think he wanted it to happen." After departing the church, and during a walk, in a nearby park, we not only exchanged NAMES, but Jasmine gave me the summary: While her husband-to-be was a two-time loser, who felt that having a "wife" (housekeeper and child care) would keep him out of prison... It seems that Jasmines family was so "afraid", since Jasmine admitted that she perferred dating ivory men. Her mother was scared that Jasmines children would not be fully Negro. This is why the Negro marriage had been "arranged". By the time we reached Jasmines place, Jasmine had promised me "The most romantic moment, I have had, in recent months, was our "moment", just before that ceremony." When I asked "What are your plans, now?" Jasmine smiled as she said "First things first. I want to find out how good you are, in bed." While I followed her lead, and her smile only grew, as the day proceeded, I noticed that the only time, when Jasmine became edgy, was when a friends phone call interrupted "US". After listening to the caller, for a few moments, Jasmine told the caller where she was, and what she wanted to get back to. It must have been a friend who called, since Jasmine said "I'll call you, LATER." After that, as Jasmine snuggled back, into my arms, she whispered "My friend wanted me to know that (the groom) has had five women, since the wedding service." When I suggested "Then, he never loved you, did he." Jasmine smiled as she said "Not one percent as much as you do." For reasons, which I will, never, understand, over those next six months, Jasmines friends decided to "keep score", of both parties. For six months, and even though her friends understood that Jasmine was with ME, the friends kept reminding Jasmine of (the grooms) average, of 25, to 30, women, per month. After six months time, (the grooms) "score card" read "150 conquests", filling two pages, of paper. This, in contrast to Jasmines ONE lover. Me. I KNOW Jasmine told her friends that she could not care, less, about (the groom). As for the LAME-est part, of our first year, together, this was when Jasmines own, criminal, record, "came to light". It would seem that (the groom) was trying to "Sell Jasmine down the river", in return for a lighter sentence, for himself. From what Jasmine told me, her "involvement", in the crime, was limited to reminding the thieves about security measures. That, and the fact that, when the thieves discussed using a LARGE woman, as a distraction, for the duty guard, during the theft... Jasmine had been the one to mention that, while she dated the mans brother, the then in-training guard had offered to "take over" Jasmine, if his brother lost interest. Jasmine had only smiled, at the man, as she whispered "I will let you know." This is why Jasmine had suggested a "girl next door" type, to distract the guard. Jasmines final "colussion", with the thieves, had been to suggest "Make sure the woman is friendly. Neighborly. No profanity." This had been the end of Jasmines part, in the robbery. While the thieves handled the security system, one of the thieves own sisters "handled" the guard. From what Jasmine heard, later, the most difficult part, of the whole caper, was DRAGGING the woman away from her lover, once the goods were gone. Now, its seems that (the groom) had presented an undercover cop, with a necklace, from the robbery, in the hope of trading the jewelry for sex. Jasmine was only being brought in, due to her PAST, criminal, record. As Jasmine admitted, to me, once she realized we were a couple, she been arrested, for drug use, years ago. While Jasmine had been ready to admit to Marijuana use, what had surprised even Jasmine, was when test results came back "positive", for cocaine use. While Jasmine said she was TOLD that, when found, she was "out of it", all that Jasmine would admit to was attending the party, drinking a couple of beers, doing some "weed", then waking up, in jail. While Jasmine would be sentenced, to two years, for use, Jasmine won "early release", by going to work in the prison offices. After just six months, behind bars, the warden had written the state board "Keeping (Jasmine) locked up is a waste, of money, space, beds, and food. Jasmine is no more a "threat", to society, than my dog is." After early release, while Jasmine agreed that her parole officer did not like her, to begin with, what annoyed the officer, the most, was the following: First, when the regular secretary fell sick, and the P.O. TRIED to run the office, themselves. The place was worse than a madhouse. When Jasmine agreed to assist, until the secretary was recovered, she did not realize it but the P.O. was chopping off two months, from Jasmines probation, for every month Jasmine worked, in the office. The reason why the P.O. eventually removed Jasmines anklet was because, seven, of the nine, times, when the device chirped "parole violation", Jasmine was IN the P.O.'s office, doing her work. The other two times, Jasmine was buying groceries, for the office. It became obvious that someone was "fooling with" the system when, all nine times, the anklet reported Jasmine "jumping state lines". When the regular secretary returned to work, the P.O. terminated Jasmines parole, saying "You've EARNED it. NOW, DONT make me look like a FOOL" Jasmine was, now, YEARS beyond this time, when the heist took place. The problem, which the police had, with the statements, from those, involved, in the theft, was how ONLY (the groom) insisted that Jasmine had played a part, in the actual heist. All nine, of the other suspects, stated that all Jasmine had done was remind the group, both about security, and about the kind of woman, the guard liked. Ten people told ONE story. ONE person told another story. When questioned, Jasmine told the police "I only mentioned security since no business is without a system, nowadays." When asked HOW she knew, about the guard, Jasmine told the police "I dated his brother. This is when he told me of his favorite kind of woman." As it turns out, the "connection", between Jasmine, and the crime, was so "thin" that a puff, of wind, would make it vanish. Jasmine only learned about the guard, when we saw him, maybe two months later. While Jasmine and I noticed how the man said "I wish it had been you. My job, definitely, would have been worth you." He, then, told us how the sista had made him feel so good that he had passed out. When he woke up, later, it was to hear his boss saying "Clean up, pack your things, and go. Youre fired." When the man asked Jasmine "Do you happen to know that girls name? She was so perfect. I want to thank her." Jasmine only told the truth when she said "Sorry, no idea." When Jasmine DID meet the girl, later, the girl made Jasmine promise NOT to tell the guard who she was. When Jasmine had asked "Was he THAT BAD?" The girl would say "Worse, he was THAT GOOD." Her brother would say "Thats right. He MUST have been good, since we had to DRAG her off of him, and carry her clothes out, after the robbery." The girl only said "He was beautiful. I enjoyed it." Jasmine did not question this. Jasmine just focused her efforts, on giving me all the love that I wanted (and planning for our, potential, family). Any time Jasmine was asked what song represented our relationship, Jasmine never failed to list "Ebony and Ivory", by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF PEORIA ILLINOIS

