The birds are singing their songs today, as always. Add to that the hum and soft buzz of communal morning activity. Water being collected. Logs added to a fire. Few sleep past dawn here. We have come to love nature. We, who had been deprived of it for so long. In this current state of peace, I retreat to a favorite spot against a tree with this, my journal. A good day begins without a nightmare to shake loose from my thoughts. It starts instead with an empty mind. Free of the fear that today may be our last day on the hill. A moment of lowered guard. Without my legs braced to run.
Each of us living on this hidden compound spends a little bit of each day wondering if today will be the day they find us. The day they unleash Hell on us again. To get rid of their problem. To eradicate the proof of what they did and still may be doing. The proof exists in each of our fractured minds. Minds toyed with in the name of defense. In the name of science. In the name of control. The public, from what we know of them, had little concern for the dark underbelly of their government. Until it was their own lives that were thrown into chaos. Their own livelihood and security that was destroyed by the mechanisms of the big game. I could be angrier at the public and their failure to rise against the incremental militarization of society. The disposal of peace. The disregard for basic rights. But who am I to say I would have acted differently? I often wonder but will never know that truth. I wasn’t given a choice. My action had been forced by the hand I was dealt that placed me at the center of another dark chapter of Deep State operations. All of us here at the escapee camp resist by simply surviving. We have some weapons now and our “advanced” abilities but not much else. I guess it’s important that I try to explain just how we got here. But that, as you’ll see, is not so easy.
I guess you could say I’m pretty damn mixed up. As in, I wish this were all a big mix-up. Like, if I were someone else, everything might be alright. Or if everything I remember was just a nightmare. The fact that I can’t remember everything that did happen complicates the hell out of this even more. What a relief it would be if I could just forget all of it. The flashbacks make that unlikely. That’s another thing they fucked up. My mind was supposed to be wiped clean. I should never have escaped my prison to begin with. I’m sure they’re nervous about what I might do with what I can remember. What I will try to relay here in this journal. They are hell-bent on trying to stop that from happening. This doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.
I don’t even know if I want it to. But I’m writing it down as a way to remember. There are no organized compartments to my thinking. I just experience thoughts like papers scattered on the floor, dropped out of file folders. That’s what my head feels like. And I sense some asshole smoking behind a desk. Watching me. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’m not being watched. Surveyed. Studied. Probed. They sure got me all right. I just can’t figure out how they let me slip away. They won’t make that mistake again.
I’m finally awake to a whole new reality. I should be relieved but I’m not. I think I could be dying. Dying, slowly from something they did to me. I could go at any time. I might be better off that way. But then I think, maybe I can do something useful with the way I can hear what people are thinking and how I can move things with my mind. Right now I’m just too damn confused and paranoid. But I’m better than I was. I have to believe that’s at least true. I live now preparing to get back at the bastards for what they did. And that’s something.
Very little about my childhood has managed to creep back to the surface. A tree fort in the woods. Going down a steep road on a bicycle in the fall. Buying a pack of cards with the gum inside. Being sick. Taking medication from some doctor. The last big thing I remember is having a hallucination that went on for hours. I saw God and thought I was going towards it but that’s when I woke up at the facility. Willowbrook. I must have been 13 then. I don’t even know how old I am now. 24, maybe? I guess that makes me a real mess. Well, that’s how I feel about myself. I don’t know if the God thing was real or something they put there to trick me. They were real good with playing tricks. Especially Father Cameron. He’s not my real father. That’s just what I was told to call him. At least I don’t think he was my dad. That would be too much of a mess to even think of. There were scientists, doctors, counselors, friends. They all said they were there to help me. If I just did this or I just did that, then they would be very happy with me and all. I guess I did want to make them happy. It’s all a little fuzzy. I can see faces smiling at me. That must have meant I was doing good at their little assignments. There was always something for me to do. Some thought to concentrate on. Or some puzzle. Writing down damn word combinations that didn’t mean a damn thing but they smiled about it with their stupid approval. This must have went on a long time. Years, actually. Tests upon tests.
