Three of the strangest subjects of our time turn out to be one story.

The Substitutes

While absolutely everything that happens in someone’s life may or may not happen for a specific reason, we have to consider that anything with a higher than human intelligence simply doesn’t leave these types of interactions to chance, right? There are instances, such as that of Travis Walton, where he was simply at the right place at the wrong time, took it upon himself to act aggressively toward a craft, suffered an injury, and then had to be cared for and dropped off. And there have been others who interacted with NHI craft based on coincidentally being at the place where that craft had other business to attend to, and they now have stories of contact to share. Those kinds of things certainly exist.

But if you’re going to make an effort to come around and interact with humans for a specific purpose, you’re not going to leave those decisions, or those humans’ potential paths, to chance.

While the interaction on County Road 13 in Elkhart was weird, it had created a pattern. And patterns allow for analysis. My interactions with what we assume were NHI elements are just one section of that pattern. What I am about to share is that there were also some human elements of the pattern as well. At least, they looked human. The first of which happened just a couple of years after our abduction in 1978.

All throughout school, I had been experiencing a high level of bullying. I was that kid; too smart for his age; too defiant of social hierarchy; and I rarely fought back when pushed. I was an easy target for anyone looking to feel more powerful. So, I got picked on a lot. When I moved up to middle school for 7^th grade classes, school lunchtime turned into a prime time for those bullying events to occur.

Subsequently, because the school administration wanted to figure out the least energetic way possible to handle the bullying problem, unlike any other kid in the entire school district, within a few weeks of starting school, I was allowed to grab my cafeteria lunch and go eat it in the no-food-or-drinks-allowed library, all by myself. During the hour after lunch, I had a study hall, for which I was allowed to take that in the library as well. This was because study hall had become a time of similar unwelcomed activity.

One day, after about a month of going in and greeting the same librarian day after day, eating my lunch, and tossing the refuse into her trash can behind the desk, I walked into the library to see a different lady behind that same desk. I usually found the regular librarian sitting behind her desk, where when I arrived, she would just glance up at me, smile when I said hi, and then she’d go back to whatever she was doing. Today, this different lady was standing and facing my direction so that we wound up immediately making eye contact when I rounded the corner of the library doorway. It was like she was waiting for me to arrive. That was the only explanation my mind could create. After all, I was always the only student there for those hours of the day. I paused when I saw her.

“I get to eat lunch here,” I started.

“Oh, I know,” she replied. “You usually sit up here, right?” She pointed to the table near the doorway where I usually sat. I nodded. “Let’s set you up back here today.” While she was finishing the sentence, she was already walking from behind the desk toward the back of the library. I followed her, carrying my school lunch with me.

This lady was younger and had dark hair. She was strikingly pretty. And I don’t mean to make a big deal of it, but when I say ‘strikingly pretty’, I mean that this lady was one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen. Like, even at age 11, I was all, “how you doin’?” She was much prettier than any of the other teachers I’d see in middle school.

She proceeded to a door at the back of the room and opened it, turning on the light inside. I was only too happy to follow. There was a smaller wooden table with some padded chairs around it. She pulled a chair back, and I set my lunch on the table. Curious, I asked her where the regular librarian was. Like, are you going to be our new librarian?

“She’s out today,” she said. “I’m the substitute.”

Oh. A substitute. That sucks. She left for a moment. I sat down and was just about ready to dig in to my lunch when she returned with a can of Sprite, which she placed next to my food.

A Sprite? A SPRITE?! Sprite was my favorite drink! Who was this perfect lady? And what the heck was all this amazing treatment from her about? If this is how every day in the library can be, I hope the regular librarian never comes back. This is amazing!

“Enjoy your lunch,” she said with a smile. Then she left the room, returned to the front desk, and let me eat in peace. The experience was amazing. My heart was fluttering. I was eating my lunch in a special room, at a perfectly sized table, in a cushioned seat, with a friggin’ Sprite to wash it all down. Fuck that little milk carton the cafeteria had given me. That got tossed in the trash unopened.

When I was finished eating, the substitute librarian came back. “Do you want to look at some books?” she asked. The regular librarian never talked to me in all the hours I spent in her presence, and she had never let me eat in this special back room. And she had never asked me about my interest in books. The funny thing was, as often as I’d been in that library, I had never once pulled a book off the shelves to read anything. I usually chose to draw Battlestar Galactica battle scenes with vipers versus cylon raiders or something similar. But today, I was open to the changes that were occurring, so yeah, let’s look at some books.

“Okay,” I said. She immediately started talking while walking again, which pulled me out of the room to follow and listen to her.

