February 11, 2002
An email regarding Phillip Krapf from Dr. Richard Boylan
The Challenge of Contact Message 1
Go to the PADRAK UFO Main Page
This post was taken from http://www.thechallengeofcontact.com/update3.htm
"Updates on the Contact Project"
September 16, 2001
"We Have Not Given Up"
That webpage is down now, and I have reproduced intact below, from text files that I saved:
(Never trust the net!)
The Challenge of Contact Message 2
Summary of a Briefing on September 11 Aboard the Goodwill
Gina got up and approached me.
The Verdant face is virtually expressionless. But after some exposure to them, the astute observer can at times detect some very subtle, albeit almost imperceptible, expressions of emotion. If I was reading her face correctly, there was a certain muted sadness to her demeanor as she took both of my hands into hers. She told me to be seated and returned to her own chair. Sarah and Martin had remained sitting.
I cannot, of course, recall the exact words that were spoken, but the quotes I use here are true and accurate representations of the intent, meaning and tenor of the conversation, if not the precise words themselves.
"I shall come straight to the point," Sarah began. "The Verdant High Command, after reviewing a report on the current state of affairs and viewing the regrettable scenes of carnage occurring on your planet, has decided that the human species is not yet ready."
No words came to my mind. I was not surprised. Heartbreakingly disappointed, but not surprised. I simply stared vacantly into her dispassionate face. Gina still seemed to be wearing the same look of subtle sadness. On the other hand, although I can't be certain, I thought I detected something else on Martin's face. To the untrained eye, his features remained bland and impartial. Yet, there was something just below the surface. What was it? A certain self-righteous smugness? An aura of condescension that said "I told you so"?
Whatever it was -- if it was anything at all -- I found it irritating.
"It's over, then?" I said. Grammatically it was an interrogative, but I inflected it as a declarative, as though I already knew the answer before I even posed the question.
"All Ambassadors and Deputy Envoys will be instructed to abort their assignments for which they were recruited. That process has already begun, but we expect it will take several days before all of them can be contacted."
Well, that was pretty direct, but it was a bit too diplomatic. The words left room for interpretation. I like my information straight, direct, unencumbered by polite tip-toeing around the point.
"Is the contact still going to take place or not?" I fairly demanded. "Or are you saying that it's down the toilet?"
Sarah turned to Gina, who immediately grasped the significance of the action -- apparently it was a questioning look.
"It's a colorful term for something that has gone or has become lost." Gina responded without having been asked, at least orally.
"I see," Sarah responded. "The official decision is to halt the proceedings. Call it a hiatus, if you want. What's going on right now is unacceptable. What you do on..."
"Your whole world is insane!" Martin interrupted. Sarah merely had to swivel her head in his direction to regain the floor.
"I was saying that what you do on your own planet is your own business. However, Martin is overstating it. More precisely, what he should have said is that what is occurring is insane. But we still stand by the 80-20 percent hypothesis. No, you are not insane as a people. We still believe in the 80 percent. And it is known that some of your undesirables -- the 20 percent -- practice ritualized insanity. That has always been so. It can be contained with the necessary will and resolve. But that hasn't been demonstrated. We have an obligation to preserve cosmic peace."
I asked what she meant by "hiatus," and she replied that all Ambassadors and Deputy Envoys were being released from their assignments, none will be expected to go public -- although they are free to do so -- and that efforts to establish diplomatic relations have been put on hold.
"For how long?" I asked.
"We don't know," she replied. "That's up to your people. We will continue to monitor the planet. We have not given up. It will happen someday. That is inevitable...unless...."
The words hung there in space, almost palpable.
"Unless?" I said.
"Unless you blow yourselves up first," she replied.
That wasn't the first time I had heard that phrase.
And then Martin said something that was like a dagger through the heart.
"You foolish people will not be going into space, I guarantee you that. And, quite frankly, I think you are going to blow yourselves up. We've seen it before."
I gazed wildly at each face in turn.
"We won't go into that issue right now," Sarah said.
"We desperately need your help," I said. "You have the means. You can help us." The plea bordered on hysteria.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said. "We don't interfere or intervene."
And that was the end of it. During the course of the conversation, incidentally, I was informed that several Ambassadors had been assassinated, none of them Americans. These killings were reported in the mainstream press. Since the victims hadn't publicly identified themselves as Ambassadors, reports of their deaths were simply reported as political murders.
Martin left the room without another word. Sarah stood behind her desk and wished me good luck and thanked me for my efforts. Gina approached me and uncharacteristically squeezed me in a surprisingly strong hug considering her diminutive size. I was choked up and mentally chastised myself when I felt the moistness on my face as our cheeks were pressed together. I didn't want to lose control.
And then I realized that the single tear that stained our faces wasn't mine.
It was hers.