Cover-up ...Conspiracy of Silence
—Anthony T. Hincks
I’m an archeologist, not a political activist—Having said that, I still think I need a course in intellectual self-defence.
I feel a fool—I’m convinced I’ve been duped my whole academic career—not just misinformed, but deliberately misled.
The people who do this really know their stuff. They know who they’re stuffing and believe me, they do it elegantly.
I’m not into conspiracy theories—I think our footprints are on the Moon. I’m just not so sure my own feet are touching terra firma.
I think the view of human civilization I’ve been given is a fabrication and hence, for all my learning and the belief that I’m a grounded-in-facts conservative academic—my two feet are in fact, firmly planted in mid-air!
I should start at the beginning.
Damien Moshe contacted me out of the blue. We had been working together at Gobekli Tepe in southeastern Turkey and uncovered stone circles 7,000 years older than Stonehenge. The discovery really upset Damien.
“C’mon Mark—you know these ruins are older than our view of history allows.”
“You’re right—it doesn’t seem to make sense does it?”
“I wonder what else we got wrong?”
I was a little less suspicious than he. “So, we screwed up our chronology a bit. We figured, Stone Age people were just hunter-gatherers. My bad.”
“Don’t be so cavalier. This is not just an Oops! This is significant. You can only see what you’re looking for. We’ve been wearing blinders—what else have we missed?”
I sighed. Damien did have a tendency to over-dramatize and the truth was I had just secured a teaching post at Princeton and was in no mood to rock the boat.
“So what are you going to do Damien—go off tilting at windmills?”
“Yes—academic ones—windmills of the mind, if you like.”
“Well, lots of luck with that.”
“I take it you’re going to be a settled academic—smoke your pipe and grow your paunch and to hell with the romance of ideas.”
“If you asking me to play Sancho Panza to your Don Quixote, the answer is no. You’ll have to attack those ferocious academic giants all by yourself, my friend.”
“And attack them, I will. Just answer me one thing, Mark—if I ever contact you with proof, will you be promise to listen?”
I clapped him good-naturedly on the back. “Of that, I can assure you, my friend—my ears and my heart will always be open to you.”
So, a short time later, here I was, sitting across from him looking at Google Earth photos I just couldn’t believe.
“So, this is Antartica?”
“It is,” he smiled.
“And what the hell is this structure?”
I kept turning the printout to look at it from every angle—I wanted a magnifying glass—badly.
“That indeed is the question.”
“How did you learn about this?”
“I’ve been there.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Where—Antarctica? Are you telling me you’ve been to Antarctica?”
“I am.”
“How did you get there—or better yet, how did you afford it?”
“At the government’s expense. I work for them.”
“You—a civil servant? I don’t believe it.”
He chuckled. “Let’s put it this way—I’m a civil servant like a CIA agent is a civil servant.”
“Oh my God—Don’t tell me you’re working undercover!”
“Not quite—but I’m one of many private sector people working in black ops projects—except this one’s a lot more exciting than Area 51.”
“How the hell did you get mixed up in this?”
“You know with money laundering frauds how you follow the money trail? Well, with academic frauds there’s a funny trail—I figured out what we were taught wasn’t just erroneous facts—it was blowback from a deliberately orchestrated government program of domestic disinformation.”
I was taken aback.
I’m sure everyone’s believed a plausible-sounding news item only to later discover it was an Internet myth or cleverly constructed urban legend. I’m a natural skeptic and dubious at the best of times. I didn’t want to dismiss my friend, so I made up my mind to hear him out.
“Why would the government go to all this effort, not to mention expense, just to cover up facts?”
Damien wasn’t fazed by my question. In fact, it seemed to fire him up.
“Let me ask you a question, Mark. Why does the U.S. government spend more on the military than all the rest of the countries on Earth combined? We spend 776 billion not counting off-budget black-ops projects like mine and the 40+ billion we spend on intelligence.”
I whistled softly. It did seem excessive.
“Okay—I geeve—Why?”