“There’s a section right here that boys like you usually enjoy,” she said, stopping just a single row of bookshelves away. She paused and crouched down. I crouched down with her. “It starts here,” she pointed to the beginning of a row, “and ends here,” and pointed again toward the end. In between, were about 20 books on UFOs and similar topics. I read the titles on the spines, but didn’t know what UFOs were.

She spoke slowly and over-enunciated, “UFOs are Unidentified Flying Objects,” she said. “You know, flying saucers and aliens.”

Except I didn’t know. You might think back to the previous chapters of this book and think, this kid would have known all about UFOs and aliens. But remember at this point all those memories of my past experiences had been repressed into non-existence. So my conscious awareness that day did not include any thoughts or knowledge of UFO subject matter. I balked a bit. Who believes in aliens? I thought. Still, she helped me select three or four books from the group, and carried them back to the room for me, where she laid them out and left me to crack them open. I looked at the pictures first, then read a little about the sightings and stories that went with them. One was about the Bermuda Triangle, which she helped me check out so I could take it home.

The next day, I returned to the library hoping to see that substitute again, but the regular librarian was back at the desk. I walked by her and headed back toward that back room, but found the door was locked. I walked back up to the front desk.

“Can I get into that room?” I asked.

She looked back at that door. “That room isn’t open to students,” she said, and went back to the book she was reading. Disappointed, I went and sat down at the regular table I usually ate at and never saw the substitute librarian again.

My thoughts today? Why did that substitute librarian seem like she was waiting for me? Why was she so nice to me? And why UFO books? Admittedly, that day did change my life because I did revisit that section again, and the interest in the topic did stick after that, and when I ran into learning opportunities connected with that topic, I did pay attention. That one day of interacting with that substitute librarian in middle school is now revealing its purpose.

The next unexpected human interaction was also a substitute teacher incident, but this time in college.

I was attending Eastern Florida State College before I transferred out to Florida State University in Tallahassee. I had shown up early for a music class, and since the professor’s office door, which was open, was literally 5 feet from the classroom door, I went into his office and sat down. This professor had provided me a full scholarship to sing in the school’s show and concert choirs, so I knew him well. We talked for a bit, then he asked for five minutes so he could prepare for his next class, which is the one I would be attending next door. He literally motioned with his head in that classroom’s direction when referencing the class, and said, “See you in a few minutes.”

I entered the class and sat down. The rest of the class straggled in and sat down. Then someone I had never seen before walked into the room, closed the door, wrote his name on the board, which was Mr. Johansson, then he explained how we could remember it “Johan’s Son,” he said, putting a slash in the middle of the two s’s for emphasis.

He explained he was the substitute teacher for the class, which seemed odd to me having talked to the professor 5 minutes before class and him alluding he was on his way. I had no idea why this substitute thought it was important that we remember his name, so much that he discussed it for a full 5 minutes. The substitute professor then spent the whole class talking about the nature of time, and how humans misunderstand the operation of time within spacetime and how we think it’s something different than it actually is. The topic was a total mismatch from the music curricula we were supposed to be covering that day. Johansson took 50 minutes to discuss the relativity of time, and how it’s actually not itself a dimension, but simply a measurement of the difference in the rate of change in atomic states. For some reason, he then looked right at me and said, “I think this is going to be important for you to know some day. I think you’re going to do something amazing with it.” He held the stare before moving on.

I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, and frankly that moment felt really weird with him calling me out in front of the class.

Personally speaking, I think Carlo Rovelli would later do a much better job of explaining the intricacies of how wrong humans are about time, and how time as we see it is actually an illusion, and that time in is an extension of relativity of all matter throughout spacetime. Rovelli states that there is no actual time in the universe, and he does it with the mastery of a poet. I highly recommend his book on the topic, The Order of Time.

Please note: There’s an aspect of data in Consciousness that records changes in the universe, which is how time travel works. That’s a discussion for another time (see what I did there?), but If you’d like a quick layman’s understanding of time before we move on, it works like this:

Time is a measurement of change. It’s a measure of atomic change specifically. Early clocks used pendulums which were affected by the forces of gravity changing the location of the pendulum’s atoms. Early watches used quartz crystals, which vibrated at particular frequencies. These vibrations are atomic state changes of the crystal. The vibrations, through mechanical transmission, moved the hands around the watch face. They weren’t perfect, and many needed watches to be reset often. Then, we started getting better oscillators.

Science started using cesium atoms which gave off microwaves that could be translated electronically into time increments. These are atomic state changes. These became our military and global scientific experimentation clocks. Then, they improved that by 100x to using strontium-87 and aluminum-27 in optical lattices that became even more infallible. These clocks theoretically are +/- only one second over the lifetime of the universe. That said, you, without any help, can make two of these almost perfect clocks tick at different speeds than each other. How?

