A "Sleeper" Time Traveller?

Discussion in 'Your Paranormal Experiences' started by werewolfsonofeire, Nov 22, 2017.

  1. werewolfsonofeire

    werewolfsonofeire
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    Hi all,

    I gotta say, I'm pretty frustrated. But then again, I reckon I should be.

    The first key turning point of my life was nearly three decades ago, the day my father passed on. My father acted totally out of character that last day, rather than driving into the regional city to his workplace, he decided to walk me to school, and take the train.

    He never made it to the depot to clock on. From what I've understood of the reports that were submitted to the Coroner, he passed on of a massive heart attack, attributed to heavy smoking, increasing alcoholism, and overworking himself.

    Its only as an adult, that the very tiny scraps of slightly "off" facts have started to come out, the most in the wake of the recent passing of my grandmother, my fathers once mother-in-law. Anecdotal evidence of a coverup. A culture of secrecy, that is ingrained into my own family. Refusal to acknowledge my questions. Threats, lies, more horrid stuff. Allegations of some involvement by the military.

    With family and friends like that, who needs enemies, right?

    Thats about the time I ran into The Odd Man.

    The Odd Man who told me I would talk to my estranged mother and her surviving family members, and forgive them, two months before the funeral and doing all of this, whether I liked this idea or not. Actually, the way he put it, it wasn't even an order. He was simply telling me a fact.

    He knows other facts - exact locations of events, exact numbers for things like rent paid, all kinds of kooky stuff. After I realised the man had an odd aura about him, I described him as such. Turns out other people I know well, my good friends, have encountered him. Always, the overall feeling was this is a guy you simply do not trust. No one knows much about him, but he knows all about you, personal things, EXACT personal things. Details that are literally impossible to cold read, let alone guess.

    Even attended the funeral, did very odd things that no one even thought to question, no one recognised him, and this, considering the funeral notice went in the district newspaper the morning of the funeral, and now, nearly five months later, old friends of the family are still finding out from me for the first time that Nan passed on. This guy had to move 1,200km in less than a day, and I found out, my cheapskate aunt didn't want to spend the money to put the notice in the online edition of the regional newspaper.

    Bloke was still at that funeral. And still no one thinks to question what he did, or why they have no idea who he w

    Hell, the bloke even looks like me, if I were twenty years older, put on 40 or 50kg, lost most of my mind down a bottle, smoked, and lost all my teeth. And my hair was sandy blonde, not black, like it is now.

    So, I've been trying to get to the bottom of this. Yeah, I've had "some" involvement with the Underworld. How do you recruit impressionable kids for wars, the White Feather in the Cap thing, right? Promise the world, the ones that survive get to regret the loss of their mates, and continually get told, they're "the lucky one."

    Right.

    So, I know how to spot a "handler." Easy. Know how to spot all kinds of things - a narcissist is usually nailed within three sentences now. A psychic can be nailed within one. Cunning creatures. They don't have any idea of what they're doing, they "just do it."

    I see how they're doing what they're doing.

    Even worse, I seem to just "bump into" extremely advanced physicists. Worked for them, built instruments and test assemblies in their labs, done quite a bit of research and running of simulations. Hell, was going to play around in a rare earth mine's scut pond, seeing if I could blow the waste through a nuclear reactor.

    And I heard their confessions, a couple of months before what you'd consider a "natural death," if you were living in a gulag, and had to keep your head down to stay alive.

    So, my best lead on this guy so far was obtaining a licence plate for a car I saw him hop into, and drive away in. Me being me, I thought I'd play the game, under the pretense of "protecting elderly members of the private community I call Home." Give this copper the plate number, and the copper says, after confirming his first name, about 3/4 of the guys record is traffic infringements, long time ago. I shouldn't worry about him. No threat to my elderly friends. No mention of the other 1/4, I understand theres no violence. What there could be, I won't speculate, I was told "not to worry."

