I walked to the front door of the modernistic throwback of some ranch-style, but not, home, noting that it had a screen door. The sweep of central air conditioning being installed around the country had just about put an end to such doors, at least as part of the initial construction of homes, particularly in California. I pushed it open, as there was no latch, the rickety form holding the rather tattered screen to its frame, squeaking even louder than the two badly lubricated hinges on one side.
Julie played with Mrs. Beasley, getting the doll ‘used to the new house,’ according to her, while I could hear Mary working in the kitchen. As I turned the corner to view the single corridor that comprised the kitchen, running the complete width of the home along the western wall, Bozo lay atop the long counter set into that side, just under the edge of one of the many windows running up and down that side of the room. It was an uncharacteristic pose in the new home as well as a setting he’d never have sought out or even tolerated in the old apartment.
The cat looked at me as I stopped to wait for Mary to back away from the stove and take notice of me. He turned his head to first look toward where she worked and then back at me. He blinked slowly. I blinked back. Blinking was some sort of cat language thing but I didn’t understand it. Once more he looked slowly over at her and then back at me, before jumping down and disappearing into the living room.
“Fix it,” I whispered to myself, getting a bit of his cat message.
Finally, Mary stopped what she was doing.
She turned to face me, her hands on her hips. I got myself mentally prepared to lie as effectively as possible when she broached the question she had waited very patiently to ask.
I looked down at the floor in front of the stove, then up at the stove to see where the water under her feet was possibly coming from. There was nothing atop the stove that might contain water.
Mary looked down to see what had drawn my eyes.
“Oh my God,” she said, looking down for a second before looking into my eyes, her own big and round. “My water broke, the baby’s coming. We have to get to the hospital.”
She stood frozen in place, looking down at the pool of water under her. I turned to grab Julie who came easily but clutching Mrs. Beasley to her chest. I wondered how the doll would go over with its single recorded refrain being played time after time in some waiting room.
“Let’s go, I yelled back at my wife and then headed for the Chevy. I grabbed a paperback book from the top of an opened packing box as I moved to the front door. Julie pulled her own small blanket from the couch as we passed.
“You need help?” I yelled over my shoulder, heading out through the door and toward the waiting Caprice. It took only a few moments to get Julie situated inside the back seat of the big coupe. I knew it had seat belts, unlike the Volks, but I wasn’t going to take the time to belt her in as Mary hadn’t followed me out of the house. I went back inside.
I ran to the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. I looked down and followed the water trail she’d left behind, knowing immediately that she’d amazingly gone upstairs toward the bedrooms. Before I could get to the bottom of the stairs, however, she was headed back down, her arms full of towels.
“Julies in the car waiting,” I said, “Bozo will be fine on his own and I’ll check in on him later. What are the towels for?”
“I’m not getting my car all messed up with this stuff,” she replied, heading out the door.
She walked around the car, opened the door and spread the half a dozen towels across the bench seat, and then climbed in.
“Should we have called them to tell them we’re coming?” she asked.
“Hell, we’ll be there in under ten minutes,” I replied, knowing speed was of the essence since only hours of the exact same thing happening with the coming of Julie at Fort Sill, the delivery took place almost immediately.
I took off in the Chevy, but kept the speed down, as I knew any driving recklessly, or really fast, in the car would cause Mary to go off, and Jules was in the back seat without a belt on. For that matter, none of us were wearing them.
Julie and I sat in the waiting room until they assigned Mary a room, which we were allowed to move into. Julie entertained herself playing with Mrs. Beasley while I read Sackett, the paperback I’d brought with me. Mary was as before when Julie was being birthed. No pain or complaints as we waited. The doctor came and went with nurses to check her condition. It took only a couple of hours for the doctor to decide that the delivery was imminent.
Without much of any hubbub they wheeled her off to the operating or delivery room.
Michael was born two chapters of the Louis L’amour novel later. When Julie, me, and Mrs. Beasley, were introduced to the newest member of the family it was without much fanfare. Mary was exhausted and under mild sedation but still in command of the situation. Julie and I were sent home to wait, as they would keep her and our new baby overnight.
When Jules and I got home she went inside to take a nap after asking me whether the new member of the family would be treated more like her or Bozo.
The question caught me off guard. I wanted to laugh but Julie was standing in front of me as stoic and serious as a marble statue, Mrs. Beasley hung from her left hand appearing to be standing on her own next to her right leg.