What you’re reading is nothing more than a data dump from my brain. This is my version of the story.
I’m a post-American PTSD frizzle fry. Hands prone to shake. Feeling eyes in the back of my head. A danger to myself and others. Wanting to lash out. Wanting also, to hide. Sometimes paralyzed. Other times, crawling on walls. I can get into other people’s head but I can’t get out of mine. What did I do wrong? I was just a kid. I’ve been wronged by the world. This sick system that needs to turn their boys into robots. Androids for the coming psychic war. Thoughtless men of violence. I’d like to turn my violence on them. If I could just get a hold of the programs running inside me. Running on overdrive. If I can’t slow them down, they’ll burst my brain into so many slivers. What thoughts are my own? Which ones are remnants of the game? I respond to symbols and images when I look around. Some make me want to fight. Others, to cry. I’m riding the flick of a switch. A switch I can’t see. Switches I’m surrounded by. I’ll be OK when the floor stops shaking. The fires I started began accidentally. It’s a by-product of the game. I can turn it on them. If I could just get a handle. If I can just get out from under the bed. They never thought I would find a way out. I’m not supposed to know my way around. Away from the deep base under the ground. The lair beneath the surface. A decommissioned bomb shelter, resurrected as Frankenstein’s lab. My home. My Hell. Father Cameron and his lies. He made me an animal so I could bite on command. I’m a faded picture on a thread of film. A copy of a copy of who I might have been. And what might I have become. Now I’m nothing.
When I got out, I didn’t recognize much. I was prepared for that by Dr. Pfeiffer. Before he sent me away. Pfeiffer worked with me during my whole stay at Willowbrook. He used to be really cold and unfeeling during my training sessions. Then I remember one day he started talking strangely. He was just different. Like he was sad or afraid. We stopped doing the games together. He would set up the equipment but just leave it sitting there while he talked. He told me how damn confused I would be when I left. He was right about that. And about how things would look different. He just kept saying I would be OK and how it was time for me to go back out into the world. I didn’t know what the hell he meant. All I knew about at the time was Willowbrook and all that crap we did. It’s a real shock now but I didn’t know any damn better then. I guess it was a real freak show.
Old Pfeiffer just told me to forget all about it and start over.
Don’t look back and live a new life. He said I was young and strong and could have a job and I would be OK. My whole stupid life was ahead of me and all that crap. That must be fine for most people. I didn’t know what kind of person I was. I didn’t know anything about having a job or a family. I didn’t even know my real name for starters. Pfeiffer gave me a new one the last time I saw him. Alex. He said he always liked the name, Alex. They programmed me with everything else, why not my name too? With cards of made up information and a money chip hidden in my cheek, I got stuffed in a van in the middle of the night. That was the last time I saw old Willowbrook. Someone in a mask pulled me out of the back of the vehicle and left me on the side of a road. That’s where the real mess started.
The last time I used money to buy something, before Willowbrook, it was paper money. Now, of course everything is scanned on a little money chip instead. The paper currency collapsed while I was locked up. That’s when the people rouse up. They started to hit back at the monolith. Some banks got burned. But the people stayed poor. That’s when the troops began open patrols of the streets. Curfews in the areas that needed them. This all happened over a three-year period. The “Breakdown,” they called it. This was the big mess Father Cameron spoke of. His own twisted version of it, of course.
I only had Willowbrook to compare it to. Everything felt weird and unfamiliar. Learning about how to get food to eat and crap like that. All the stuff that the facility just made happen. After I was dumped I was alone and no one could help me. Not at first, anyway. I guess that was the freedom Pfeiffer was talking about. Father had told me the outside was something to fear. He preached about how the world was in chaos.
