14

Introductory Text

Encasement
The CIA Researcher's Narrative Part 01 14th Post Posted 23 April 2016 at 16:54:19 EDT Link to original

Encasement was certainly not something we were expecting. It really changed our whole perspective on what exactly was occurring. We thought that the flesh interfaces were just like pipes that went from one location to another, perhaps extradimensionally or by some other "magic." But when the first subject came back encased, we realized that... Well, I'm not sure what we realized. We realized -- for the thousandth time in our dealings with the flesh interfaces -- that we were dealing with something really beyond us. That's why I called it 'Magic.' They were so far beyond our understanding, it was basically like meddling with some kind of 'Black Magic'.

The first subject to come back encased was an 8-year-old girl we had named Jingles. We started naming the kids dogs' names to try to depersonalize them, to assuage the guilt. This was done by the recommendation of CIA psychiatrists, but it didn't work very well. We all still felt like shit. But what choice did we have? Could we just ignore the flesh interfaces and not study them? Perhaps, but you must realize that the Soviets were also studying them. That changed the whole equation. If they... Well, the ethical issues have been debated to death. What's done is done. We dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, we gave those blankets to the Indians, and we sent those kids through those portals, and now it's all just a part of history.

Anyways, we sent Jingles into flesh interface and an object returned 2 minutes later, which is a pretty long time for an interface. It was a large organic sac lined with veins, vaguely resembling a human lung, about 4 feet long. We x-rayed it and saw the skeleton inside and cut it open. Sure enough, Jingles was inside, naked and covered with blood, with no hair on her head. There was an umbilical cord attached to her bellybutton, which was attached to a sort of placenta.

We had a problem with the surgeons trying to harm her. It was later realized that her blood -- its blood -- the blood from the sac, had high concentrations of an exotic LSD analogue. It was getting absorbed through the skin. The placenta was like an LSD factory, pumping out millions of doses. This particular blend made people pretty violent, so we had to put on containment suits.

Jingles' skin was flawless, like a newborn's. No wrinkles on the back of her neck, no wrinkles on her palms except the major ones. She had the form of an 8-year-old girl but seemed a lot... newer. We did MRIs on her bone plates, and found they were still highly undeveloped, as if she was newborn. We wondered, is this really Jingles or some kind of clone? What sort of apparatus could have possibly produced this clone, and why?

After a day of observation, she awoke. We weren't sure if her mind was still there. Perhaps she had been "wiped clean." So we waited, asking her questions. At first, her behavior was like that of an infant. Just smiling and gurgling and clasping her hands. It was pretty eerie seeing that kind of behavior from an 8-year-old. Really, it was pretty eerie looking at her at all. Her skin was so pure and glowing, she looked like an absolute angel. I... we... well, anyways...

After a while she started babbling, saying little phrases. In a matter of hours, she seemed to progress through the various stages of development, her sentence structure and awareness becoming more and more sophisticated. As soon as she could understand sentences, we started questioning her again. Who was she? She said her name. She knew her past. This wasn't just a blank clone. This may or may not have been the original girl, but she seemed to have the same mind as the original. So then we asked her the question that we wanted to know, the question that had plagued us for years, the question that had led us, in the face of all humanity and morality, to send a child into a living apparatus of death.

What did you see? What's on the other side?

Her expression grew thoughtful. She was such a thoughtful, bright girl. We chose her for her intelligence. So young and bright and we just threw her... Anyways, she thought about the question, and it seemed then that we would finally get an answer, a real answer. I remember the sense of anticipation in the room. It was like nothing I've ever felt before or since. Remember, I quit the program that day, so I was never able to question another subject. Anyways, she said to us, "Inside the chamber, I started to feel drowsy. The everything changed. And... I knew what I saw. I had seen it before. I said to myself, 'This is like the room in grammy's house. The quiet room."

We asked her what she meant by this. She replied with these words -- her final words before she simply stopped living and sat there dead with her eyes still on us -- she said, "Come unto these yellow sands".