Incredibly Dangerous, Extremely Sensitive, and Entirely True

Based on a true story, though certain details have been changed/altered to protect the identities of individuals involved.

Part 1: The Sighting

Journal entry September 26th, 2008:

Philip and I received an anonymous letter that was dropped at our doorstep around ten pm. After our recent embarrassment concerning the Slide Rock Bolter hoax in Morrison County, we initially thought this to be a follow up mockery of our humiliation.

Philip opened the envelope, which had become slightly damp due to the rain but was still legible. A farmer, apparently out in Weld County, believed that his cattle and property were being targeted and attacked by some type of UFO, or at least an inhuman entity.

Philip and I exchanged glances upon reading the letter, myself believing it to be a prank, but Philip believing it could have some credibility. We briefly check outside the apartment; no one there. We go back to our game, and bourbon, but I promise we can check it out tomorrow, but for him not be dismayed when it turns out to be a disappointment.

Journal entry September 27th, 2008:

We awoke in the late afternoon, perhaps it not being a wise decision to ingest so much bourbon the previous night. Around two-thirty PM, we departed Denver for Weld County, around a hour and twenty minute drive. Around four PM, we arrived at the address scribbled on the letter.

A large, cream colored farmhouse sat in the middle of acres of farmland. Towards the left, a shed that looked like it had suffered an explosion from inside, the land around it also scorched.

Philip gave me a look, which translated said “see?”

We continued onward towards the front door of the farmhouse, an older, husky man sitting on the porch. He asked if he could help us, and the perplexion on our faces must have been visible, as he sighed and yelled out the name Sarah. A moment later, a young girl shuffled into frame, head down. He inquired of her if she had contacted us, and she simply nodded. When asked how, given that she appeared to be twelve, she said she had a cab driver come and deliver a letter to us.

The father, who revealed his name to be Todd with a handshake, sighed and told Sarah to depart. She gave me and Philip a look before returning inside. Todd told us that a storm had damaged the property a few days ago, lightning striking the shed and some of the land. He told us that Sarah believed an alien or monster had been the cause of the incident. He chalked it up to the childhood mind trying to make sense of tragedy.

I, for the most part, agreed with all of this, as did Philip. We departed, but before we could drive off, Sarah quickly ran out and stopped us, telling us to come back tomorrow night, around twelve, and look for the thing from the sky.

Journal entry September 28th, 2008:

Philip and I, after spending all day drinking and deliberating, decided around eleven we’d head back over.

We arrived at the farm around twelve-fifteen PM, parking somewhere down the road and taking out our binoculars.

The first fifteen minutes, nothing, save for a storm which had just started up. The first thirty minutes, nothing, save for the storm worsening, and Philip dreading the drive back home in these conditions. The first hour and a half, ready to leave with several strikes of lightning hitting the ground, a thing most peculiar happened. The storm grew in severity, a few bolts of lightning striking the land afar off. Then, as quick as lightning, or maybe faster, a gigantic, twisting, and grotesque limb shot down from the tempest and plucked a portion of the land; when it withdrew, the land was quickly stricken by lightning.

“…what the fuck?” was all I could muster.

Part 2: The Men in Purple & The Little Men From Underground

Journal entry September 29th, 2008

After quickly and maniacally driving back home, Philip and I spent most of the night, morning, afternoon, and day drinking, smoking, and talking about what this means, and how much money it could bring us. Around ten, we departed, inebriated and high, but full to the brim of conviction. We parked near the spot we had the previous night, except a little closer, and took out our binoculars and watched. The first hour or so, nothing, save for the temperamental storm. Around eleven-forty, headlights appeared down the road, a sleek, black sedan arriving. It parked a little down from the house; two men in plum purple suits got out, sunglasses covering their eyes. They walked to the door and knocked.

After several moments, Todd answered, and the man to the left immediately removed something which he put to Todd’s face, a white flash emitting then Todd falling back. They proceeded into the house. Philip let out an “oh fuck”, and I had to agree.

“Sarah,” I suddenly said, both Philip and I leaping out of the car and running for the house. As we entered, we heard several shots, a yell, and a thud. We ran down the hall and into the bathroom, where we saw something that can only be described as a fever dream. One of the men dead on the floor, bleeding from his side, and the other agent knelt over him. A little bit away, a likewise dead and bleeding little man, no more than three feet tall, that looked like a cross between a miner and a gnome. The other agent spoke into his watch.

“Macdaddy zero-nine down, I repeat, Macdaddy zero-nine down.”

He suddenly noticed us, and his face became like flint. He got up and proceeded for us, hand reaching for that strange device. We immediately ran back for the car, the man following. We ran across the land, the storm still raging. Suddenly, the arm struck down, again grabbing a chunk of land, the man unfortunately, or fortunately for us, getting caught in the scoop and yelling profanities as he disappeared into the obsidian tempest.

