Hangar Forty Two was on an old air force base in the middle of Suffolk. Far enough away from London to be inconspicuous, near enough to be well placed for visiting VIPs. The air-base itself melted into the endless greenery and well-tended countryside - it made a discrete add-on to the local town. It was nothing too secretive as that only attracts more attention. It was just another part-used, slightly run-down military base and airfield as far as the locals were concerned.
A few people on the actual base knew that a restricted entry zone existed and that it contained Hanger Forty Two. They knew that it was more than merely out-of-bounds. They knew it was quite possibly to do with the so-called 'Black Ops’. These were military operations that didn't officially exist and weren't funded via the normal streams.
There was an RAF information officer whose task it was to put out the odd cover story. His latest wheeze was that Hanger Forty Two was a testing lab for experimental microwave weapons. They had loved that down at the Stag in the local town of Bentwaters. Every six months or so he would put some new gossip out onto the grapevine. That seemed to work fairly well. Of course, the information officer didn't actually know what he was covering up. He'd been misinformed.
Some vaguely secret work did go on in the main hangar but the real business was elsewhere. It was certainly nearby, but hidden so well it was blindingly obvious.
Alistair Civil, the head of the agency-with-no-name had personally driven out to the nearest large town, Woodbridge, to pick Monty up from the London train. Normally he would have sent an assistant but Monty needed some extra preparation in Alistair’s view. Monty was from their Nature-technics department and had come down from the Scottish HQ especially. They were both strange men from an even stranger organisation. It was all a front, as one of the two men knew only too well.
They were driving smoothly through some new suburbs and across the long open country lanes in Alistair's slightly weatherworn Vauxhall saloon. With his slender finger tips toying with the cool steering wheel, he daydreamed happily. Whatever the custom wheel was made of was a mystery. But one thing was for certain; Alistair thought with a little glow of triumph, it would be very, very expensive. Mood-enhancing steering wheels didn't come cheap. The car had all sorts of conveniences and comforts not usually available. It was all carefully engineered not to attract attention. A brand new, modified and customised vehicle dusted down to look like an ageing family car. Thanks to the Tesla-engine one only had to put fuel in it once a year which was a considerable plus.
Monty grew tired of watching the large, spacious fields that edged the wide country roads. He was used to being hemmed in by mountains or forest up at the facility in Argyll near the Highlands. This land was just too flat and open. Too cultivated and tame. Somehow it made him even more uneasy. He shifted round to look at Alistair. He was just the same. That man never seemed to age.
‘I never entirely understood what the agency’s post-brain research is all about,’ Monty said, trying to sound a little flippant and failing miserably. ‘You know, what with me being stuck in entity research and all.’ Monty knew the agency prized his cleverness but think too far outside the box and they might decide your genius wasn’t worth the risk. Monty had spent his whole career balancing up his brilliant insight with contrived dumbness.
Alistair sighed quietly. ‘A brain isn't the only thing you can think with Monty. Do away with your dependence on that one piece of organic hardware and the possibilities are vast.’
‘Yes, I see...’
‘So Monty old chap, this is it then?’ Alistair noted dryly, changing tack.
‘I, I guess so. I heard you managed to get the Virtual Tracker back.’
‘We did indeed. I can fill you in on that if you like.’
‘Yes I was wondering about that situation. Most advanced nature-tech I’ve ever worked..’
‘..The frog mind-entity,’ cut in Alistair, ‘the Mind-Ware 6, did go missing but we have him right back fully under wraps - where he belongs eh? At least if we can believe Zero's reports.’
‘That’s the unhinged free-lancer who calls himself, "The Leader" isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s him. If you want something desperate doing, give him a call. We're about to tell him to home in on Operative 4, the disabled neurode who has the ruro material. Unless we get a change of plan from the big man upstairs,’ Alistair pointed upwards with his left hand in case Monty was wondering who he was referring to.
Alistair entered the outskirts of Bentwaters town. It wasn't far now till they reached the base. For a few minutes both men were quiet. After the small well-to-do housing estate the main road was a broad but nondescript affair. Only Peter’s Pets and Chan’s Chinese Takeaway caught Monty’s eye.
As they headed out of town Monty could not contain himself any longer, ‘You know, I'd rather you talk to it if you don't mind.’ Monty said.
Alistair smiled inwardly. He'd just notched up another point against his wayward colleague.
‘Does our friend the Elif really get to you that much?’ remarked Alistair casually, faking a little concern.
‘I think it’s just, like, you are more on its wavelength. You have a deeper understanding of it,’ added Monty. He realised the moment the words left his mouth that an underhand insult, and an equally underhand compliment, probably wouldn't work in the same sentence. Alistair grinned, two points to none. Monty was out of practice when it came to talking to people – too much time spent in the lab experimenting.