“Well, he’s a boy, like Bozo, but he’s also your brother now, more like you.”
I replied, immediately feeling like I could have done a better job dealing with the issue.
“Okay,” Julie said, with a big smile. “That means he’ll have his own bowl. I hope. Bozo thinks that’s okay.” At that she ran up the stairs to get ready for her nap.
Once Julie was tucked in I went back downstairs to consider my life and that of my family. I realized, that I hadn’t been at all prepared for a brand new baby, sibling rivalry starting from scratch, and then the coming move at some future date, as likely to be sprung upon me from almost nowhere like the arrival of little Michael. Mary had been so easygoing and normal through the pregnancy that her growing size had been almost all that was noticeable and giving warning of the coming event.
I tried to get my mind off Michael’s arrival and back on track to deal with all the complexities I had going on regardless of family issues. The artifact felt like it was calling to me. At least occupying myself with examining it further would keep me from spending most of the day worrying about Mary’s recovery and preparations to meet with the Dwarfs to talk about things I hadn’t yet prepared myself for. I checked on Julie but didn’t need to. When she went down for her naps mid-day, she went down fast and hard. Mrs. Beasley stood guard, not standing at all, but tucked in close to Julie’s side. Her very peaceful appearance and, in fact, the entire scene in the bedroom, made me feel like it was a portrayal of the famous ‘calm before the storm,’ expression. I left the house and went out to the garage.
Pulling the heater down took almost no time at all. Putting the artifact’s box back inside the hollowed-out structure, and attaching the ropes and other stuff would take longer but not more than a few minutes. Of vital importance was hiding the line and pullies so someone as bright as Mary wouldn’t figure out the association and then discover the object’s hiding place. The object itself was dangerous and I was glad that as amateurish as the box lock seemed, at least it was some protection if the case for the artifact was ever found by someone who didn’t know enough to keep it at a distance. The impressions on my left hand were a very useful reminder about the potential danger the thing might be to anyone unfamiliar with its properties, or at least the properties I’d so far discovered.
Mary’s water breaking had kept me from having to create some sort of not believable lie to cover the object’s existence and presence in our life but hiding the thing would become more problematic the longer I had it, not to mention the difficulty in getting it to New Mexico undiscovered unless the thing was repossessed by unknown interested parties before that move took place. I couldn’t picture such an event in my mind because Vietnam kept calling me back whenever I thought about any kind of potential threat to either myself or my growing family members.
Once I had the case down, I went to work getting the thing open and then removing the artifact so I could control it sufficiently without touching it. I had plenty of time, unlike before and there’d be no interruptions I was almost certain. The side door to the garage was open, and the windows on the facing side of the kitchen wall so I could hear the phone in case the hospital needed to reach me. I wasn’t worried. From the life insurance business, I’d learned that the maternal mortality in the U.S. was very low at only 21 new mothers lost for every 100,000 deliveries, but still, it wasn’t Norway that averaged only 2.
The object sat as it had before, seemingly so normal and innocent, the parallel striations across its surface, ten of which imprinted indelibly into the skin of my left hand, giving no indication that they were anything other than mere markings of some abuse and light wear. I held the ball out from me with a set of old-fashioned fire tongs I’d converted from the throwback home’s equally throwback brick fireplace. I moved the object from the surface of the table and held its surface close to the surface of my left hand, the hand it had marked in some permanent fashion.
I felt something inside that palm and immediately pulled the artifact away. It hadn’t been a tingle or a feeling of pressure. It had been more like some mild solution had been poured across my skin, but there was nothing there to find when I put the object down and then the tongs in order to examine my skin closely. Exercising the hand gave me nothing back as everything felt the same as it’d been before experimenting.
Until I looked closely again. The impressions across my palm, from the base of my thumb toward the center, were about half as deep as they’d been. I held my hand up to the light. Nothing. I wished I’d taken a photo of the hand before experimenting, but I hadn’t thought of it. I wondered if the thing also had an effect on my mind, as normally I had a pretty methodically organized idea of what I was doing, but here I was inside a big garage with not a soul anywhere around, trying stuff with an object that I knew without out a doubt was the most powerful element I’d ever been close to in my life.