You simply have to take one of them up a hill (or up in a plane, or out into space), while leaving the other one where it is. This is because ‘time’ (and the atomic states running them) ticks more slowly based on their relative connection to mass. But in reality, it’s just the clock running slower because of mass’s effect on the atomic state changes of what atom is running the clock.

There’s a lot of science to this but let me break it down to where us regular Walmart shoppers can grasp it.

The fields that make up spacetime hold differing energy levels in them. And the fields that help determine mass of material objects deliver that energy to the other fields in that same area. These energies determine how fast the atoms in that spacetime vibrate and thus change states. So, at a certain elevation on the Earth, where the clock is a certain distance from Earth’s center mass, that relative space of where the reference atom is sitting affects how fast it oscillates, thereby running the clock at that specific speed.

But if you take an identical clock that has been synchronized to the first clock, and run it farther away from Earth, that second clock will run faster than the first clock, even though they are identical, because the fields affecting the vibration of the reference atom are now in a different fields energies because of its different position relative to Earth’s mass. Thus, the fields energies there are lower because the clock is farther from Earth’s mass. (Explained by Einstein’s e=mc2, because the c2 part is a “constant” static number, showing us that energy is directly proportional to mass, so the farther away from mass, the less resistive energy to state atomic changes.) So, in the case of the farther away clock, there is less energy to resist the reference atom’s state changes, so the atom vibrates faster, and the farther away clock runs faster.

Same concept with taking a second clock toward light speed in a spaceship. The faster you push a clock toward light speed, the slower that time ticks for you in that ship relative to Earth. Why? Because pushing that ship to a higher velocity requires more energy, which increases the fields energies, which increases resistance to atomic state changes. This means ‘time slows down’ on the ship in relation to Earth, and you literally age more slowly than the people you left behind as the clock and all surrounding atoms have more resistive energy to their state changes to deal with.

It’s that simple.

Earth’s ‘time’ runs much faster because it’s not running in a ship travelling in a much higher energy state.

This is why when you’re right next to a black hole eating an apple, everyone on Earth you ever knew passes away, and maybe even the Earth gets destroyed while you chew. Your experience is chewing and swallowing at your normal speed, because every atomic state change around you is being resisted equally. So your relative position to mass slows your atomic state changes of the whole scene. Your body’s atoms don’t change as often, the apple’s atoms don’t change as often, the ship’s atoms don’t move through spacetime as quickly, etc. while relative to Earth’s fields energies, those atoms are allowed to race through their state changes and ‘time’ passes much more quickly.

So, in reality, time is just a measurement of the rate of atomic state changes, and through multidimensionality, a record is made of those changes that have occurred and will occur. This second bit is a little complex, so we won’t talk about it here, but if you’d like a peek at the concept, the movie Interstellar did a great job at explaining it with the interactive tool it called the Tesseract.

Getting back to the basics, is time constant anywhere in the universe? No. Not even from atom to atom. Is time a dimension? No. It works through measurement and a record of other dimensions. When discussing travelling through (backward or forward in) ‘time’, you’re actually accessing the data of the state changes throughout the evolving data of the universe. That’s a records request.

Here’s the paperwork. Fill it out in triplicate. You’ll need a pretty important signature on the bottom. Best of luck. They’re never in the office.

Regardless of whether I was able to help you better understand anything about time, our substitute Mr. Johansson wasn’t wrong. And his words were presented to that college music class well before Carlo Rovelli would write his later book better explaining it. Why did Johan’s son show up that day with that particular message? Why did he want us to remember his name so badly? I have no idea. Personally, I hope he was a time traveler, and that he just won a huge bet somewhere by me mentioning his name in this book.

The third human (?) who showed up unexpectedly in my life with a weird nudge in a certain direction did so only briefly, when I was presenting at The Science of Consciousness Conference in Tucson, AZ in 2018. I was presenting my algorithmic model of the creation of human emotion, which would later birth the algorithms of human emotion for AI.

During a break, an old man with long hair and a long beard, both unkempt, walked up to me and started explaining some very detailed processes connected with human memory that will likely soon become useful in AI memory assembly. What he spoke about was way ahead of its time, and he did so with a detail that I could not only sense was right, but that was appearing on the screen in my mind in clear detail, showing me that it all made sense. The memory system was overlaid with the actual reality of the structure of time I had envisioned after Mr. Johansson’s talk in the classroom in Florida.

All three of these weird human interactions, and the NHI ones beforehand, would all later fit at the point I was handed the mission I would be assigned by NHI.