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF PEORIA ILLINOIS While Ghost Ship Two was being "re-certified", by the air force, Tami and I received another surprise. While our own wages, and bonuses, COULD have purchased us whole FLEETS, of motor vehicles, we were surprised when an "unknown benefactor" produced two, brand new, vehicles. According to th "benefactor", there was no WAY we could have known, about the computer tampering. Besides, it was a Hollywood back lot, and not the real White House, which had been attacked. Still, our pilots were triple-checking all systems, even as the Pentagon was. This, even as Tami had asked Mr. Brown to do some "background", on the planes computer programmers. While computer programmers could be rude, to the max, with people, who did not understand the electronic world, I had to agree, with Tami, that it just seemed "bizzarre" that an entire group, or "collective", of computer programmers just "died". Add in the fact that, while Tami had run what was left, of the programmers backgrounds, even as I searched, in vane, for the peoples graves. While I agreed with the Pentagon, that "people die, evereyday", when I asked "That may be true, in battle, but an entire group, of computer programmers? How often do computer programmers just drop dead?" When my partner turned up less than "little", in the files, then Tami began trying to make contact, with the programmers next of kin, even I was surprised when the response was a very polite "But OUT!". When Tami asked "May I ask why?" the message was "Ma'am, you have your youth, beauty, a fine plane, and a successful career. Why not enjoy it?" Thankfully, Tami took the message as I did. Besides, as I reminded my partner. "We are not on the clock. This is NOT our case. Lets get back to what we are PAID to do." Once the air force declared G.S.2 to be "flight safe", we would, no-sooner, be on our way, back to our base, when Mr. Brown vid-linked with us. I just found it odd how Mr. Brown was referencing streets, and businesses, in the town where I grew up. When Tami, who grew up, in another town, would say "I have, never, heard of these places. Where are they?" I would ask "Sir, WHY are you referencing my birth place?" When Tami would ask "Birth place? I thought you were from..." I would correct my partner, saying "I have only lived in that city since I was eighteen years old. Originally, I was born, in Peoria, then spent a few years, growing up, in a small town, just outside of East Peoria. Due to "family problems", my mother moved my sisters, and myself, BACK to Peoria, where I finished grade school, and took a year, of junior high school." When Tami would ask "Since WHEN does ANY school have just one year, of junior high?" I would say "The story students were told was that Peoria was "phasing out" junior high. As a result, the transitional phase, of junior high, between grade school, and high school, was being "phased out", due to budget needs. Even though the building was recognized, as junior high school, the school board "destroyed" our advancement, by insisting that grade schoolers be admitted, while more senior students were ordered to "forget our status". I wont bore you, with the rest, except to say that, by the time I reached high school age, the "animals" I attended class with, were only interested in savagely beating any student, whom the "animals" believed was "different". When Tami would suggest "Let me guess. YOU were "different." I would agree "Since all I wanted was to be left, in peace, to study, and graduate, my "class-mates" decided that I had no right to live. Of course, faculty REFUSED to get involved, insisting the barbarism was just a "right of passage". This is why, once old enough, I quit high school, and went into adult education". When Mr. Brown would ask "Before you re-located, wasn't there some "trouble", between a businessman, and a land developer?" I would say "Sure, BIG money land developer comes to town. Starts ripping out the historic buildings. Rips out downtown theaters, while building REMOTE theater complexes. " When Mr. Brown would ask "Was this BEFORE, or AFTER Caterpillar Tractor, and Keystone, packed up, and left, closing down plants, and laying off hundreds of workers?" I would say "About the same time. About the same time the land developer ripped out the downtown, then built his own version, of the twin towers." When Mr. Brown would ask "Wasn't there a fire, at some place called "Jumers"?" I would correct Mr. Brown, saying "The fire, which burned part, of Jumers Castle Lodge, was, maybe, in 1975. The property was restored LONG before the downtown was torn apart. This was, also, LONG BEFORE "Cat" left town, as well." When Mr. Brown would ask "Did you, ever, hear ghost stories, or SEE anything, unusual, during those years?" I would say "Sir, with Peoria's PAST, I could fill a dictionary, with all the stories I heard, and things I THOUGHT I saw. Remember, Peoria has a PAST, which digs DEEP, into state history." When Mr. Brown would ask "Just HOW deep?" I would mention "The last time I visited the Peoria Public Library, there was, still, a statue, of an owl, which was perched, I THINK, inside a stairwell." When Mr. Brown would ask "WHO would place a statue inside a stairwell?" I would say "Sir, last time I was there, the public library had windows, in the stairwell. If I remember, correctly, a plaque, below the owl, stated that the owl had rested atop a previous library." When Tami joked "Next thing I know, you are going to say you remember the days, of cardboard "date due" cards, for library books." I would continue with "As a matter of fact, smarty, I remember the days when library CARDS were made of cardboard, and the users name was TYPED on the card." When Tami would ask "I'll bet that was "fun", for the laser readers." I would ask "What lasers? When we checked out books, our library user cards had a tiny piece, of numbered metal, in one corner. Each time a book was checked out, the cardboard card was slid into a machine, which made a "clunk" sound. The cardboard "date due" slip was, then, slipped into the book." When Tami would ask "HOW did they manage with C.D.'s, and D.V.D.'s?" I reminded my partner "At THAT time, neither of these existed. VHS was ONLY for the super-RICH, and music was on vinyl 45's, and 33 1/3." It was right as Tami was asking "Did you have electric street lights, or were the street lights still gas-powered?" This is when Mr. Berown would say "I hate to interrupt, but there IS a REAL case file, in development, here. I was hoping that, since YOU came from that city, you might have a better chance, of finding out if a haunting is real." I would have to remind Mr. Brown "With very few exceptions, Peoria is a completely different city, now, than what it was, as late as 1982." When Mr. Brown would ask "For example?" I would suggest "For starters, Sears riverfront store is gone. The old, waterfront, power generating station, has been replaced with a Walmart. And old bridge, which used to raise, and lower its "arms", like a drawbridge, to allow passage, of bargages, is gone. Its official name was "Franklin Street Bridge". Locals referred to it as the "Granny Franklin". "Last time I visited, even Tyng School had chopped a massive amount, of the old playground, for more classrooms spaces." When Mr. Brown would say "Fair enough. You haven't lived there, in awhile. Still, you know more, about the area, than others do." When I asked "Like what? That the street lights, along West Moss Avenue, in the high class part of town, still used gas flame, after dark? That Jumers managed to salvage several suits, of armor, from a fire, and re-mount the "sentries" to th sides, of the buildings?" When Mr. Brown would ask "Do you remember the drive-in's, along University Avenue?" When I would say "None that I remember, on University. The Peoria Drive In used to be just two blocks WEST, of University." When Mr. Brown would ask "Do you remember any OTHER drive ins, in the general area?" I would say "If I remember, correctly, the next closest drive ins were the "Belleview", and the "Pioneer". These