Equipment, I thought to myself, staring at the innocent-looking but oh-so-mysterious piece of matter, if matter was the right word to describe it. I needed an X-ray machine, although I knew that wasn’t going to be within the range of acquisition. Special thermometers might help, although I was afraid of heating the thing. The object hadn’t experienced the heat of re-entry in the Apollo as it’d been inside the capsule. But everything in that capsule had been affected by its effects.
I tried to imagine an unknown, yet-to-be-discovered element on the periodic chart but my imagination wasn’t great enough to contain the potential element’s capabilities. If inertia was all wrong in man’s interpretation, then gravity was wrong, as well, since the two were interlinked with the mass of substance of everything. If it could leave impressions of itself, which it most definitely had on my palm, then what other things could it do to humans so very fragile compared to most other bits of flotsam in this universe?
What about electricity? I laughed to myself. I wasn’t about to plug the thing in to see what might happen but I was going to use my Dremel Moto Tool. I decided to attempt the slightest bit of burring on the artifact’s surface. The marks or lines already existent on the surface of the object seemed to indicate that it might be soft enough for a diamond-encrusted bit to take a tiny bit out of, or, and I almost laughed out loud at the thought, put some lines along its surface to get even with the lines, albeit not as deep now that it had put on me.
I moved to the drawer that was on the side of the table where I kept my Dremel stuff, including too many little bits, brushes, and abrasives that I had paid too much money for but never used. I plugged the tube-like motor in, carefully pulled out an unused little bit shaped like a tiny artillery shell, and fastened it tight with the special little wrench used for such a purpose.
The machine came alive as I slid the switch toward the back of the device. I continued to move it until it stopped. The motor was now racing at top speed with the bit revolving at an advertised speed of twenty-thousand revolutions per minute. The whine from the thing was hard to take without a set of earmuffs but I wasn’t stopping to get more properly equipped.
I eased the tip of the spinning bit to the surface of the object, securing its round mass firmly with the fire tongs. I hadn’t purchased a set of safety glasses so I was wearing one of my skin-diving googles I’d purchased for a hoped-for vacation visit to Hawaii, set to occur sometime in the future when the CIA allowed such things and Michael was old enough to travel that great a distance.
The bit touched the object and then was gone. I jerked the handheld cylindrical Moto Tool backward, switched it off, and pulled the goggles from my face. I stared first at the object and then down at the tip of the tool.
I blinked my eyes quickly a few times and looked back at the surface of the artifact, releasing it gently from the grasp of the tongs which I set down and leaned back. The bit was gone. It had disappeared in front of my eyes. It hadn’t been some mistake of light hitting it the wrong way or a shadow obscuring my vision of it. The bit was gone.
I set the Moto Tool down and got up. I walked to the garage door, looked around carefully, and then went into the house. It took only moments to find the packing box that held my desk supplies. The giant magnifying glass I’d bought because I’d loved the huge, weird nature of it, not because I had anything I might want to magnify, was there at the bottom. I pulled it out and cleaned the dust from both sides of its viewing surfaces with the bottom material of my shirt. I went back into the garage and sat down as before.
I studied the tip of the Moto Tool where the bit had been held, expecting to see nothing there, thinking that it was quite likely the bit had not been secured tight enough and, at such high speed had flown out and was somewhere in the garage. The ‘invisible’ event wouldn’t have been that at all, just one that occurred too fast for me to see it happen. I stared, unbelieving, at what I saw. The shaft of the bit was still secured by the three nodes that secured it. They were as tight as I’d first secured them. The shaft, hardened steel that it was, had been sheared off cleanly, as if by a tiny hacksaw. I turned to the object, braced the big heavy magnifier on the tabletop, and studied its surface. Releasing the tongs had been a gentle process so the artifact was in the same place it’d been when I started my examination.
There was a black dot on the surface of the round object that hadn’t been there before, and it was slightly depressed, making half a hole about the size of BB, but that was it. I pulled back. The object had ‘eaten’ my drill bit. The bit wasn’t somewhere missing in the mess of a garage. It was inside the object.
I sat back, having once more gained more knowledge than I was capable of dealing with. How could a solid object seemingly ‘absorb’ another object that wasn’t pressured to penetrate it? What force on the inside of the artifact could pull another piece of matter into its interior, and what happened to anything like that bit that was so pulled in?