Part 3: The Harpooners and the Tommyknockers

Journey entry September 30th, 2008:

Needless to say, when we arrived home, and indeed the whole drive there, Philip and I were a mixture of excitement, confusion, and dread. Mostly the latter. We debriefed as best we could under the emotional pressure, and this was thus far our conclusions:

1.) There was an entity in the sky, terrestrial or from another dimension; we can’t conclusively say

2.) That little man was a Tommykocker. The stature, as well as miner gear and wardrobe, all but confirmed it

3.) There was a secret organization that knew of these things, and we labeled them the men in purple

4.) For some yet unknown reason, all three of these things have converged around the farmhouse

After finalizing our dissertation, we decided upon returning that night. Phillip said he had a gun, which indeed he did: a shotgun stashed in a sleeping bag he had tucked in the back of our overcrowded closet. After this, we gathered all our filming equipment and departed around ten-thirty.

When we arrived, we were greeted with a relatively tranquil scene. We set up our equipment and watched. For the first half hour or so, nothing. We saw Todd come out to the porch, rummaging through a trash bag. Philip said we should go talk to him, and I agreed. We departed the car and proceeded for Todd. When he saw us, his eyes seemed alarmed, and he asked why we returned. I said because of the insanity of the previous night, and he asked what we were talking about. I told him about the sky monster, and the little miners, and the men in purple. He told us to leave, and that if he saw us again, he’d contact the authorities.

Philip and I returned to our car, through cultural osmosis immediately coming to the conclusion that the men in purple must have wiped his memory. As we discussed further, the storm worsened, the limb certain to arrive any moment. In a turn most curious (if that meant anything anymore) the ground in front of the farm upheaved, Tommnykockers coming out with bows and arrows. When the limb struck down from the sky, they shot arrows up towards it. The limb retracted, an eldritch screech emitting from beyond the storm.

In an even stranger turn, three flying saucers descended, two little grey men on top of one with harpoons attached to them. They shot for the ground the Tommnykockers were on, the harpoons turning into lightning upon descent. The limb struck down for that section of the ground, clawing them up and into the storm. The three saucers followed.

Suddenly, a van sped down the road, men in purple jumping out and rolling across the ground before the van even came to stop. They aimed strange rifles, firing at both the Tommyknokers and whatever the hell was happening in the sky.

The little grey men shot down harpoons again, the limb quickly coming back down and clawing up the ground. At the front porch, Todd watched with agape eyes, an equally shocked Sarah behind him.

***

Part 4: The Dig

After debriefing with Todd and Sarah all night, Sarah told him what had transpired, and Todd broke down in tears (I’m not sure if this portion will be included in the column due to its personal nature) and apologized for not believing her and begged her for forgiveness.

“Forgive me,” he wailed into her jeans. Please, forgive me.”

“Pops,” Sarah said. “Of course I forgive you.”

After this repentance and reunion of sorts, we conversed about the soil. Todd said he remembered stories from when he was a boy. Stories of beings from the ground, warring with beings from the sky for the magic of the dirt.

We thanked him for the exposition, Philip and I deciding to head back to base to conduct more research. Before we left, we recommended, however, that Todd and Sarah stay elsewhere for the time being.

After returning to Denver, we did some research on Weld County and its soil. The soil there tends to be very deep and well-drained with a sandy, almost loamy texture. A high amount of sugar beet farming is done there. Nothing out of the ordinary, definitely nothing that would lead to conclusions of alien or preternatural activity. We looked into possible meteorites or other celestial bodies that may have crashed in the past; alas, nothing.

I rang for Cas Lovell, a colleague who specialized in extra-dimensional studies and quantum physics (the latter of which is an iffy claim). As expected, he answered on the second ring. We told him in great detail about the events of the last few days, a conversation which lasted upwards of two hours. Silence met us at the end; Cas eventually saying he’d accompany us tomorrow. Before he hung up, he asked if we still had the hazmat suits he had gifted us.

***

“Okay, nothing here,” Cas said, walking along the land, his body like Phil’s and mine, encased in a yellow hazmat suit.

“What about you, Phil?” Cas said. Phil walked the land with a Geiger counter.

“Nothing yet,” Philip replied. “Also, it’s like ninety right now; can I take this thing off?”

“Sure, if you want cosmic rays from galaxies unknown to ravage your being on a cellular level.”

“Never mind.”

“Wait,” Cas said, stopping. “I’m picking something up. I’m…holy shit.”

“What?” Phillip inquired.

“This…this radiation isn’t from another galaxy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s not even from this universe.”

Cas quickly went to the pile of shovels a few feet away and threw them to us.

“Dig.”

After thirty-five minutes of digging, Philip began to revolt. And honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

“God!” Philip spat. “I’m burning up! What are we even digging for? I doubt you even know; you fucking dropped out of Boulder your first semester, Cas.”

“Gold.”

“Gold?”

“Golden light,” Cas said, pointing down beneath him. “Ladies and gents, I think we’re looking at a dimensional rift.”

And then thunder struck, that great and terrible hand reaching down and plucking up the ground, myself, Philip, and Cas along with it.