were located on War Memorial Drive, not along University." When Tami would ask "What kind of movies did the drive-ins show, back then?" I would inform my partner "Until around 1977, the Belleview showed family movies. Then, the drive in switched to showing porn. Maybe a mile, beyond the Belleview, was the "family drive in" The Pioneer". To my recall, the Pioneer lasted until VHS came into blue collar homes. Belleview closed down sometime earlier." When Mr. Brown would ask "About WHERE, in Peoria, were the Belleview, and Pioneer, located?" I would say "Thats easy. War Memorial Drive, out beyond Northwoods Mall." When Mr. Brown would say "I dont understand. The file states that the "Star-Lite" is located just beyond Northwoods Mall, on War Memorial Drive." I would say "Trust me, boss. The Star-Lite is, or atleast, WAS, located WEST of East Peoria, past Twin Lakes swim center, and just before entering Pekin. The Star-Lite was, NEVER in Peoria. I would bet every penny I have, on that." Mr. Brown would say "If that is correct, I wonder WHY a piece of land, inside Peoria, is being refered to as "Star-Lite"?" I would suggest "Maybe, someone was feeling nostalgic." This is when Tami would ask "Whats the case?" Mr. Brown would say "Some clients are looking into some derelict land, and are considering developing it into their own version of the "Star-Lite". When I would ask "What for? D.V.D.'s have all-but-destroyed the drive-in experience." Mr. Brown would say "While I trust your memory, and background, I am sending coordinates, along with a case file. See if you can make any sense of it." As G.S.2 coasted over the city, where I had grown up, I found few, recognizable, landmarks. It, truly, seemed that my childhood home was "mutating" (For lack of a better word). While the land developers "twin towers", and the Pierre Marquette (which held the name Peoria Hilton, during my childhood) remained, I was, personally, not surprised when, via our wing camera's, I noticed that the civic center had, not surprisingly, been remodelled into an office building. The reason why this change had not surprised me was because the convention center, in our base town, had gone through major changes, just since the 1990's. For awhile, there had been auto shows, craft fairs, and concerts. All inside the weatherproof center. After awhile, however, some, local, churches had begun complaining, and petitioning the city, for more "family/Christian" oriented entertainment. These complaints came in, just as popular music, car shows, and so on, were, just, covering the convention centers operating costs. Now, while even I have my favorite, Gospel, music, the problem, which even the television show "American Idol" had, was having to learn, the hard way, was that religious music just doesn't "draw" listeners, as much as classic, soft, rock. Ironically, right about the time, when "American Idol" was presenting some of America's finest singing voices (People who had been raised, singing, in church choirs, then going on, to win this contest, even T.V. Guide had noted that, while contest winners had received recording contracts, the problem was content). These singers wanted to "Bring the Joy, of the Lord", to the listening public. The problem was that the listening public wanted soft rock, not church hymns, in daily life. As a result, record sales, of Gospel recordings, BARELY covered recording costs. In the case, of the convention center, in our base town, while the venue changed, from soft, and medium, rock, to Christian concerts, and prayer breakfasts, the centers operating revenue dropped far enough, into the "red", that the venue was changed, again. More recently, our local convention center had been offering a mixture of SOME Christian activities, along with an expanding bill, of more popular entertainment. As we coasted over Peoria's civic center-turned-office-building, I can only guess that "urban renewal" had not quite gone as planned. While I was a bit surprised to find the public library still standing, the area, surrounding the building was, noticably changed. So many, of the classic buildings, were gone. Replaced with parking lots. As to WHAT had "possessed" Peoria, to close off ANOTHER downtown street, changing a well-travelled road way (and one which travelled directly between St. Francis, and Methodist, Hospitals) into a public park, I have no clue. Of course, I never understood the reason why Fulton, between Jefferson, and Adams, had been closed off, in the late 1970's, first to become a parking lot, then to be dug up, and turned into a TINY park. I can only guess that the Peoria city council had its reasons. While it is true, that I spent most of my first 18 years in this city (and I had in-laws, in the area), the fact is, I had not LIVED in this city, for forty years. Even cruising over Main Street, as it curved its way up, a hillside, to Western Avenue, was changed. While the medical school remained, I could not help but notice that a two-story, doctors building, located just above the curve, had been replaced with another, tall, building. In fact, were it not for Bradley Universities classic buildings, I would not have recognized the area, at all. I would have suggested showing Tami the park known as Laura Bradley, but my "gut" told me that even parks were not safe, from "urban renewal". Instead, I gave the pilots directions, to turn north-west. This SHOULD have put us on course, for Northwoods Mall. I SHOULD have expected the mall to look much different. Much, of the parking lots, were gone, even as it appearred that the shopping mall had, also, "evolved" into an office building. Even the Montgomery Ward, and J.C. Penny, auto centers were gone, from the west side, of the mall. In their locations stood more video gaming. Cruising out of town, along War Memorial Drive, it took a few passes, to find the faint, weed-over-grown signs, for both drive ins. When Tami called up the computer records, she would say "Thats odd." When I asked "Whats odd?" Tami would say "According to these records, there is NO "Star-Lite", at this location. Both of these properties are listed as "abandoned"." When I asked Tami "Call up the coordinates, which Mr. Brown supplied." When she did, and the computer imposed them on a map, Tami would say "Thats odd. WHY would they want us to land on top of a parking deck?" I would say "Knowing the city council", as I, once, did, "they probably want to prove that helicopters can fly into town, drop off gamblers, then fly off." Turns out that I was WRONG, about this. DEAD WRONG. Once G.S.2 landed on the roof, of a parking deck, titled "The Dark Deck" (presumably due to its very DARK paint scheme), Tami and I were met with some very aged faces, of people I might have attended school with. A few girls, who might, at one time, have been the most popular, and most "beautiful" girls, in school, yet were, now showing the signs of age. Beautiful smiles were replaced, with business like looks. Smooth skin was, now, showing wear-and-tear. As for the few "men" I might have recognized, the strutting, muscular, creeps, who had made my school life a living nightmare (since I was "different") were, now, missing much of their hair and, where I had most of my muscle mass, in legs and shoulders, due to daily exercise, I doubt these men had even THOUGHT about exercise, in many years. It would seem, however, that I was not the only one with a memory. In fact, according to the "new" city council members: "We have enlisted YOUR aid, in particular, since some of us DO remember your ability to "see, outside the box". While some council members said they remembered me as the "shadow kid" (Someone who was afraid, of his own shadow, and REFUSING to FIGHT, to the DEATH, for his