    About that time, I mention to the copper, there was some talk of another member of my fathers family that is heretofore unknown to me, when I went across the state for my Nans funeral.

    "You should ask him his surname," I'm told.
    "Why?"
    "This is a spitball, but its hyphenated with something you'd find familiar, as if he may have been married into your family."

    Ok? This is a bit freaking odd! So, I track down members of the family I've not spoken to since my father passed on, and go for broke. Why did my grandparents divorce? Was there an affair? Is there another member of the family I'm not aware of?

    No knowledge. My aunt, my fathers sister, claimed she had "no idea" why her parents divorced.

    Then I ask about my fathers military service. No knowledge. Told the aunt I had no idea Dad was in Signals until well after my telephone technicians trade, when I got my ham radio licence. Mentioned Dad never said one word about his service, but I vividly remember the shortwave receivers he had. The aunt becomes agitated, and I mention I was named after Dads best mate... and their best tech, going on to say I myself had quite some talent a long time ago.

    The aunt says this has nothing to do with her family, no one is in danger, least of all my young niece, and slams the phone in my ear.

    Holy crap, nice to hear from you after three decades aunt, cheers!

    Now, I love a great yarn at the pub when I'm off duty. How do you think the Golden Age sci fi pulp authors got their legs? But to seemingly be living in a conspiracy theory, where everyone you would normally believe might even hear you out, knowing you've done some pretty kooky scientific research work in the past, might just entertain some notion of something just a bit odd about a bloke who can tell the future, and knows all about you and your family, and yet you have no freaking clue who the guy could possibly be.

    I keep hearing "Don't ask questions!" I've been threatened, abused, Hell, the freaking Government guys I've worked with in the past on the more public side of life made an unspecified threat against me, but the man totally changed his character, I've known him a decade, and he has never once been like that with me, even promised me he never would.

    So why is an Odd Man that no one knows shit about so freaking secret?! I mean, the guy is here in town! Has been for a decade!

    And yet, no one cares to even ask about him. Not that he really says much anyway.

    Oh, yeah, this is freaking awesome. I swore I'd just get on my with life, go have a "normal" life, and forget the research I've done.

    Like the stuff on proving the Multi-Worlds Interpretation. Or the stuff on suspected entanglement information transfer. Or superconductors. Or artificial intelligence. Naw, I just want to be a dumb-dumb, and fix bloody trains. Go get a girlfriend. Stop being obsessed with ghosts and stupid conspiracy theories.

    Right.
     
  2. werewolfsonofeire

    werewolfsonofeire
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    [Hit the character limit, gotta remember it for next time].

    I'll give you two clues - the first is an Open Timelike Curve Processing Unit. I first encountered the Closed Timelike Curve Processing Unit in Stephen Baxters "Exultant" and thought, isn't that a nifty idea! Baxter posited using a robot in the CTC to make the computation and return the moment the question was posed, a temporal homing pigeon with a message in a bottle that needed to go Timelike Infinity to get the answer. Effectively, the actual perceived processing time to the observer is ZERO. The actual processing time needed is INFINITE.

    Of course, in a CTC type situation, you could effectively construct a paradox. Now, that just ain't going to happen, because when the processor "jumps back to home" it ain't going to be in its Prime worldline, that Prime worldline will now be a Sub-Prime' worldline, and sometimes, an insignificant detail may be slightly off.

    Say, the Berestein Bears?

    Or that I rented my ex-touring van where this Odd Man came from, but here, I had the proof that I own the van, and rent the site. And yup, the man had the same reaction when I showed him the receipt that I own my van, that matched the same when I first saw a Berestein Bears book with the name Berestain on it. Hell, I walked past one in the kids section of the Town Library the other day. Wrong name, not Samedan.