Part 5: The Eternal Billy War

The first thing I noticed was bright, fluorescent light bulbs that flickered. The next thing was a man spitting “shit”.

I groaned, leaning up to find myself atop a dirt pile in a giant, white sterile room. The only thing that wasn’t a white wall was the enormous glass window that sat across from me. An older, towheaded man with an unkempt beard came running down a staircase opposite the glass.

“My apologies! The Gyges limb isn’t exactly the most precise instrument.”

The man pushed a button on the wall, and a door opened. He walked through, crawling atop the dirt pile. I turned to my left and right to see Philip and Cas. The man outstretched his hand.

“Bill. Though my friends call me Billy.”

***

After leading us out of the “grab room,” as he called it, Billy led us to a large office room, a Herculean monitor on the wall. On it, two stars colliding.

“Activity in the Andromeda sector,” Billy said, coming in with a tray of tea he handed to us before taking a seat.

“So,” he said, eyes studying us in slight amusement, though there was a certain obsidian behind them. “I’m sure you have questions; I’d be happy to give some answers.”

We looked at each other.

“I-what is this place?,” I asked. “Who are you?”

“As I said earlier, I’m Billy. Billy eight billion and seventy-five, to be specific. I’m an android tasked with…mitigating possible cosmic catastrophes. Such as what’s happening on your Earth.”

“Cosmic catastrophes?”

“Indubitably. An example being what’s transpiring on that screen, or the schism on your Earth.”

“Schism?” Cas said.

“Yes, a schism. Matter from another universe, another reality, is leaking into yours through an accidental tear. An unfortunate quantum oopsie, but left unattended, quite…tragic.”

Philip looked at me.

“That’s why all those…things are there.”

Billy nodded.

“The Oogaans, or Tommyknockers as your people label them, have noticed this schism and come from the Netherworld to harness its power, as have the Grey Men of Andromeda.”

Billy pointed to the colliding stars on the screen.

“They hope to fix the little situation they have unfolding at the moment.”

“How do we fix the schism?” Phillip inquired.

“Simple,” Billy said. “We-”

Billy choked, standing up. He grabbed his throat as he stumbled back. His eyes rolled back, and his body froze, as if petrified. With a gasp, they returned, and he fell to his knees.

“Jesus!” Philip said. “What was that?”

“A past self attempted to kill me.”

“What?”

“Eternalism - the sad side effect of living in a four dimensional block reality. Each version of ourselves is constantly alive, constantly living. You four years ago. You ten years from now. All as real as you are right here. Billies are a paranoid bunch, however, and prone to murderous scheming. Each afraid the other is thinking the same thing. And they might be, who’s to say, really.”

Billy stood up.

“Enough exposition. How would you like to see the solution to our problem?”

Part 6: Conclusion

A shifting, black orb floated in a small, white room. We observed from outside in a hallway of sorts.

“A schism destroyer. Annihilates matter on a quantum level.”

Billy typed on a levitating, almost liquid screen in front of him.

“I’m inputting the exact coordinates for the bomb; now all we need to do is pull these four levers at the exact same time. Thank the nonexistent god there are three of you and one of me.”

Just then, a portal opened; Billy leaped out of it with a blade he stabbed into the top of our Billy’s head.

“I know you’ve been plotting to kill me!”

Billy fell to his knees, gurgling.

“…true.”

Billy looked at us.

“My sincerest apologies.” Billy fell to the ground.

Other Billy observed us with a smile.

“I’m Billy from one week prior. I assume this is concerning the schism?”

We looked at each other, in shock. Cas eventually mustered an answer.

“Um…yes. B-Billy was about to launch this…schism bomb to the area.”

Other Billy nodded.

“I see, we must act now-”

Another Billy materialized, likewise stabbing the second Billy. This continued until there were thirteen Billies, and a very bloody hall. Billy One suddenly gasped, somehow still alive.

“We must launch the bomb now!”

Billy One crawled to the lever and grabbed it.

“At your stations, men.”

We pulled the levers, a circle opening under the orb and it falling into the void. The Billy’s continued to spawn, and the entire structure became a blood-soaked murder party. Billy snapped his fingers, and a white portal opened behind us. He gave us a wry smile.

“Bon voyage, little things.”

We were sucked into the portal.

***

We awoke on a farm, not knowing how we had got there. A farmer and his daughter greeted us; the father was at first hesitant, then calmed down when he noticed our genuine confusion. Our truck sat to the side of the road, and we departed. As we drove away, I noticed how vibrant and full the fields were. We conversed about the strangeness of the situation, and Cas said we had most likely experienced something paranormal and that a group or being had wiped our memories.

After dropping Cas off, we went back to our apartment. Phillip said he was tired and locked himself in his room. I sat at my desk, easing my confusion with a beer. I looked through my emails and saw a folder I had emailed myself yesterday.

The title of it was “Incredibly Dangerous, Extremely Sensitive, and Entirely True”.