rights), others said "While speaking to my own children, about the recent trouble, I happened to remember that you, Jeffrey Sharpe, and Micheal Carrera, were among those, who kept to yourselves, and dreamed what most of us never considered." When one, very obese, man would say "I, STILL, say they was, and still are, nothing but a group of fagets", the main speaker would say "That will do! These are our guests. They are here to solve our problem." When Tami would ask "Just WHAT problem would that be?" The main speaker would say "We have, for lack of a better word, a "ghost problem", and we know of no other way to solve it, than to retain your services". When the fat man would say "Yeah, bring in a homo, to solve our problems." The main speaker would say "SIR! ONE more word, and you are OUT! Understood?" The fat man went silent. When Tami would ask "Just what KIND, or NATURE, of prohlem, are you plagued by?" Another speaker would say "You must, first, understand something. This town has been TRYING to hang on, since the 1980's. Everything from festivals, to gambling, to fairs, of every kind. While gambling is keeping us from going completely "under", the problem is that even gambling is not providing solid income. This is why we decided to try something new." When Tami would ask "Should I be afraid to ask?" The main speaker would suggest "When we learned, of a device, which allows paying customers to have actual conversations, with deceased persons, we, really, thought this would be a DRAW. People would come, spend money, talk to the dead, then pack up. We, never, planned for what happened." Another speaker would say "Thats for sure". When Tami would ask "Let me guess. You bought something, without KNOWING what it was. You had it installed, activated it, and now you dont know what to do with it. Maybe you dont understand the directions." The fat man would ask "WHAT directions. The creep, who sold us the junk NEVER gave us an owners manual." When Tami would ask "Let me get this straight. You buy something, to boost revenue, without knowing WHAT it is. You buy it from someone you dont even KNOW. Now, you are afraid to "pull the plug", since it will hurt revenues." The second speaker would ask "What plug? We spent DAYS trying to find out HOW the device is powered." Tami would try a new tact. "Okay, lets focus on the effects. WHAT, EXACTLY is the machine doing?" The main speaker would say "THAT is why we contacted your Mr. Brown. We dont know HOW, WHAT, or WHY, the machine is doing what it is doing. All we know is that, anytime some one asks about a person, the machine seems to DRAW the spirit to the area." When I would suggest "Why not reverse the controls?" The same answers came: "What controls? We cant find a control console, anywhere on the device." When Tami would ask "HOW did the inventor turn it on?" and the city council said "The man insisted upon secrecy. He would not install it, with anyone present." When Tami would ask "Without even an electrician present, to make sure all connnections were correct?" The main speaker would say "The man INSISTED upon it." then added "We have, already, called in an electrician and they cannot figure the machine out, either." When Tami and I stepped outside, for some air, and Tami asked me "HOW could they be so stupid? Buying something they dont understand? From someone they dont even know, and all on the vague "hope" of generating income?" I would remind my partner "You know, as well as I do, that Illinois is DETERMINED to be financed by GAMBLING "revenue", rather than manufacturing jobs. We, BOTH, know that the state has no intention of allowing manufacturing to return. What other "choice" do Illinois cities have? Without the service industry, what "future" does the state have?" (This is when I remembered a 1970's bumper sticker, which stated "Will the last person, to leave Peoria please/remember to turn out the lights?") For over forty years, the state had tried everything, possible, to stay on the map. Everything, that is, except the one thing the state REFUSED to do. Creating manufacturing jobs. Now, my partner and I had been summoned to "fix" the latest problem. After spending some more time, with the city council, including giving false assurances, that the matter was "well, in hand", that Tami and I took a stroll, in what is left of Downtown Peoria. So MANY, of the businesses I had grown up around. Places I never thought would go anywhere. Businesses, which had been a century old, before I was born. All GONE. The "new" downtown was as "alien" to me, as would be the Martian landscape. Almost NOTHING remained. Taking a walk, up Main Street, I remain amazed that the Madison Theater has not, long since, been bulldozed. (Seeing as how the theater dated from the days of vaudeville, when performers did live acts.) I was surprised to see the ancient sign, still, remaining over the ticket booth. When Tami asked "What does "Air Cooled" mean?" I told her "That is from the days before air conditioning. coolers, and fans, blew cool air, into the theater." When Tami asked "Did they, REALLY, have live plays, on the screen, in the days before movies?" I would say "Last time I was inside, the stairs, leading up to the stage, remained. The movie projection screen was set into the rear of the stage." When Tami would ask "A REAL STAGE. A stage, on which people performed?" I would say "Just like in the movie called "The Sting."" Ofcourse, Tami, being a twentieth century woman could, barely, conceive, of what life had been like, so long ago. Ofcourse, even I was a child, in the days, when theater marquees had "rolling", "flashing" lights, to announce what was playing. The days, when downtown Peoria was "alive", with shops, restaurants, and the streets were safe to walk. When Tami would ask "Are the rumors true, that city busses useed to "stack up", at quitting time, for that place called "Cat". I would correct my partner, saying "While Caterpillar did run a couple of shuttle busses, from their East Peoria plant, to the old Bergners, on Adams street, the busses were, never, "stacked". At shift change time, in the afternoon, the busses would "LINE UP", in a row, along the store fronts, then the shuttle bussees, from Cat, would drop off workers, who would, then, transfer to other lines, to ride home." When Tami would say "Sounds like a "mad house". I would say "Adams Street was NOTHING coompared to what plants KK, LL, MM, and so on, were like, at shift change. These workers, who wanted to avoid the "exodus" ran out of the plant, first, got in their cars, and sped away." When Tami asked "And the rest?" I would say "For the rest of the work-force, it was stop-and-go. Maybe as much as an hour, to make a fifteen minute trip." It was as we were approaching the library that Tami asked "I wonder WHY the city council REALLY chose the Brown Agency? There must be other, qualified, agencies, out there." This is when another, female, voice would join us, saying "I wouldn't say that." When Tami would turn, to the voice, and saw a woman, dressed in 18th century clothes, and asking "And you are?" The woman would say "I am, or rather, I WAS, the Lady DeWinter." When Tami would ask "If you are 18th century, French, royalty, then WHAT are you doing, in the continental United States?" When the Lady DeWinter would ask "You mean, what am I doing, in the 21st century?" Tami would say "That, too." The Lady DeWinter would say "It seems I have some decendants, hereabouts. As for HOW I got here, you can blame that contraption." When I would suggest "The ghost machine?" The Lady DeWinter would say "More like a ghost TRAP. I cannot return to my beloved, until that THING is dealt with." It was when Tami would ask "Are we the FIRST, that Peoria has contacted, with