That it was destroying itself. That there would be a collapse soon and it was good I was at Willowbrook. I wouldn’t have to see the worst of it. He made me feel good about myself because he said the world needed special people like me. We were in a crisis and they needed to train me for what was coming. He could do lots of weird ESP crap too. The worst was when he read my mind, or put his voice in my head. After the crash, Father Cameron said we would help step in and put things right again. That’s why I was afraid when Pfeiffer said he was sending me away. I thought that I was no good anymore and I would die in the collapse. Now that I’m out, I’m still scared but not just for myself. For everyone on earth.
I went to the place Pfeiffer told me to go. The Ashland Inn. A shit-hole motel where I lived for awhile. My room was a little bigger than the one at Willowbrook, so that was OK with me. The first few days out, I just lay on the bed shaking. I was sweating a bunch. The flashes kept jumping in my head. Into my mind’s eye. I didn’t even have a feeling of hunger for a long time. I wasn’t taking my pills from the counselors anymore. They always said they made me feel better. I guess they were right because I was a real mess without them. Pfeiffer said it was all for the best. It sure didn’t seem that way. He said I would have a bigger job to do out in the real world. I wish I could ask him about what the hell he had in mind.
A woman named Drew came to see me after about three days of not leaving the room much. She said she knew all about me and where I had been. I was spooked at first because I thought she was there to take me back to Willowbrook. I felt better after she told me she was against what was going on there and how wrong it was. She said I was a victim and they must have hurt me pretty bad. She seemed real angry about it, even more than me. After she got mad, she cried. She was sad about me I guess. Nobody was ever sad about me that I could remember. Drew said I probably had real parents somewhere and they would be sad about all this too. In the middle of her talking I had one of my big flashing episodes.
Basically, I saw myself strapped into a chair and some scientists were beaming lights into my eyes. Then it flashed to me, upside down in the dark and creatures came in and out of a hole in the floor. I also saw some stuff where I was burning stuff up just by thinking. Drew put me under a blanket, holding me until I “came back” into the room. I guess she knew what to do. She told me not to worry. There were others like me, she said. I got real tired after a flash, so I went to bed.
Without the pills I started having what I now know are vivid dreams. Sometimes, lucid ones. I guess it was my way of processing traumas. There were some fun games I played back at Willowbrook. All the abilities I have now I learned there. Doctors told me I always had them but through their specialized training, they were able to really shine. And they had endless ways of enhancing and building on them. My dreams brought it all back. The shock treatments. The drug experiments. Sensory deprivation. Hypnosis. Electromagnetic radiation. All that type of crap. They did a real number on me. I never saw the faces of the doctors who did the nasty stuff. It was never Father Cameron. He would come in to build me up psychologically or test the results. He explained the training was necessary to make me into something extraordinary. This was for my own good because he said I was very troublesome on everyone before he meet me.
Without his help, he promised me I’d end up in a real bad way. I was born special but needed some readjustments, he said.
The nightmares brought back memories I wasn’t supposed to have. Between the flashbacks and dreams, I was kind of a mess.
I thought I wanted to die before Drew showed up.
She started bringing me in food to Ashland Inn and talking with me more about all the Willowbrook stuff and how she got involved. Dr. Pfeiffer made some contacts with the outside about what was going on. I guess he was feeling guilty and wanted to do something. He also sensed the fact that the institution wasn’t going to be able to contain all their toys much longer. Father Cameron could only maintain control for so long. He was the only really powerful psychic warrior among the authorities at Willowbrook. To defend against a general uprising of the inmates, he deputized his best reprogrammed cases. This was a signal to Pfieffer that the operation was vulnerable. And extremely dangerous.
Drew really wanted me to know that I had to be careful about my powers. I was especially unstable at first, which I was soon to discover. I really had no idea all of what I was capable of. But the big thing she wanted me to know had to do with the others like me. Apparently there were thousands of kids across multiple facilities being worked on. We were supposed to be some special battalion of super-soldiers. To defend the country from threats external and internal. That was the original idea anyways. Out of all the kids, a few managed to escape or were discarded back into society. A society, under martial law.
