The other five he put in a similar gray NBC envelope and spent the next hour trying to figure out what to do with it. First, he put it on a shelf behind the Rexograph machine. Ten minutes later, nervous that it would be found, he moved it to below the Reuters machine. Twenty minutes later, he moved it behind the Xerox machine. He had never felt this guilty or self-conscious before. He moved the envelope five more times before he finally decided to hide it in the men’s room under the sink. At 7:55 the 8 a.m. shift was in and Peter signed out. He went to the men’s room, retrieved the stuffed envelope, and slid it under his winter coat. He headed for the elevators feeling as though he’d robbed a bank. Only when he was safely aboard the uptown Lexington Ave. local did he abandon his usual place in the front car looking out the front window of the train and risk peeking into the envelope.
Harmonic Epsilon
by
Blake C. Lathie
1968 Auckland, New Zealand.
Printed in Hong Kong.
He turned to the first page.
I have never been abducted by aliens, nor have I ever chatted in Venusian with a green skinned, extra terrestrial; in fact, I’ve never even seen a flying saucer! That’s not what this book is about. This book is a call to anyone reading it to refute or reinforce the evidence I have stumbled upon which supports the existence of UFOs. I have taken these mathematical formulas as far as I can with my rudimentary knowledge of math; maybe someone out there with access to the new, large calculating machines can further the work or, again, refute it.
That sent a chill down Peter’s spine. It was an ominous opening for not only the book but for the next chapter of Peter’s life. He flipped through the pages and saw lots of mathematical formulas. There were charts, maps, and tables. Normally after a double shift Saturday night, Peter got off the train on Gunhill Road and went straight to the 9 a.m. Sunday mass at Immaculate Conception. On this day, he went right home and started reading. He read about the Bermuda Triangle, Easter Island, the Lines of Nasscar, Vortexes, and the Grid. The Grid was the principle argument in the book. Somehow, the Grid was inexorably linked to other physical phenomena of the Earth. The Grid’s effect on man was considerable but unknown to the world. In fact, except for the postulates presented in the book in his hand, the Grid didn’t exist. The geometry and power of the Grid was a discovery awaiting revelation, until this book put it together.
There was little in this book that Peter had ever heard before. Even the math was strange. It was centered on a number system based on 2.73 or Epsilon. Some of the equations were navigational; others dealt in something called harmonics that he hadn’t a clue about. At 2 p.m., his phone rang.
“Peter, it’s Kasiko. You didn’t leave the key under the phone.”
“Aw, shit! Damn it! I’m sorry. I did lock the drawers, right?”
“Yes, you did that.”
“Mr. K, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to run in there right now and bring you the key?”
“No Peter, I have another key. Bring your key by my house tonight. A few members from the committee are meeting around 7 p.m.”
Peter hung up the phone with relief. He’d screwed up, but now he got a second chance to meet with some of the men on the committee.
He put on the TV to see if there was a Giants game on. The black-and-white set was tuned to Channel 13 and a show called “The Open Mind” was on. He adjusted the rabbit ear antenna on the top of the Sears-Roebuck TV. Lewis Rukeyser was interviewing Dr. Ensiling and they were talking about whether or not nuclear power would ever be safe enough to deliver the promise it once held. Ensiling maintained that it was safe in the American design of double-walled reactors, but that the rest of the world didn’t have that technology and therefore as other countries became nuclear dependent the danger level would rise as less-safe reactors went into operation. He then almost casually threw in the point that, of course, the problem of nuclear waste is still to be adequately resolved, but in 10 years maybe they’ll have figured it out.
When the program was over, Peter was blown away.
Peter handed the key to Kasiko as soon as he entered. As he said hello to everyone, he couldn’t get his eyes off Ensiling. It was sudden hero worship, as if Y.A. Tittle, the New York Giants quarterback, was in the room. Peter said nothing but listened intently to every word that flew around the table. They were speaking Hungarian politics and the politics of Europe as a whole. As dinner was served, one of the men asked Peter his thoughts on the SALT agreement. He felt a momentary wave of panic welling up inside him, and then he remembered that Ensiling had mentioned SALT in the show. He quickly rifled through the main points as he remembered them. “Well, I don’t know too much about it, but the problem is the two-headed serpent that nuclear power is. One head is the peaceful use, which is inherently dangerous, except for the United States reactors. But if we gave the world our design, then they’ll be that much closer to making high-quality atomic fuel for bombs.” And there in one succinct sentence was the summation of Peter’s day of watching TV. The only thing he’d left out was the Brylcreem commercial.
“My, what a colorful analogy,” another scientist named Brodenchy said. “A doubled-headed serpent; how insightful.”
“Peter, you are correct. But are you suggesting we limit the proliferation of nuclear energy?”
“Well… no. We could operate it for all the other countries then we can make sure it’s only used for peaceful means.”
“Peter, there are so many geo-political problems with that solution that I can’t even start.”
“Oh.” Peter was a little deflated.
Ensiling noticed his embarrassment. “Now you can’t blame Peter for his America-centric view of the world. He is, after all, the only American at this table.”
Peter smiled and felt that Prof. Ensiling was a nice guy because he was speaking up for him.
At one point, someone asked for mustard and Kasiko warned, “Only take a little; it’s very hot, you know.”
“Yeah, a little dab will do ya,” Peter said making it a clean sweep for Sunday afternoon TV.
After dinner, they retired to the living room. There, the talk turned to the committee. Most of it was procedural: when to plan future meetings, creating subcommittees, and the timing of interim reports. Eventually, the subject got to the book.
“Have the reports from Egypt come in yet?”
“No, we hope to have them by early next week.”
“Kasiko, do you have the document?”
“Yes. Thanks to Peter I have a copy for each of you on the Harmonic Sub committee.” He then doled out the books that Peter had copied. He returned the original to Prof. Ensiling. Thank you for bringing this to us.”
“I was never so nervous in all my life going through customs.”
Peter resisted the urge to add,
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Alizir had finished his morning prayers, he rattled his chain, the signal he had trained his captors to understand meant, “Bring me my food.” These Infidels were fools, He had braced himself for the worst after the stories of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay. He thought they would surely torture him. But yesterday, he sent back his lunch because his meat was undercooked. They weren’t guards; they were servants. This wasn’t a country to be