this problem?" This time the answer came from a rather proper, English, butler. A man who, in proper English would say "Heavens, no, my good lady. In fact, you are, probably, the eleventh, or twelvth group the humans contacted." When Tami would ask "Now, I am curious. WHY did the city decide to contact us?" The Lady DeWinter would say "Twas not the mortals idea." The butler would add "After weeks, of other "mediums", trying this and that, it was we, the spirits, who "encouraged" the city council, to seek out YOUR services." This is when a third spirit, that of a blacksmith, would add "You see, young lady, your reputation proceeds you, even in THIS place." The butler would add "Yes, the Chairman gives you some of the highest recommendation." The Lady DeWinter would add "It DID take a few dreams, during sleep, but we convinced the humans to undertake your services." Well, now we know WHY we were summoned. The question was "WHAT do we do?" Tami knew what her job would be. Processing the souls, for return to where they came from. I just never realized that there were so many French, Swiss, and Germans, among Peoria's population. MY job would be the real headache. It would be MY job, to figure out HOW the machine worked, and, more importantly, HOW to shut it OFF! I had thought back, to our original meeting, with the city council, and how a council member had said "If it were that simple, we would have pulled the plug, long before now." Tami would have the delightful task, of reporting, to the Brown Agency that "Yes, we have made contact. It seems the city bought a "gizmo", with which they hoped to increase tourism. The problem is, the city council never asked for, nor received, an owners manual. Result, my partner is working, basically, "in the dark", trying to figure out how to turn the machine off." (It should, also, be noted that it was NOT the humans, who proposed calling us in. It seems that the spirits made it clear that, either the city call US in, or the spirits would make every night, in Peoria Illinois, a combination of Halloween, and the worst nightmare movies, ever made.) Question: What if we can NOT find the off-switch, on the "gizmo"? When Mr. Black would say "No problem. Just e-mail me the schematics, and I will have an answer, within 24 hours." This is when Tami would have to inform Mr. Black "Sorry, sir, but this device has NO schematics, that we know of. I dont even know if blue-prints even exist." Mr. Black would say "In that case, its time to go 3-D. Use your optical camera's, and get "up close and personal" with the device." When Tami would ask "Do you think its safe?" Mr. Black woulld say "Who knows? I can not say until I see what it looks like." Even as I was looking for the power cord, Tami would hand me the optical camera's, saying "Mr.. Black wants images to look at. He says that, if we want his help, he needs to know what this thing looks like." Swell! Now I was on double-duty. Both looking for an OFF switch, AND now, I am scanning, as well. I shouldn't complain, though, since Tami was dealing with the soul, of an irate man. His anger was because his grand-daughter was schedule to give the Chairman a recital, the following night, and the man wanted to be present, when the girl performed. Lady DeWinter wanted to return to her husband, and the blacksmith said "I left my boy, all alone, to tend the shop." And these were just a few, of the dozens, of souls, which the "gizmo" had drawn to Peoria. When I could not find a power source anywhere, I was about to give up, asking "Where is an electrician when I need one?" When a new voice would say "Why, I am right here, young man. All you needed to do was ASK for help." When I asked the spirit "Okay, as an electrician, WHAT would be YOUR first step, in turning this thing off." The electrician would say "Thats easy. First, we turn it ON. All the way on. Then we see what it does. Get your meters out, since I only have my own tools." I figured that I had nothing to lose, especially since the images, that I sent, to Mr. Black, were useless, with this tech. All the scanners picked up were fuzzy blobs. While it took even the master electrician almost two hours, to find the power switch, when he turned the power up, to measurable levels, this had a most un-desirable side effect. We, actually, WATCHED what must have been the very painful act, of spirits, being pulled/yanked from their rest, by this machine. Even after we measured the power, and the electrician tried reversing the power, the souls remained trapped. It was when a magicians spirit appearred, suggesting "While I am stuck here, why dont I pay the inventor a "visit". Maybe I can "encourage" the man to assist us." When I asked the spirit "HOW do you know it is a man?" The magician would say "Young man, even I, a thirteenth century magician, can tell the difference between a man and a woman." When the butler would say "Please hurry. I have pressing duties to perform." The magician would say "Be right back." Twelve hours later, I was ready to rip the "gizmo" to pieces, when the magician returned, saying "The man claims to have no clue, about the machine. He, even, seems amazed that the device works. He has, however, made an offer, for re-purchase." This is when I would ask "Wait a minute. He says he has NO idea HOW the machine works, yet he wants to buy it back?" The magician would say "In a nut-shell. WHY?" I would suggest "IF he does not know HOW, or even IF, the machine works, WHY is he willing to buy it back?" When the Lady DeWinter would say "Who CARES? I just want to return to my rest." The other spirits would come around to my way of thinking. While the spirits were having their own "conference", about the matter, the electrician, and I, would be pulling up the floor, around the machine, until we found what we were looking for. The spirit would, then, tell me what tools I would need. Since I was the only mortal, and the machine rested in mortal space, I was "elected" to de-activate the device. Even with power tools, it was a laborous task. The breakers were industrial, and capable of carrying enough voltage, to send ME to the spirit world. Even after the power was cut, the electrician would say "Now, we have to let the energy dissipate, from the device. Only then can we "go home"." Since no one told anyone, that this thing had a two day battery, Tami had plenty of time for farewells, as the spirits prepared to return to their rest. It was during this time, when I, finally, had a "heart-to-heart", with my own father. Not father to son, but man-to-man. This, thanks to the electrician, and the butler. While my father would admit "I was not much of a father." I would admit "I was not much of a son." I would ask "HOW did we let my mother cut the family to pieces, like that?" The man would say "Son, you were just a child. You had no way of knowing. Besides, what child does NOT trust their own mother." I think that what "spooked" Tami was how similar my father and I were, in appearrance. I THOUGHT I had mentioned the family trait, to her, YEARS AGO. For some, unknown, reason, the first son, in each generation, is the exact likeness, of the father. By the time the souls were processed, Tami had asked "Might we visit YOUR high school?" When I asked "What for?" Tami would say "I am curious, about where you came from." After I gave our pilots the coordinates, of Woodruff, we were, soon, hovering over what I had, fully, expected to see. The ultra-violent Woodruff High School. The place were students were, openly violent, and deadly, towards one another, in my day, had a brand new use. Now, based upon the sign, mounted on the fence, Woodruff had, now, become a corrections facility. No longer a public school. Now, the center, for barbarity, had