Drew got deeply involved in the “rescue operation” after she discovered her runaway sister, Mary Ann, wandering the streets of Ashland. Many of the subjects were abducted off the streets or taken from orphanages.
Other times, from youth detention centers. Drew hadn’t seen Mary Ann in over four years and she barley had any recollection of Drew or even of herself. It’s now understood Mary Ann had been subjected to a lobotomy at Willowbrook before being dumped back onto the streets. This procedure was undertaken when a subject failed to show adequate development in the PK/TK (Psychokinesis/Telekinesis) program. While cleaning Mary Ann’s clothes, Drew discovered a web address and a password.
The encrypted website contained the watershed that would create a domino effect that continues to this day. The information Drew was confronted with represented a major leak made by a Willowbrook insider. An insider she would later find out was Dr. Pfeiffer. Many of the doctors and specialists conducting programs at Willowbrook lost faith in the mission. But only Dr. Pfeiffer was willing to risk it all to bring down the operation from within. The leak gave it all away. The mind control, post-hypnotic suggestions, psychic development, personality disassociation, macro and micro psychokinesis. They tried every conceivable technique on record.
With us, the runaways and throwaways as their farm of guinea pigs. With the living proof right in front of Drew, there was no denying it. She had to act. And so, began a fruitful underground network with Pfeiffer escaping patients into Drew’s hands. By claiming death through experiment, Pfeiffer was able slowly move victims off the books. The Ashland Inn became the drop spot and debriefing point. Drew took on the role organizing a community. Her background as a nurse was another asset. She was the only link on the outside that wasn’t poisoned by Willowbrook. Her parents lived in complete denial, inoculated from thinking by all the latest pharmaceutical fogs.
Her uncle, Harold, on the other hand had always kept a watchful eye on nefarious societal undercurrents. He quickly sold off his meager possessions to reinvest in our current off-grid compound. He is responsible for much of the additions and fortifications put in place to the original single cabin site. By the time I got out they had already built up a strong commune of over 20 escapees.
After a week of clearing out my mind and body at the motel, she asked me if I was ready to meet some new friends. People, who would become family. People, who had been through what I had been through. Living together in a place where I would be safe. She offered me a whole new life.
Separated from the mess of society. I joined their little commune in the hills because that was my only real choice. I had escaped Willowbrook but left to my own devices, my powers would have got me into to deep trouble. I was used to being helped. Good at being meek. Good at going along. That’s how Willowbrook molded me to be. So, with no choice, I emerged from my little dark room into a blinding sunlight one Thursday afternoon and got into Drew’s car. I saw a whole new reality out of the passenger side window that morning. Instead of freedom, I felt fear. But I trusted Drew. I had to. She was my only hope.
It wasn’t easy assimilating into such a tight-knit group. Everyone lived in fear and shame. But we soon developed a tight bound. A bond, based in vengeance. In that bond, I found the desire to go on. Together, we tried to heal from the psychic damage that Willowbrook inflicted on us. We tried to make some sense of it all. Mainly, we thought about bringing Willowbrook to its knees. Then, burning it to the ground.
It took about six months for a newbie to get settled in. To establish a contributing role. For me, getting accustomed to the company of others in addition to the rigors of natural living was a challenge. Drew was my salvation. She taught me everything I know about how to survive out here. We worked together closely on the communal farm. Within a few months we were in love. Without her, there’s no telling what may have become of me. I seriously doubt I would have the mental fortitude to press-on. We are expecting a child within 3 months. This brings me great hope and terror all at the same time. We need to build our community with pure children. But what kind of world will they inherit?