    So, hes a refugee from his Prime (or original) worldline. My theory suggests, once a worldline goes Sub-Prime' it literally disappears, due to the need for energy to get the refugees across. Thats standard Mandela Effect stuff. So, another detail that is likely off in his Prime worldline is, he had no allowance for causal differences when he came back. He assumed he was on a CTC. Hell, I did until two weeks ago, and then saw the OTC idea, and the penny dropped, given my theory on the Multi-Worlds Interpretation stuff.

    The second is this - I appreciate Titors thesis on why not many, if any time travellers would want to break cover. Hell, even explaining what this guy can do in terms of "prescient" type abilities without using the terms "telepath" or "time travel" to standing authorities so I don't sound cuckoo, despite my heavy theoretical physics research background, is pretty hard. But how about I put it this way?

    I had a bloke here tell me he tired the Stephen Hawking scenario, but instead of "fame" like Hawking used as the lure, this fellow used fiat currency. I actually laughed, and asked "Money ain't worth a damn now, it still ain't gunna be worth a damn in the future mate!"

    Made me wonder then, what could cause a time traveller to want to out himself, even like the situation I'm describing?

    Personal reasons. That'd be the only thing. Titor mentions he was "stopping off [for] personal reasons" that were never disclosed.

    Personal reasons like, I dunno, giving yourself the keys to a machine to save your father. Or better yet, murder your father, closing the Timelike Curve that should've always been open? That makes sense to me, warped, but sense.

    So why be a "sleeper" in an area for ten years, literally toying with people I was yet to met, telling them things they are likely yet to tell me?

    Thats pretty sick, actually.

    If there is any interest in this, I might describe how you'd go through Timelike Infinity, and whats actually stopping us now. I myself am all for the Final Observation, but I can tell you all now, if the theory I got is correct, that Observation won't be Favourable... thats pretty heavy quantum theory, and no, I don't think much of it will end up in the Natural Philosophy academic journals.

    Most days, I wonder, am I insane? Why do I keep chasing these long dead ghosts lost in time, like a dog worrying the memory of a bone that was long thrown away? Why can't I just move on, no matter my desire to?

    Why can't I accept my father is dead, and is never going to come home?

    I suspect the Odd Man might have some answers... I suspect the Odd Man might know what I really am.
     
  3. Debi

    Debi
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    Welcome to the Forum! I have moved your thread into the Experiences area so it does not get covered by other content and lost deep in other threads. As it's a personal experience, it fits well here.

    And may I call you Wolf for short?

    After reading your post(s) three times, I think I am finally coming clear with your exprerience. It has all the shades of the Montauk Project and a few other military ops all wound into one. Synchronisticly, I was listening to a show about this kind of thing last night. I saw your name here this morning and it immediately triggered the memory of the story of a man found washed up to shore at Montauk they called "the werewolf of Montauk".

    I would suggest you read the following story at this link. It may give you more clues in your search. The show itself can be found on Soundcloud.

    11/21: STRANGER THINGS HAPPEN W/ RYAN GABLE - Ground Zero with Clyde Lewis

    There's also a good video in that site that talks about although the TV show Stranger Things is "fiction", it's fact wrapped in fiction and a scientist confirms this. Let me know after reading this if you think this may go along with what is happening in your situation. Even if you don't live in the US, the experiments appear to have been carried out over the world with kids who would have been your age and now also note they have "handlers."
     
  4. Debi

    Debi
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    The link to the show itself on Soundcloud.

     
  5. Debi

    Debi
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    FYI...there is a 1,000 word limit per post.
     
  6. werewolfsonofeire

    werewolfsonofeire
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    Cheers Debi, I appreciate the move of thread. I was a mod on various cyber-security forums in the early-2000s, the sub-forums I ran (usually radiotelephony, and core switching sub-forums) were run like a tight ship. It took some work, and another mod helping me out, and the forum wasn't that up there as I'd imagine this one is, so the thought of not dropping my thread down "the hole" is a good one.

    Wolf is ok, I'm a lone werewolf. I live, fight, and die alone. Only way of life I know.