come to its true purpose. A corrections center. A place, where DISCIPLINE would be enforced. After this, we visited the housing sub-division, known as Lincoln Terrrace. I was not-at-all surprised to see the bulky, wooden, sign, announcing the name of the place, rotted down to just two, wooden stakes, in the ground. All that marked the entrance, now, was a simple, metal, stake, which held the street name "Wiswall Street". As for the play area's, I found it not surprising that all that remained, of the concrete benches, was their bottom platforms. As for the swing sets. Those crazy things, which were shaped, loosely, like soldiers, and other figures, each with one swing hanging from each arm. As we floated overhead, I was not surprised to see that only the footings remained. The swings long gone. So to was that ancient tree, at the top of the ridge, behind our old place. As for those wooden enclosures, where people stored their trash, until garbage day, these had "dissolved" into twigs, on the ground. The duplexes, of Wiswall Street, and Wiswall Court, had been built as cheap as possible. Whose knows what keeps the units standing. With a check, of local data bases, it would seem that Trewyns time, as a grade school did not last much beyond the time I was there. The data bases said that Peoria had HOPED to reduce costs, by closing an outdated school, and turning a junior high school, into a grade school. Problem was, the main drag, which was south, of Trewyn. A main drag, which was, almost, as busy as Jefferson and Adams. A main drag, where too many, young children had been injured, while trying to cross, to reach school. It seems that, after my family left the area, that irate citizens had ORDERED the school district to abandon the warehouse idea, and build a new, public, school. Trewyn would return to being a JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL. Still, with Caterpillar, Keystone, and other, industries, gone, the city was in steady decline. First, Tami, then myself, and, finally, Mr. Brown, were left to wonder what Peoria would try, next, to generate income. How FAR was a community willing to go, to provide for its people, while REFUSING to create manufacturing jobs? That, and the fact that Peoria had not, actually, returned the device to the owner. Instead, the device was at Bradley University, being studied by the electronics department. Mr. Brown seemed sincere when he cautioned us "Dont get too comfortable. We may have more work to do."

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF GHOST SHIP TWO

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF GHOST SHIP 2 After wrapping up the Mystery of the Gold, Ghost Ship 2 had just stopped off, for some "minor maintenance", and re-fuelling, when what SHOULD have been impossible, actually happened. It was while Tami and I were relaxing, with a tour, of the latest, in America's arsenal, of military bases, world-wide, that Tami and I found ourselves called to the Command-and-Control center. WHY was a question, which we, both, wanted the answer to. Funny thing was, on the way to command, Tami and I observed a stealth bomber, taking off, from a camoflauged runway. When Tami would remark "Isn't it amazing how similar that plane is, to ours." I would promise her "Relax, our pilots are under contract, to the Brown Agency. They would, never, leave us behind. That has to be ANOTHER, stealth bomber." When Tami would ask me "Just how MANY stealth bombers does America have?" I would suggest "By now, maybe 500. War-planes are shot down, everyday." It was only once inside the command center that Tami and I heard the base commander asking "Any word, yet?" When communications would say "No, sir. Either their radio is off, or they are ignoring us." When the base commander would say "Give them five minutes to respond, or shoot them down." When the weapons officer would say "Shoot them down?" and the commander would say "Thats right, target all weapons." When the weapons officer would say "There is no need to repeat the order. Target that plane." This is when weapons control would ask "Sir, HOW do we target a stealth bomber?" The commander was just saying "Lock comp..." when the man realized that radar wont lock onto stealth. It was when the commander would ask "Give me the names of the pilot, and co-pilot, of that plane." The personnel roster was just being brought up when our pilot would say "Sir, that would be us." When the base commander would say "Dont be in-subordinate. HOW can you be flying that plane, when you are here, in control?" Our co-pilot would say "THAT, sir, is the question, of the day." After that, our pilots would identify themselves, as retired air force, and the personnel officer would verify this. When the base commander would order "Scramble our F-18's. I want to know WHO is flying that plane." Both our pilots, and Tami and I would like the answer, as well. Our pilot would, only, caution the commander "Sir, have your pilots exercise extreme caution, at any distance closer that five miles." When the commander would ask "Soldier, WHY is that?" Our pilot would say "Five miles is the point where our on-board computers would run diagnostics, to determine friend-or-foe". When the base commander would ask "What weapons are you armed with?" Our pilot would say "Primary weapons are a 30-calibur chain-gun, on the port wing, and a 50-caluber chain-gun, on the starboard side." When the commander would ask "Explosives?" Our pilot would say "Two crates, of C-4, extra ammunition, for the guns." When the commander would ask "Ordinance?" The pilot would say "Nothing, for combat. Our plane is civilian." While this exchange was going on, the two F-18's had flown off, and were closing with G.S.2. When the commander would ask "Who is at the controls?" When the captain, flying the lead plane, would say "As far as I can see, there is NO one, in the cockpit." When the base commander turned to our pilots, asking "battle-control center?" Our co-pilot would say "Never installed. The plane was rejected, from the stealth program. It is not equipped, for battle." When the base commander would ask "IF it is not equipped, for battle, then HOW does it seem to be flying itself?" Our pilots only shrugged. It was common knowledge, among air force pilots, that planes were being programmed so that, IF a pilot were in-capacitated, the plane would return complete its assigned task, then to base, on "automatic". The problem was that this programming was limited to planes, which were accepted, by the air force. There was no reason to equip a reject, like G.S.2, with the same programs. It was not until the lead fighter plane tried to crowd G.S. 2 onto a new course, back to base, when a cry was heard, inside control, then an explosion. After this, the wing-man came on the radio, saying "Leader down. Request permission to open fire." When the base commander looked at our pilots, the men shook their heads. This, while telling the base commander "Only if you want to lose another plane." When the base commander would call out "Options?" The best that another could come up with was "Arrange mid-air re-fuelling, for the F-18, and keep the bomber in visual range, so we know where the renegade is going." When the base commander called to the F-18, asking "HOW did that plane take out your leader?" The shaken pilot would report "Starboard gun-turret. Blew the canopy, and shredded my commander." The base commander would say "Son, I want you to stay in visual, with the renegade. Do NOT approach. Re-fuelling is enroute. Repeat, Stay in visual contact, with renegade. Is that understood." The pilot would radio "Roger that. Remain in visual ops, but do NOT engage." After this, the base commander would order "Contact the Pentagon. I