After giving the incident as much thought as I could, which wasn’t much, I packed the Moto Tool away and went to work putting the artifact back into its case and the case into the heater exterior. Once back inside the house I carefully washed my hands and examined the now not nearly so distinctive striation lines on my left palm. Although my curiosity was a long way from being slaked concerning the object, I knew that the thing deserved a whole lot more advanced study and experimentation than I was capable of applying. What was I to do? Call Bell Labs, or some organization like that? What about the confidence that had been placed in me to not do such a thing, and why had not doing such a thing been imprinted on my mind by Mardian? The object was likely much more politically dangerous than physically so, I had guessed, without him saying so, even though the potential physical danger was very real and likely much more extensive than I was giving it credit for.
I went inside to make phone calls. I hadn’t alerted our friends to Michael’s unexpectedly surprising arrival. Steve Bro agreed to babysit Julie while I was at the Dwarfs meeting. Steve was not given to being interested in unsolved mysteries so the Dwarf meeting to him was about as useless and meaningless as church services for which he held the same lack of respect.
The phone calls had been endless, one after another, as everyone wanted all the most minute of details about the birth. Alice Ray, my new secretary was aghast that I’d read a paperback novel while Mary ‘suffered’ through labor. I realized from talking to her that there were some things about what had occurred that I might want to keep to myself.
I wore my usual shorts and “T” shirt to the Dwarfs meeting, as I had cleared myself from the beach patrol schedule to be available for whatever my wife, Julie and now Michael might need.
Gularte picked me up in the Bronco and drove us to the end of the pier. The Dwarfs were assembled, and, as I took my place as Snow White I thought about just these people for a few seconds. I had gathered so many people so close to me whom I had not earned, but seemingly been gifted, in my return to what was rapidly becoming home once more. Not the home I’d left for Vietnam but a differently constructed reality where I was welcome, accepted, and even honored by so many people…not to mention trusted, as I was by the collection of wonderful humans before me.
Instead of giving the group my ‘swan song,’ and letting them know that I would be leaving the area, I decided to delay all of that and bring them in on the results of some of the things I’d discovered that gave more credence to what had happened to the dead Marines, the mystery that had brought us all together in the first place. Without going into where the information came from I detailed the assassinations of Kilgallen and Onassis. There were more names but I wasn’t meeting with the Dwarfs about the remainder of those, at least not yet. Cliff Murray had disappeared nearly instantly into retirement as head of the police department in San Clemente. His name had been on the tape but not as having been killed. Instead, Nixon mentioned that he had to be silenced for things he knew that could never be released. When I’d heard his name mentioned I’d gone out to his home immediately and discovered that he was alive and well so I didn’t know what to make of that. What the Chief knew had to be important information for all of us, however, if we were ever to get to the very bottom of the Marine deaths.
The meeting broke up and I went home, the major subject of the meeting had been taken over by the announcement that Mary had delivered, and I was getting fatigued about telling that story, as well as the leftover physical toll the fire was still taking on me if I stayed on my feet for too long.
When I got home, thanks to Gularte once again, Bro met me at the door.
“Your friends stopped by,” he said, pointing across the living room as he said the words.
He laughed as I stared, and then went out through the door.
A bassinet stood in front of the television set. I walked over. There was an envelope taped to the mattress on the inside. I unsealed it and took out a single piece of white stationery and read the short, hand-written message, glad that the envelope had been sealed from Bro’s otherwise prying eyes.
“You might have mentioned the baby,” the note read. “Please, no more surprises until you’re fully accepted and established into becoming what you must become.”
The note was signed with a single “H,” so there was little doubt where it, and the unlikely gift of the bassinet, had come from. That Mary and I had already purchased one that was still unpacked in its original sealed box was as unknown to my handlers as was the fact that finding out a new agent, trained or not, had a very pregnant wife set to deliver shocked me. What else did this highly vaunted intelligence agency not know? They’d likely only found out about Michael’s delivery from my phone calls, all recorded, that I’d made earlier.
My transition in life, once again, had begun in earnest, with managing ‘officers’ and players, apparently, about as badly informed as had been the superiors in charge of my commands down in the valley.
When Louis wrote about a water hole it was there. He did his research I use to love to read his books. The Sacketts were a good read. Thanks !!
L’Mour was a class act and I believe what you are writing about his writing. I loved his display of honor and courage in his protagonists.
In my life I’ve learned that the honor is uncommon and the courage exhibited even more uncommon. Thanks for that compliment and the information you gleaned from studying his works.