    You mention children and experiments... yeah, I honestly want to believe I'm insane. I want to believe my really smart friends when I was at school just had enough of life, and threw themselves under trains, or took a bad fit because that was their immediate situation.

    I don't want to remember them being told, you don't want to be like Wolf, always asking questions, always challenging the autocratic rule of the teachers and officials. I don't want to remember overhearing we were to be "dealt with." I try not to imagine what one of my best friends was thinking, just before the auto-coupler of a 3,000 tonne coal train at 120km/h flattened him, and woke up two and half thousand residents of that small outlying town early that morning...

    I can try, and I can fail.

    And I have next to bugger all proof, except this:

    Is your child safe at St Patrick's School Lithgow N.S.W. in 2015?

    That I found by complete accident, I was looking for the records of the primary school mentioned in that blog being a quarry in the late 1800s, perhaps some photos, I like industrial archaeology, that town and its surrounds is full of dead old industry. I have no idea who the author of the blog is, but I suspect I know them very well. A few of my friends have simply vanished, and yes, I've actually asked and gotten nothing.

    And I'm completely digressing from the original thrust of the thread, and hijacking my own thread in one fell swoop.

    No one believes me, all the investigations I've done, all the records that half suggest something off, all the weird co-incidences that seem to make those "synchronicities." Its a story "everyone tells" about a deceased loved one, as if they just knew, so I'm told. People avoid bigger questions like why would six men not be questioned, let alone reviewed, for my fathers passing on grounds of OH&S failures, yet Dad was going to be sacked when a member of the public injured herself, and it wasn't technically his fault, he just was the one pushed under the bus? Why were five of those men dead within three years of my fathers passing, and the last told me a decade later theres no story here, never contact me again?

    This freaking stinks to high Heaven, thats what it does. Some asked me recently, "Do you honestly believe that your family appreciate you dragging these skeletons out of the cupboard all the time?"

    I shot back "Do you honestly believe my father died of a heart attack when the family GP said a blood test three weeks beforehand said what the blockage was was physically impossible?"

    But I can't stop worrying the bone. I can't stop asking questions. Hell, I'm ready to die if needed, I know I've faced down people I learned later were sent to kill me. Like a brown snake, you can't show fear. Show fear, he strikes.

    Yeah, I've had a very colourful life. Even I don't believe I lived through it all.

    And yet, here I am.

    Debi, if this is a military experiment, its pretty big. I'm pretty certain I know of only one thing that could have such a huge effort, and a huge point blank denial of any suggestion of any person who claims they saw things like this to the point where its ingrained in the culture. One thing I am aware of quite intimately is I am able to "sniff" odd things out, and usually by accident. Like two State coppers one night, pulled me up, had a cop car, computer to search my records, the lot. Looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, waddles like a duck, its gotta be a duck, right?

    One of the guys I worked with in cyber-security, he was a duck. You ask him for positive identification, and he'd panic, because the police have a very respected role in our community, only someone as dumb (or as experienced) as myself would challenge a cop like that, and when he acted weird, tell him you'd be more than happy to talk to the Parliament - in person.

    You give an rank and file cop that lip, he'd throw you in a cell. This guy was terrified of me. His "superior" never came into my field of direct view, I never saw the face of that guy because of the light. My mate who was with me that night, 3/4 drunk, has never asked, and I'll likely never tell him, those two blokes weren't cops.

    Thing is, the Odd Man... hes got the exact same training I've got. Except he's deeper than I ever want to know about. Hes a master psyop's guy, how he has gotten this reputation of being a sleazy, untrustworthy bastard, and reveling in it, theres got to be an incident. And I've gotten jack so far, except the guy seems to be a living urban legend. This is a small town, in a clique'y kind of area. People like that don't normally last long in these types of areas. Yet this guy walks around like he is the Lord of the Realm...

    Indeed.