want to know EVERYTHING, about that plane." Communications would say "In work, now, sir." The commander would, then, turn to Tami, myself, and our pilots, suggesting "For the present, it would seem you are our guests." Tami and I, as well as our pilots, KNEW what Mr. Brown would say, to that. There would be no guess work. Mr. Brown's orders would be short, and simple. "You are on-the-clock. I want to know WHO has our plane, and why. You will be authorized, within the hour, to utilize all, available, military data banks." Tami and I knew that our boss was as good as his word. In fact, within the hour, not only did Tami and I have full access, to everything, known, about Ghost Ship 2, but our pilots were, actively, working, with the air force, to determine what could be done, about our plane. IF it were possible, everyone wanted the plane returned, in a single piece. Sure, it was a stealth reject, and, yes, the plane was worth several hundred million tax-payer dollars, but the main question, which everyone wanted the answer to was HOW the planes computers could have been "hijacked". In fact, by the time Tami and I had access, the Pentagon had grounded ALL of America's stealth fighters, and bombers. No, computer-assisted, plane was going airborne, until the ship could be trusted. What neither the pursuit pilot, nor an air force mid-air re-fueller, could understand was HOW G.S.2 managed to take on fuel, from the same plane, which had just re-fuelled the F-18. It was just after the fighter craft was re-fuelled, and the fuel plane was preparing to turn away, when the fuel planes crew found their plane non-responsive, to human input. The F-18 pilot would report, to base, "Renegade attempting to take on fuel." and was just about to report "Fuel plane denying access", when the F-18 watched as the red, rejected light, on thee fuel probe turned green. Moments later, the fuel plane crew would radio "Renegade has overridden our codes. Estimate ten seconds to full tanks." About the only "good" news, which Tami and I had, for Mr. Brown, was that, so long as pursuit craft did not make hostile moves, Ghost Ship Two seemed not to object to having "company". Still, Tami and I were working our way, through Pentagon files, looking for possible hackers, when our pilot asked "Do we know who designed, built, and programmed, our plane?" It would come as NO surprise that the bomber had been built by America's largest, well-known, and highly respected, plane designers. A company, which housed more secrets, than Area 51. According to company records, however, while the company had designed, and built, the plane, its programming had come from an "outside source". This, is an incredibly stupid attempt, at cutting costs, by "outsourcing" the work. It was not, however, until air force personnel, and my partner, attempted to find out WHO the software engineer had been, that, it seems, we "tripped" some kind of "alarm". This presented a message, saying "In-competent war-mongerers, by now you understand that you no-longer control your war machine. **I** control this device, now. As to the reason why? That is simple. This flight program was designed, for peaceful aircraft, such as relief supplies delivery. It is YOU who have perverted this purpose, by turning our humanitarian gesture into a device of murder. As a result, this device, of lethal destruction, will, now, be turned on your OWN doorsteps. You will have twenty-four hours to consider the consequences, of your actions." When our co-pilot would ask "What device of destruction? Ours is a civilian aircraft. We could not bomb anything, even if we WANTED to." This is when Tami had a terrible thought. "Our airborne garage." When our co-pilot would ask "What about it?" Tami would ask "Wasn't that space, originally, designed as a bomb bay?" Our pilot would say "Ma'am, you seem to have forgotten. All of the bomb components were pulled out, when you accepted the plane. All thats left, in that compartment are your car, and his Jeep." This is when I would ask "Does the ships programming KNOW that?" All anyone could do was shrug. When I would ask "How much damage might an automobile, and a Jeep, do, if dumped, from altitude?" It seems that, again, no one had a clue. This, since, it seems that no one considered dropping motor vehicles, from altitude. When Tami would suggest "Why not contact the programs designers, and have them just take out the errant programming?" The base commander would say "No can do." When I asked "Why not?" The base commander would say "As soon as this "snafu" showed up, we called up the programmers records. In case we needed them to de-bug the system." When Tami would say "Makes sense, you would keep track, of your programmers." The base commander would say "Bad news is, the programmers are, ALL, dead." When Tami would ask "HOW is that possible?" The base commander would say "Checking on that, right now." I would suggest "Just how recently DID the programmers die?" The base commander would say "Records say three years ago." I had, barely, said "No connection, then.", when a military, computer, programmer, would suggest "A delayed action timer." When the base commander would ask "A three YEAR timer?" The computer programmer would suggest "In theory, a computer program may be set decades, in advance." Tami would ask "You mean, our plane was set to go "rogue", even BEFORE we accepted it?" The programmer would say "It seems so." This is when our pilot would ask the programmer "Would it be possible to program the gun turrets, to fire, automatically?" The programmer would suggest "IF the computer was programmed to believe that a force was hostile, the computer would have no problem, taking the target out." When Tami would ask our pilot "What are you suggesting?" The man would say "Suppose the plane "dumped" items, located in its weapons bay, on the White House, or Capital Hill, then was programmed to "take out" anyone, trying to get away, from the attack?" Our co-pilot would say "Man, those guns are loaded with thousands of rounds, of ammo. Granted, your motor vehicles would be destroyed, on impact, but the plane is programmed for very low level flight." The base commander would ask "How MANY innocents could those guns "take out"?" Our co-pilot would say "Maybe 2,000." When the suggestion was made, to "take out" G.S.2, with missiles, the air crew would say "No good. Stealth is programmed against such attacks." In fact, the closest thing, that any one came up with, to an actual idea, was to try and "scramble" the planes guidance, using AWAC's, then trick the plane into "attacking" a "city", of military choosing. A "city", such as a Hollywood back-lot, where television, and movies, were filmed. The "plan" was to steer G.S.2 towards a small-scale model, of Washington D.C., and let the plane expend its "ordinance". Once this was done, the programming SHOULD come to an end (along with our automobiles). It is just a very fortunate thing, that AWAC's can jam signals, from 200 miles away. As a result, even when G.S.2's computers sensed the alterations, our gun turrets were useless, on such a distant target. With four AWAC's planes, working together, G.S. 2 was re-directed, to what it THOUGHT was the East Coast, and the White House. From a cruising altitude, of 5,000 feet, the computer dumped our motor vehicles, on the Oval Office. While the impact flattened our vehicles, like pancakes, the "White House" sustained very little damage. After "bombing" the White House, G.S. 2 deployed its gun turrets, just as expected, and "took out" any, moving, objects, which were detected. Hollywood special effects had been most creative, in creating the illusion, of movement, for the guns to lock on to. It may have taken half an hour, for G.S.2 