“Because there’s some advantage to be gained. It’s been over eleven years since a roving spy satellite detected an apparatus or structure encased miles under the Antarctic ice.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this?”
“Because the military quashed the reports and the news media complied.”
I arched an eyebrow. “So, nobody other than you guys and the military knows about this?”
“Not quite. The EU knows about it. They figured we were constructing a base or something down there and violating the international Antarctic Treaty.”
“Are we?”
“Not by a long shot. The truth is a helluva lot more scary than that.”
Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the truth”
He didn't finch. “Let’s put it this way. The aide to the French president said, if it’s not a U.S. project then it’s something at least 12,000 years old because that’s how long ice has covered Antarctica.”
“Yeah, he’s right.”
“He’s right in more ways than one. It isn’t ours and it’s a lot older than 12,000 years.”
“So, why doesn’t the Pentagon release what it’s hiding?”
“Why? Because it’s not Neolithic like Gobekli Tepe. Hell, Mark—I’ve been there and it’s not even human.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s an artificial structure made out of an unknown material—it’s probably over twenty thousand years old and for chrissakes, the lights are still on.”
“The lights?”
“It’s illumined internally without any detectable power source. The rooms respond to life form presence. You walk into a room and the walls light up with images and writing—we have no idea what the hell it means.”
I sat there stunned. Usually, my mind’s going a mile a minute—but not this time—I felt brain dead. My brain flat-lined like an EEG.
“I’ve spent eleven years looking for some pattern in the symbols—nothing.”
“So, you’re thinking it’s alien.”
“I’m not even sure of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since we worked together, I’ve gone all over the whole world searching out anomalies in the human record—you know, artifacts that shouldn’t be there? Stuff out of place in time? That kind of thing.”
“And what did you find?”
“Evidence of civilizations, miles under the oceans—too deep to go there except robotically—and in some places, too deep for that.”
“What did you see—cities, roads—temples?”
He shook his head in wonderment.
“I saw ruins of cities more advanced than ours. Probably not as technologically sophisticated as the Antarctic site, but further along than us—and probably 50,000-100,000 years old.”
“How can that be?”
“Like I told you, Mark—there’s been a cover-up. Humans have been on this planet a lot longer than people thought. Civilizations have risen, faded or been destroyed, only to rise again.”
“Why doesn’t the government come clean and release the info?”
“Because knowledge is power and they want the technology—they want any advantage they can get.”
I shook my head. “That’s what people say about supposed crashed saucers.”
“I don’t know anything about that—I’d tell you if I did. I’ve never even had so much as a whiff. But this site and others like it—it’s real, Mark, and it scares the hell right out of me.”
“But why—if it’s terrestrial?”
“Because the technology that couldn’t save those civilizations—that maybe even blew them up, is down there waiting to be taken—and the government is sparing no expense to retrieve it.”
“That’s a sobering thought.”
“They’re not after knowledge of ancient origins, my friend—they’re after the technology.”
So, here I am, as I said before—mystified and misshapen, misinformed but not mistaken.
I wonder if the reason we went to the Moon was not as idealistic as NASA said. One small step for a man—one giant leap for all mankind—or was it?
Maybe they were just after some previous Earth civilization’s technology that would be a helluva lot more accessible there, than under miles of Antarctic ice or oceans.
They say a nation that forgets its past is doomed to repeat it. I think the meaning of that statement can be expanded to include all of humanity.
Endlessly repeating the same mistakes—it doesn’t seem to make sense, does it?
Thank you!
Well yeah, many people might think that the story and conversation you wrote in this post is just pure SciFi. However, perhaps in few weeks many could change their minds and have another perspective if they are lucky enough to access to some information and certain facts that are somewhat less common to access in our daily lives.
Nonetheless, everything always is gonna depend on how well informed you were beforehand about subjects as: Majestic12, Operation Paperclip, Operation Highjump, Operation Windmill and many others that in one way or another are related to the Neu Schwabenland in Antartica promoted by the old Thule Society.