    We were trained to survive, we were trained to fight. We were trained to ignore pain, we were trained to take torture and abuse, and just keep on going. Of all the children I know who were in that situation, there has only been one survivor of that manufactured Hell - the one they were not to be like.

    I'm the survivor. I'm the unlucky one.

    I'll check your resources, one thing I know I need, its coffee. God I want to give that crap up. Not sure how that'll ever work.
     
  7. werewolfsonofeire

    werewolfsonofeire
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    Just as a relatively quick update for now, I brainstormed how I'd get in contact with my guy without breaking a bunch of really up there laws, or putting some innocent people out of jobs.

    Turns out a handwritten letter, given to the police, with the request they forward it to him when they find the time to, and with my understanding that contacting me is then in the blokes hands, did the trick.

    I went for broke, explaining that I believed him to be a heretofore unknown member of the family I've not heard mentioned, that I believe he has information concerning my father, what, I said I would not speculate on, and that I suspected to a lesser degree the bloke might have some information about the scientific research work I've been involved in many years ago.

    Now I wait.
     
  8. Lynne

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    Welcome to the forum.
    First let me say that was a lot to read. Thanks for sharing however I think you had a lot to share and tried to abbriviate the story. Doing this there is obviously a lot of background left out. For someone who does not know your back story this is very hard to make sense of. I tried hard to follow your story line but honestly I’m lost. Perhaps you can pick an area of the story and clarify. I am at this time unable to comment.
     
  9. werewolfsonofeire

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    G'day Lynne,

    Yeah, I'm pretty certain my "mystery" goes back all the way to the time Australia was involved in Vietnam, many years before I was born. Most of the details I am never so clear on, mostly I can say "Logically, if Dad was going to be sacked because he was the 'responsible person' under the law when a woman injured herself, but six of his workmates allowed him to die by seeming negligence without even a proper enquiry, therefore, logically that doesn't make sense..." kind of stuff. Its surmising that if an odd event has happened by way of a report, its likely the odd event did not play out that exact way, or it simply did not happen. Its compounded by way of intense suggestions of a massive coverup, the Odd Man I've been encountering of late is now the icing on this cake.

    Perhaps I'll start with the day my father passed on, and what caused that "perfect storm" plus some background? That might put you where I stumbled across this entire thing for the first time, but revelations were many decades off in most cases... the niggling feelings never left me that something was very, very wrong with what I've understood about what I was told...

    I'm the son of a railway worker and a homemaker (the common term now), my father having served in the military on the draft for the Signals Corps, but never deployed to 'Nam, our involvement was over by the time they were ready to send his squad over. He was a hard worker, and a tough man, but I remember he was fair, and more than willing to think outside the box to help me, at that time, an undiagnosed autistic savant. Of my fathers five children across two marriages, I'm the only one who bears his name. I'm told now I was his favourite, he was very fond of me.

    He also named me after his best mate in his squad, their best technician, kept Dad out of trouble, so it seems.

    Of course, I've always been fascinated by trains, and Dad was more than happy to feed that obsessive desire, and leading up to his death, he promised me a ride with him on the trains into the City. Yeah, you can imagine what that did to me, considering I hardly ever saw him at that point. What I did not know until I myself had left a position as a rail safety officer as an adult many decades later was that Dad had operated a set of doors while not in the correct position, and despite his best efforts to have the train move into the correct position (by signalling the driver by way of a bell - radios sucked badly back then) a woman passenger injured herself when she fell out of the train onto the track.

    Dad was going to be fired. He was lucky his boss even considered allowing me there after that. They were waiting for the enquiry, the review of the OH&S Board, and that would be that.

    Dad was also a heavy smoker, an alcoholic, and a chronic overworker, considering my now estranged mother was literally spending every cent we didn't have on credit card purchases and high interest debts. House loans were 18% back then, if anyone did anything of that sort now, you'd likely shoot them. My estranged mother has no idea what she has done, I've literally tried to explain to her she basically killed my father... and she can't understand why I live alone in the middle of nowhere, a hermit, and I hardly talk to anyone.