to use up its "ordinance", but the plan worked. By the time the guns ran out of ammo, and the plane ran out of fuel, when the computers found no fuel planes, the plane used its last drops, of fuel, to land, at L.A.X. While our pilots had, originally, been assurred that ALL military protocols had been erased, prior to G.S.2 being released, for our use, this time, both of our pilots stood by, as every memory chip, and bit, of data, were wiped, from the ships core. While our pilots were overseeing the "rehabilitation", of our planes computers, Tami and I were dealing with another mystery. The mystery of WHY, while the computer programmers were listed as "Deceased", that there were no records, of burials, head-stones, or locations, of markers. It was as if, one day, the programmers were alive, and the next day, they just did not exist. When Tami asked the military programmers about codes, called "back-doors", everyone, involved, promised that any "back doors", into our planes computers, no-longer existed. Our machine was a "blank-slate", ready to be re-programmed. The Brown Agency WAS able to learn the reason why the programmers had been so passionate, about the use, of their work. It seems that, on one project, the programmers had been paid, to write code, to keep things OUT of a system. When the programmers learned that the code had been turned "inside out", and used to keep PEOPLE inside, and that, when people had tried to leave, the program had shut off all ventilation, suffocating those trapped inside. Once the programmers learned that their program had killed innocent people, they had turned to writing codes, to protect the public, from such abuses. What Mr Black found odd was the fact that the programmers had "vanished", shortly after creating a program, which would allow users to scan incoming calls, for listening devices. Coincidental? As for the Hollywood set, and our motor vehicles, some, of Mr. Browns, anonymous, clients seemed happy to cover all of the costs. About the ONLY part, of the re-fit, which our pilots did NOT find funny was when our replacement ammunition arrived. Our pilot WOULD have signed off, on the shipment, untill he read "Depleted Uranium". When the retiree would ask "Since WHEN does the air force allow civilians access to depleted uranium?" While th air force quartermaster laughed, saying "Just checking, to see if you are awake." Our pilot would say "Save the jokes, for food stores, and fuel."

BICYCLE THEFT PREVENTION

HOW ONE CITY BROUGHT AN END TO BICYCLE THEFT For far too many years, bicycle owners, and their families, had been resigned to pay out as much as $5,000, per year, to replace stolen bicycles, and parts. This was due to the fact that bicycle thieves KNEW, from YEARS, of experience, that local police could not care, LESS, about the theft, of personal property. Thieves KNEW that, all the police did, each time a bicycle was stolen, was to file a memo, stating where, and from whom, the bicycle was stolen. Since a device, known as Lo-Jack, was only available, for motor vehicles, there seemed to be NO local effort, to recover stolen bicycles. That is, until an irate bicycle owner, who had MULTIPLE bicycles stolen, in a single month, dared to challenge "law enforcement", by placing a question on the internet. The question would be: "While it is well-known, that beeper-style tracking devices may be attached, to radios, cell-phones, and laptop computers, and that such devices will emit a "beeping" tone, if mis-placed, I am looking for a device which, instead of "beeping", will display, on a smart-phone screen, for example: "Current location (of tracking device): 809 S. Wiswall Court, Peoria Illinois." When the best response, to this question, was "try a cat/dog tracker" At first, only one, crime, victim, would have this installed, on their bicycle. (Other bicycle owners were skeptical that police would even devote time/effort, to bicycle recovery.) Only after the tracker-equipped bicycle was stolen, twice: Once, as a gift, for a child Second, out of revenge, for parent and child, being arrested, and prosecuted, for the bicycle theft That the local media would post an article, which infuriated the police. It would seem that the theft victim had started a letter-writing campaign, asking local department stores, and bicycle sales shops, to begin selling "tracker-equipped bicycles". While department stores declined the suggestion, even posting signs, on bicycle sales displays, stating "Bicycles are NOT tracker equipped." Followed by the names, of bicycle shops, where bicycle owners could have trackers installed. When the media would ask why the department stores were declining to sell "tracker-equipped" bicycles, the department stores were unanimous in saying "We cannot afford to sell, at discount prices, if we add electronic tracking, to bicycles." When local bicycle shops were interviewed, however, staff would inform the media that "At present, there is a three week wait", due to the fact that bike shops had to wait until trackers were delivered. To the horror, of local police, first one, then fifty, then 250, tracker-equipped bicycles were stolen. Police were compelled to re-assign officers, to retrieve the stolen property. Soon, however, the use, of tracking, resulted in the media reporting that the theft, of bicycles, had decreased, by 85%, even as twelve, seperate, bicycle theft rings were shut-down, with staff arrested. Since state prisons were, already, over-crowded, courts decided to have thieves serve time, using ankle trackers. Ofcourse, this meant that parole officers were required to increase the size, of staffs, to accomodate thieves, who just did not CARE, about the law. Atleast 25 such people were required to be transported to out-of-state prisons. This especially after using very profane language, in court, to inform judges "I dont CARE! If I want a bicycle. I AM taking it." Soon, first a city, then an entire county, then an entire state, would earn the title of "Safest place to own a bicycle." When the plans originator would be questioned, by the media, about the apparent "Racism", of only arresting Negroes, for bicycle theft, the plan originator would re-state the question, more correctly. "It is my belief that these arrests are NOT "racial". It is my belief that, as trackers have been installed, on bicycles, that white thieves "saw the writing, on the wall", and switched, most likely, to snatching purses, wallets, and even jewelry." The remaining thieves, probably, thought they could use "Racial Discrimination", to beat sentencing. This is why these people were on their way, to prison sentences. Eventually, even the department stores "saw the wisdom", of marking bicycle displays as "Each bicycle, in this store, is electronically, tracked". What the city police were, only marginally, happy about, was when stores began providing police departments with lists, of tracker numbers, as well as owners names, and addresses. What this meant was that, instead of victims having to call law enforcement, and PROVIDE tracker information, owners could call police, give names, and addresses, and police could begin tracking stolen bicycles, immediately. Result: The first, of the continental forty-eight states, would make tracking a part of every bicycle sold. Result: Career theives would be required to move on, to other kinds of theft. With Lo-Jack tracking 75% of American cars, and bicycle trackers, tracking just as many bicycles, the life, of criminals, was becoming more difficult, than ever. Ofcourse, bicycle tracking not only all but eliminated bicycle theft, however, on several occassions, where cyclists were injured, trackers would be used to locate the injured, hours faster the injured would, otherwise, be located.