Semper fi,
Jim
Mr. Strauss, Sir,
As fascinated with each chapter as I truly am; this time I just can’t get past your reference to Louis L’Amour’s book “Sackett”. I am a very big fan of books written by Louis L’Amour. I suppose that I’m not surprised that a book you reference is as known to me as the songs that you reference. I’ve mentioned before that I feel a connection with you and the group that regularly comments, and that feeling just got stronger. Thank you for all the time and effort you have been making for so long to share your story. For me, nearly every chapter gives me something to think about. It is not entirely selfish that I hope that you will be happy, and willing and able, to continue to share your story for a long time. Best wishes.
Louis L’Moure lived along, writing his westerns with a pencil and paper tablet while drinking coffee while seating in the nude.
I was blown away when I read that one day. I have read through the years everything he wrote. I just love the effort of
good men, fictional or otherwise, working away to make things right and fixing wrongs at every opportunity.
It sure made me smile when I read your comment because I hadn’t really and consciously thought about the fact that
I’d written the title to the book into the story. I remember it so well because Mary was pissed that I was not
paying more attention to her. I sat in the same room at the time while she was in labor. “Sackett, my ass” was one of her
complaints of the time…thanks for bringing that small incident to life here in the comments.
Semper fi,
Jim
I treat myself with your latest writing during my “alone” time at work on Sunday mornings. Get a coffee and get as comfortable as possible for the 5 ticket ride that I know is coming! (BTW all your other works still hold my attention! )
I am hugely intrigued about the artifact and the little clues your release, I watch in amazement at the ever increasing speed of discovery in all nature of tech and have to wonder how much may be inspired by the artifact.
This chapter seems to set the basis for your new adventure, “big brother” is always watching and listening. No longer are living your own life but one dictated to you by unseen hands. This will prove to be a hard sell for someone as intelligent and independant as Mary. Your now living 3+ lives simultaniously; your family, the world with the insurance and dwarfs etc. and now with the company. I can see where Paul will be essential to help keep it all sorted out, especially with the valley ever omnipresent to leak back into any situation in any of your worlds. living compartmentalized is essential for survival, and especially when you are entrusted with information you simply cannot share. Wifes have a hard time adapting to the fact they actually come second to some parts of your life if you want to continue your current occupation. The fact she didn’t divorce you puts her onto a very tall pedastal.!
Awesome story James! I thoroughly enjoy your straight forward writing style, born from years of relating pertinant information in sequential logical formats to be digested by interested parties. Your flourish in creating riveting stories from the basic facts shows your devotion in your advanced academic forays. The perfect storm in story telling! BZ !!
James Johnston. Wow, what a write up this is! Your work your way through very intricately and yet delicately in order to compliment without taking the
compliments back. And your decidation to getting ready and then sitting down for each new chapter is remarkable, to say the least.
Thanks ever so much for putting this kind of comment on here, which I’m absolutely certain many of the other readers love to read.
Semper fi,
Jim
The artifact spooks me
I do not doubt what you report like Coleman said it’s faith but the artifact brings back a lot of memories for me and sometimes those are tough
Every night before going to sleep, I turn out the light, causing me to be bathed in darkness. As a child, I dreaded this time, for I was terrified of imaginary monsters and other creatures who would do me harm.
While not afraid of the dark now, I still have to deal with monsters of a sort, those who raise their ugly heads almost nightly, but who I now know are not real. I’m talking about the monsters that came home with me when I left Vietnam
While over there – nights – darkness signaled danger, for night attacks were common. Even though my unit did not experience too many of these, the ones that we did are still magnified in my mind.
Closing my eyes during the war was scary at first, for I never knew if I would live to see a new day. Eventually, that fear subsided somewhat, but it was always there, subconsciously.
I’ve learned that having a routine at night helps. I take several deep breaths, hold them, and exhale slowly through pursed lips. I always begin in the same position, and hum a particular song in my mind that soothes me. I also imagine myself lying on a quilt in Alabama on my cousin’s lawn, looking up at the stars, and losing myself in the vastness of the night sky.
While not a perfect routine, it works more often than not. Darkness has become more of a friend than an enemy, and I’m no longer fearful of dying in my sleep. That is a constant source of joy. Now, if I can only lay aside the negative memories. That would make my day.