    Then again, did he actually die the way we were told?

    The day Dad died, it appears he drowned in a literal perfect storm of an insanity he willing created. A massive heart attack dropped him, he was dead before he hit the platform, about an hour after leaving me at the schoolgate. He was cremated three days later, his ashes interred near our old family home. I totally withdrew, and became intently bullied, and the rest of my family literally ignored me.

    Life moved on. Or so we thought.
     
  10. werewolfsonofeire

    werewolfsonofeire
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    About a decade later, while in senior high school, I was assisting the best compensation solicitor in the district in the compensation enquiry into the negligence surrounding Dads passing. Barry was more a mining kind of guy, we had moved back to the family Home in the Mountains, it was a heavily industrialised place, its primary industry at that time was underground coal mining. Rail safety and policy wasn't Barry's world - but I knew about it. I was also an underage high school kid, so anything I did was pretty much off the books.

    I did get asked if I wanted to be sponsored to be a barrister. Sadly, I told Barry it compromised my morals ("Solicitors lie for a living" so I thought) and I'd rather fix electric locomotives. I will never stop kicking myself, I gotta admit. And no, I never fixed a loco, I ended up with the phone company instead.

    At this time, I myself was a complete loner, I hardly talked to anyone outside my family, and it was well known I was slightly touched. Despite this, older members of the Government departments and agencies had a bit of time for my counsel. It was in this light, I obtained the number for the Station Master of the station where Dad passed on that morning from one of Dads old workmates. Making the call, I was told something extremely odd.

    "You're B[...]'s son?"
    "Yes sir, I am."
    "No story here Wolf. Your father is dead. Move on."
    "Sir, I'm trying to obtain information..."
    "Yeah. Well, theres nothing to say. Oh, do me a favour, don't call any of the other blokes, everyone who was there that day apart from me was dead within three years, their families want nothing to do with this. I'd appreciate it if you didn't contact me again."

    I've added my own emphasis in the key odd detail that always seems to be ignored when I explain this verbally.

    How did five blokes all die within three years of my fathers death? Seems rather odd. I've been told recently the Coroners Report would have the names of all those men on it, I can then search the Ryerson Index, then obtain obits, etc, confirm that fact. There are two copies, the easist to access should be in my estranged mothers possession.

    I've requested various documents concerning my father a dozen times in the last few months. I'm at the point where my solicitor is going to get involved, I blew my top at my sister for making up excuses to not scan and copy a photo of me I'm needing that is crucial to identifying the Odd Man. Basically, that comes down to narcissistic laziness, and that I'm always going to be a stupid, crazy little boy in their eyes.

    My final posit for you all on odd events surrounding my fathers passing is that he always drove into the depot in town to clock on. It seems just coincidental that the very last day Dad was alive, he walked me into school, and then caught the train into the depot.

    What that means is, that the child who was named for the man is the very last of his loved ones to see him alive.

    "Everyone who has had a loved one pass on tells a story just like that... as if the person who was about to die knew something..."

    Really? Dad had no idea he was going to die, it was a freak accident. And it was just a bloody coincidence, right?

    I'll aliken the promise I swore that afternoon, when I was told Dad was never coming home from work to Dr Katarina Jones from the Syfy series of the 12 Monkeys becoming obsessed with the time machine to save her daughter from dying. The words I said were:

    I don't care what it takes Dad, I will come back for you...

    Many years later, a former Dean of a uni department, a nuclear physicist I worked for, and regarded as an intellectual father and confidant, confessed to me a number of scientific postulates that I knew wasn't in his normal character, as he told me things that would "offend" the Church of Einstein, of which my professor indulged me with offending one day, only to prove me wrong on FTL theory.

    My professor told me what I'd need to do to travel through time. Something had scared him, and badly. Those confessions were the second last thing I ever heard him say, the last being his final goodbye.

    Four months later, he was dead.
     

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