As my head was getting clear, some of the worst aspects of Willowbrook re-emerged. One awful night, I was sent into a panic when regressed memories about psychic death matches throttled my brain. The best way the heads of Willowbrook could evaluate our training was to stage a battle of wills between two patients. Like an ancient gladiator game, I was forced to fight another slave to the death using any psychic or PK/TK power I could. Father Cameron was surely responsible for choosing who would face each other. I wonder whether this testing had any purpose other than to satisfy the blood lust of a man gone mad with power. A man, who believed he had attained Godhood.
For surely, he had altered the human species in a profound manner. It’s easy now to observe how the project fell so quickly out of hand.
That I had killed on more than one occasion was clear to me. I saw myself as I had never thought I could be. Ruthless and decisive. A wielder of great paranormal skill. Moving objects of all sizes at great speed, achieving severe damages. Fatal damages. Knowing what a man would do before the critical moment seemed to have saved me on multiple occasions. If and when the strong arms of Willowbrook appear, I will be ready to engage in deadly combat. I can at least have peace about that. To protect my new family, I will most certainly unleash every last ounce of brutality they pumped into me.
My flashbacks could become so vivid as to send my psycho-energetic forces into misdirected action. On one occasion, this nearly cost us a barracks area due to inadvertent fire starting. Without Drew there to refocus my inner impulses, I would have caused a great deal more harm to our fledgling society. Others in the group were not so lucky. Usually the man or woman who couldn’t open-up or didn’t have any emotional support within the group. One man named Roger was one tragic case. A heavy flashback sent him in a rage. He seemed to think he was being surrounded by doctors that wanted to take him apart piece by piece. You didn’t want to get too close to anyone in that state of hysteria. His destructive forces were far too great to engage with directly. Drew heard his maniacal battle cry from across the commune.
“You bastards won’t take me! You won’t take me alive! Do you fuckers know what I’ve become,” Roger screamed.
When Drew arrived, it was as if he couldn’t hear anything outside of his own hallucination. By the time a couple of us began to mount a restraining take down from behind, it was already too late. His eyes burst out along with an eviscerating pair of powerful rays that blasted a crater into the ground. His entire body was burned up from the inside. He overloaded himself with an overwhelming electrical pulse of energy. It was quite a shock for all of us. Drew, then as now, blames herself for not being able to rehabilitate everyone. No matter what we offered, there were some cases that just couldn’t readjust. I have worries about a few that simply disappeared in the night. God only knows where they could be now.
It wasn’t long before I developed a sense for when someone near me was entering a dangerous trance. It started with physical ticks not dissimilar to the onset of an epileptic seizure. Our telepathic connections as a collective increased sharply, especially among a core group of us who had been together for over three years. Mind reading came easily to some, to others not so much. For purposes of defense, we began group work that would develop our latent talents for it.
My partnership with a man named Joel, heightened both our psionic powers exponentially. It was slow going at first but in time we received watersheds of knowledge. Our collected concentration of heightened consciousness got the attention of similarly advanced beings. Although, it became clear they were not of local origin.
One of the female residents, Julie, was the first to clearly identify who or what was reaching through the cosmos, linking minds with us. The “Star-Seed,” she called them. Beings that have lived on planets all across the universe, over a period of time far beyond the lifespan of any human. Some live hidden among us on earth. Doing what they can to stave off our destructive tendencies. Earth is merely one planet among untold others throughout parallel universes that face cataclysm. The Star-Seed act as our guardian angels. If a species is worth saving, they may choose to intervene as unobtrusively as possible. Julie said we are being chosen to help. In procreating, our commune of freaks would produce the “Star Children.” If we manage to survive long enough, that is. These children will be decisive in the eventual victory prophesied by the Star-Seed.
The Star-Seed soon began transmitting to me, through visions. Here is an example of notations recorded after one such event. “A fragmented dream. Opening of portals. Inner-dimensional beings. Fluids shared with me. Mixed with my blood. An ascension to another realm. A telepathic entity, implanting codes.
My body in two places at once. And in no body at all. Only the fluids, moving through vast blackness.”