Richard, thanks for the in-depth sharing from your heart and life. Those thoughts that come back and never seem to fade away come back again time after time
for a reason. In case you need them again in a survival situation. That’s what PTSD really is to me. Those -old mental and muscle memories staying with me
as old friends in case they need to be brought back into service. Having them means you are real and ‘normal’ as far as real combat veterans can ever be
some form of normal again. Glad you are here and glad you are writing and my good friend.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was with Jim through most of his San Clemente adventures, with the Western White House, and the police department, and of course, I was his first district manager in the life insurance business. I knew he was a great prospective agent, meeting him at a service club meeting and listening to the saga of his 30 Days in Vietnam, I encouraged him to WRITE IT DOWN, knowing at that time it would NOT be well received…
But the time emeraged decades later
I never saw the artifact but most of us knew that something strange was going on there, especially when people like Jim Gularte and Bob Elwell would clam up when even marginally questioned.
Jim created the Dwarfs which became an incredibly enjoyable experience for everyone involved. He was awarded the Navy-Marine Corps medal when I was with him, the Marine Corps’ highest honor for valor while not in combat.
He was awarded the California Medal of Valor for his heroism during the great fire. His credibility at the time deserved no question and it’s about the same now. He also garnered a few Life Insurance ‘medals of honor’. ~~smile
Jim’s life experience is so deep and significant, however, that sometimes he can sound like he’s telling some sort of fairy tale, but he’s not. I stay in close contact with him and he with me, as he does with Mike Manning and Bob Elwell, also both men who lived the experience with him back then. Alice Elwell is also very much alive and lived through much of what you are reading here in the telling of his story.
Well, what can I write back to that tome, my old friend? Thank you hardly seems like enough.
I don’t really worry much about credibility in telling the story simply because I am not seeking that
in life anymore. I did for awhile only to finally discover that only internal credibility means much
of anything at all. That redemption thing replays all the time through my mind.
Thanks so very much.
Semper fi,
Jim
What an incredible life you two have embarked on !! Thank you for your part in the story !!
Tim,
Appreciate your support of Jim and his work. We have had some unique life experiences, not all ‘rosy’ as you can imagine. Thankfully we were blessed with awesome spouses and wonderful children, I have just made a major life change, after my spouse’s passing, by moving in with my youngest son and his family.
Sold everything and emigrated to Texas.
Reality showed me that it may be time to be ‘watched over’ again ~~smile
Thanks very much, Chuck for responding Tim’s comment about your very own.
Without you, this would never have become what it is and could not continue.
I hope Texas is big enough for you!
Your friend,
Jim
Thanks Tim, for coming in on Chuck’s wonderfully expressive background support for what I’m writing on this website, and that will go to publication
one day soon. I know Chuck rather relishes hearing upon occasion about his work in all of it…which is significant.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for replying to me and your major part in Jim’s life . Best of luck with your new venture. May God bless you and your family. Sincerely, Tim
Tim, that Chuck is responding at all in the middle of his move is rather extraordinary bu then he’s a pretty extraordinary guy. It was really nice
of you to comment back to him and I know he’ll appreciate it. I’m the ‘name’ on here but he does so very much.
Semper fi,
Jim
This is fascinating (to say the least). Thank you sir. Each new chapter is a gift.
I am so happy to supply what you call a gift, week after week. It’s my pleasure in many ways (although not all!).
Much appreciate the compliment inherent in your writing of the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, Short today – To that Jim & Mary you write of – CONGRATULATIONS!!!! Ref the artifact – So it ‘healed’ some of the lines? How did it know what it caused & why ‘heal’ some of it? A feeling of an undetected “mild solution” before the ‘healing’? And then it ‘sucked’ the bit inside? What testing did NASA & others do that may have had similar results? Did it ‘see’ those types of experiments as ‘attacks’ (Other words escape me.), invasion of ‘personal space’, etc & react accordingly? Did you ever find out the specific ‘journey’ of how it made it’s way from NASA to whomever to Mardian’s hands? Your writings of it result in more questions. Enough for now my friend. Regards as always, Doug. Oh – Though I’m sure that we all want more chapters, faster, etc. Don’t forget to take time for yourselves – You’re not an ‘artifact’. Don’t let yourself get ‘absorbed’ by ‘us’. No matter what anyone says, it ‘aint worth it. Just sayin’ my friend.
Thanks Doug, for the depth of your comment and your great written intentions expressed.