Suddenly, the vision took a turn – “No! No! Get it away from me! You filthy demons, leave me alone!” I was transported into the heart of an invasion. The enemy, came from all sides. Closed in on me.
“I must fight. Must kill. Up from the ground. Out of the sky. Mad, mad fire fight. Must use my mind to push them back. The evil forces show no mercy.”
I awakened, the vividness so real that phantom images continued to act out this dark portent of death before my opened eyes.
The ominous foreshadowing of terror was off-set by beautiful visions of the Star Children. I saw how they will inhabit the earth and create a legion of defense. A wave of protection against the corrupt and destructive forces. Their extraterrestrial energy will either transform the minds of the wicked or eviscerate them entirely. That’s what we pray for. Drew and I became pregnant soon after the revelation. We were the first couple to achieve this blessing. The commune is made up 21 men and seven women. Our work will be slow. Females not partnered with a male made their advances without haste. Our women are committed and brave. Even more so than the men in most cases.
Joel received the gift of scrying or visioning the future with the aid of a reflective material. His direction from the Star-Seed was to get a track on Father Cameron and his current operations. It wasn’t long ago that Drew received her last communication with Dr. Pfeiffer. It was a message full of panic. Clearly, he had been gotten to by someone at Willowbrook. A slip in his security measures had left a trail exposed. It was his assessment that his own capture was imminent. He assured Drew that the precise location and number of escapees remained a mystery. We should however be taking extra precaution and prepare for the inevitability of conflict. Joel intuited that Father Cameron assembled a psychic re-con team of his most advanced test subjects.
They immediately began work, scanning the surrounding regions to locate energies indicative of PK/TK frequencies. Father Cameron had built upon the work of 20th Century remote viewing programs with the aid of newly enhanced psychoactive drugs. He would use all of his formidable resources to track us down and destroy all trace of our existence. In our own way, we yearned for the day of reckoning. We decided we would not spend our lives running. Hiding. Afraid. The Star-Seed added to our resilience to fight. We had been chosen to help bring down Willowbrook and everything it represented. Father Cameron remade us in his image. As a natural step in our evolution into adulthood, we rebelled.
It was only his megalomania that prevented him from seeing it coming. He will do anything in his power to correct that oversight.
And so the stage is now set. A pitched battle to the death is the only resolution to our situation now. When we become geo-located, they will come for us. It’s reasonable to assume Father Cameron will be able to call upon as large a force as he asks for.
Those within the Deep State operation that authorized the Willowbrook research project have every reason to suppress any breach in security, which might lead a trail back to them. More so than the embarrassment entailed, is the very real threat we at the compound represent. And that’s without their even knowing about the Star-Seed. Drew’s uncle Harold, a practical man unable to rely on the extraordinary powers of the rest of us, has concentrated his efforts on arms procurement.
It will be a conflict to make the Heavens shutter. I reflect sadly on the fact that we will be forced to fight other victimized subjects still under the mind control of Willowbrook. But so it must be. Joel is devising a possible psychic plan to breakthrough their programing just as they descend upon us. Most of us fear a humanitarian approach could deviate our attention from our own defense, putting us at too great a risk.
We are running out of time to figure it out. We all feel the growing psychic disturbance growing among us. We must remain strong. Our resolve to fight, must not waiver. We are all prepared to meet our end. We will do so willingly if our personal sacrifice means greater victory. If we succeed on our own turf,
Willowbrook will stand undefended. It’s then that we’ll march on the compound and burn it to the ground. Of course that’s just the first step. Many other operations must be exposed and destroyed. Until then, we observe the passing hours like so many soldiers from times past. The Star-Seed are with us telepathically, instilling calm into our hearts. Transmitting cosmic waves of focus down into us. If we fail, this journal serves as some proof of evidence of what transpired. And then it will be up to the next generation of Star Children to take up the fight for humanity and all that is good.
May they forever perfect our orbit within the cosmos. My name is Alex Starchild, the first earthly father of the Star Children.