No, I am not letting myself be sucked down a hole in the telling of this story. I live in that hole,
as writing is now what I do, whether it’s the weekly newspaper (the Geneva Shore Report) or the novels.
Thanks for the concern and I wish I had more answers than questions. That the ‘world’ small as my readership
may be, gets to know about the artifact at all is about as much of a gift as I can give it.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
garage with not a sould* anywhere around, (*soul)
Congrats also on the baby boy !!
Guess you also figured out your phone was bugged when a baby crib showed up, hmmm…
Giving the dwarfs limited info when you know you wanted them to know more must’ve hurt.
Great chapter LT, keep on keepin on..
SEMPER Fi
Hell, the leaving behind all of them only got more difficult emotionally over time.
Paul indicated that I would spend the rest of my life trying to rebuild my company.I came to find that he
was very correct…right to this point.
Thanks for the neat comment and the compliment,
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
And thank you, once again, for your newest chapter you have posted. BTW, this most recent chapter is not yet on the main website where I usually find all the chapters, including newest ones.
I was informed of this chapter via an email you had sent out that provided the link. The reading of a new chapter never disappoints.
I never realized that your wife Mary’s pregnancy was so far along and was surprised to read that the baby came in this chapter. Can’t wait to hear the details of the “lie” you were about to tell your wife–and if she will buy it or not. Did the “thing” leave any marks on the tongs you used to hold it? It sure is fascinating. Did you take any regular measurements of it? It’s weigh? Circumference? Did any of those type measurements (if taken) vary from one time to another? Any reaction to sunlight? Or water? Try placing an ant or other bug on it… Try placing it near a working radio, and change the volume on the radio? You need better protective equipment that simple goggles. In any event I hope you keep it away from your cat…it might end up absorbed like the small drill bit!
THE WALTER DUKE. I can’t try anything at this point in my life Chuck because I no longer possess the artifact…thank God.
There was danger there and even some risk in writing all this stuff about it, although I am amazed that so much is coming out
to be true that I learned from it. Chuck was moving so gettin out the chapter was a bit more problematic than usual.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
THE WALTER DUKE. I apologize for not answering the remainder of your comment. My wife wedged in and that was that.
She went to the store so i’m a free man again. I have much more that i learned about the object as the chapter to on
and I won’t ruin it for others or the continuing story by revealing…even to someone of your high stature in my writing life.
Thanks for understanding…
Semper fi,
Jim
As I read this I was reminded of Doubting Thomas when he was attempting to certify Christ! I don’t need to see the wounds I just believe! You also know much more about the laws of Physics and where the artifact crosses those lines, but my understanding, just like the laws of aerodynamics is more Ike our “Catholics upbringing Faith! I made it through math, physics and flight school with out pushing through understanding way it worked!
Interesting your birthing moments are a lot like mine except Jimi who was born while I was in DaNang.
Good stuff!
Unlike those of the returned Christ of the time, my wounds are not still open so it’s hard to get Thomas to insert his hand for proof!
Thanks for the great comment and the compliment at the end…dry as it might be!
Your friend and combatant in life…
Jim
What an outstanding chapter, Jim! Couple minor edits, which we can leave for Dan C.
So a big gift to you, Mary, and Miss Julie! And how great was Julie’s acceptance of her new brother! Satisfied that Michael will have his own bowl, and thus she’ll not have to share!
I think the “hand engraving sphere” tantalizes me as much as it did you. I was a scientist (wetlands and wildlife), so the physics of it are really a puzzle. All that chemistry and physics and radiology I studied – now all rendered moot as a cow fart in a hurricane. And it appears to be able to heal the damage it caused. Makes one wonder what else it might be able to heal – and to this date a mystery to the commoner. I knew our government has a habit of keeping secrets from we the people, but this really raises the bar.
Would have read this earlier today, but the VA in Columbus really needed my input on what new torture they might try next.
And you know I was a swabbie, but the Marine Corps Association has been sending me all sorts of Corps material lately. Very strange indeed!
Keep going on that word processor, my friend – all of us are dancing on tenterhooks!
Craig, i waited a few days to reply. I worry about your health, of course and with the VA you can be excellent hands or those of some corpsman just coming aboard
but still performing all kinds of surgical procedures! It would appear the MC association has some intellect after all!
Anyway, there were will be plenty more about the artifact as the chapters now blow by. Thanks for everything you bring to the table but
mostly because of how much you evidently care about the work, its progress and me too…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Jim, you’re mixing SciFi and history into a really intriguing story! I cant wait for the next chapter. SF. Batman
Thanks, Batman, for the great short comment. The artifact is till changing the world, or the effects of it,
so science fiction is just that until it becomes real (Wells…From the Earth to the Moon 1901, Clark’s Telstar 1945…and more).
I do love science fiction and I believe you’ve read Island in the Sand, which is much more than than what I’m writing now.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
This ‘object’ is giving me fits since I can think of nothing in the past several years mentioned that could have related to it. I’m sure though that you will get to a better explanation of it in the future. Good friends are hard to come by in the civilian world after spending time in the military. I have noticed in the comments that you are still in contact with some you have made along the way. Really enjoying the regularity of your posting new chapters. I’m sure it isn’t easy, but I know that all of your followers approve and appreciate it. Thanks, Lt.
The violations of the physics as was expounded upon and taught at the time qwew wet evident in studying the object. Back then we have 103 elements
on the periodic chart and that was deemed to be all their would be. Today we have 188 and know there are more. CERN was built because of doubt. Where did the
physical read doubt come from that drove them to build a 20 bullion dollar machine. They tested the speed of light and then exceeded it three times with
particles…shut down CERN and rebuilt it. They said it was equipment error but never retested again. The astronaut who found it wrote about it in his diary
now in the Smithsonian but not available for study. Entanglement is proven, violating all we know about relativity and they are building right now a radio
that will allow instant communications anywhere in the universe in no time. They are building quantum computers. The observer eff4ect is all but declared total
bullshit. The artifact’s effects, never revealed to be those, are all over the place. Don’t get me going! Anyway, thanks for the neat compliment and your
dedication in following me. I am working my ass, and finances, off to keep up the flow at the current rate….
Semper fi,
Jim
Another twist and turn totally unexpected Looking forward to see where it leads us At the beinging of the chapter in the garage You say would I think you mean soul
Thank for the compliment and the editorial help here Jim…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT somehow I missed the chapter on how you came into possession of the artifact. Can you reiterate which chapter it was? This is really very intense in the scheme of things. Thanks LT
Hell, Tony, I’ll have to call Chuck (Texa Ranger Chuck or maybe Cowboy Chuck now) and find out.
It’d take me too long to figure out the exact chapter and the part in the chapter.
Thanks though for being that interested. I have not heard from any current physics people
yet but they’ll be coming eventually.
Semper fi,
Uim
Chuck’s at chuckbartock@gmail.com if you want to direct
Artifact surfaces in Chapter LXI, TCL, Book Two.
THE WLATER DUKE. Well, that sure put a smile on a few faces this morning Walter. Thanks for tracking that down
and letting Chuck off the hook, as I’d tossed that one to him. Cowboy Chuck is still settling in after changing his
entire life following the loss of Shirly, his wife.
Thanks ever so much, as usual, for doing the leg and mind work here.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Thanks to the work of another reader (and sleuth) Walter Duke, here is the data on the first appearance of the artifact: “Artifact surfaces in Chapter LXI, TCL, Book Two.”
Thanks Walter Duke!
Semper fi,
Jim
Sir your writing is awesome in this chapter, it was as if I was over your shoulder and watching and hearing it all! You have jumped up to expert level. Keep this coming, and I can only guess what is coming next. Thank you and Semper fi Lt
I can’t ask for greater compliments than you give me Bob and I have to say they are most comforting to receive.
Getting a chapter written, as well edited as possible, and then placed in all the Internet sites that have to be
accessed and copied in is one hell of a continuous labor…of love, but still. Thanks for helping keep me going and
on track. Almost missed my deadline this week! jeez.
Semper fi,
Jim
speed of twenty-thousand rounds per minute.
*revolutions
Thanks Don for the more accurate help here.
Semper fi,
Jim
“The shaft of the bit was still secured by the three nodes that secured it.”
More properly called a collett.
Don beat me to the revolutions edit.
I wish they hadn’t cancelled the Texas super collider. CERN might be having new directions to investigate these days.
Another interesting chapter, as well as thought provoking.
Thank you again Jim
Regards, Tim
Thanks for the help here, Tim, and I will get to making the necessary changes.
Semper fi, and thanks for the compliment too…
Jim
Without the readers like your to edit the work I couldn’t go on so many oh man do I appreciate…..