‘We'll both speak to it. At this crucial point in time the big fellow will probably want our full attention,’ Alistair accented the word ‘full’.
Monty was worried. This was getting to be more ominous by the minute. For a start, he didn't fully buy into all this extra-terrestrial stuff. He knew the hardware worked. The off-worlders were real enough. He just didn't agree with the extent to which they were involved. He wondered to himself if there were some other way.
‘Someone, someday, is going to rumble my lack of sincerity,’ thought Monty to himself. Next thing he'd know he'd find himself dead - and that was if he was lucky. If he were unlucky he’d be drug-patched and micro-chipped. End of free will, end of story, end of the real Monty. He’d just be a slave. ‘Perhaps I am already,’ Monty thought darkly.
And this Alistair guy, he was positively dangerous. His smiles and jokes, the friendly banter, hid something deeper, something not altogether nice. Hell, it was something not altogether human, Monty decided. It was like he could read people's minds. He was just waiting for the right time to push a man off the nearest cliff.
Even the special-ops officers afforded him a wary respect. He was certainly the closest to the Elif. This made him a very powerful man. Monty didn't want to think about all that. He made himself picture his wife's lovely floral arrangements instead. Sometimes he would join her in that hobby. Flower arranging made such a nice change from his usual male-dominated life.
‘Monty old man, I’ve just been thinking about how damn drab my office has become - all that green leather and dark wood. You wouldn’t believe how much time us poor pen-pushers have to spend cooped up in there. Not like you scientist chaps,’ Alistair remarked in a friendly tone. ‘Maybe I’ll stop at the corner shop and pick up some flowers to brighten it up eh? The men might think I’ve gone soft though.’ Alistair smiled one of his more unnerving smiles.
Monty smiled and then sank further into his seat. They passed through a check-point and swiftly entered the air-force base. Despite the fences, the cameras and the odd passing army truck, the place seemed quite empty, deserted even. The base had a sense of spaciousness as if it was insulated from the rest of time and space.
They were headed toward a large hanger on the eastern side of the base. Eventually they reached the car park near it. There was another set of security here. The further checks completed, Alistair took the single parking space marked ‘A’. They left the car and headed for a side entrance to the hanger.
‘Welcome to Hangar Forty Two David Adams Institute. Sorry, I'll have to check your ID Sir. Thank-you Sir.’
After their plastic and paper ID had been checked both men looked up as the camera scanned their retinas. The camera looked like any old cheap internet camera. Alistair’s thumbprint on the gel scanner and they were in.
As they walked away the slightly smug expression of the army security officer clung to Monty's mind. That man knew something - something dark and sinister, but somehow amusing at the same time. It unnerved him.
No great surprises here thought Monty. Inside they passed sleeping jets, helicopters, various gun-type devices. Everywhere there were stacks of complicated looking hardware. If it wasn't for the fact that all this artistry was devoted to the science of killing people, it could have been backstage at a Rolling Stones gig.
Here and there stood squares of well-padded office chairs in a neutral blue. There were workstations arranged in clusters. Military officers passed them with a friendly nod or a hello. They seemed absorbed in their own worlds. Eventually Monty and Alistair reached a makeshift set of rooms that had been built against the far side of the hangar.
‘Welcome,’ Alistair said turning the various keys. ‘These are my private rooms. My own portal to another world, you could say. My actual office is just offsite in case you’re wondering. I like to have a nice view of the whole base. Now, let’s take you through old man.’
Both men entered the room. As Monty went to step through to the room he felt as though he had just been stretched in both space and time. His body and mind felt not quite his own. A green mist filled his thinking.
The room itself seemed to have been imported from another decade. An old PC stood on a cheap desk. There were various yellowing certificates and awards framed on the walls. A plug in electric clock stood on the desk next to some dusty old military photographs.
‘We need to visit a very special area. My little community within a community one could say. I like to keep a low profile there so if anybody asks we're both military physicists. We're part of some consciousness experiment but we don't know the details. Right-ho, let’s be off.’
Monty continued to not say a word.
‘It's this way.’
Alistair headed over to the fire-exit and tapped a five-digit code into the keypad next to the door. Some magnets released with a low click and Alistair pushed the door open. They entered a dark and damp stairwell, poorly lit by emergency lighting.
‘Watch your step Monty, it’s a bit damp. Only I use this entrance...And my special guests of course.’ The pause between the sentences was slightly threatening.
Monty counted forty eight large stone steps as they descended in silence. There was another fire-exit type door with a keypad like the one in Alistair’s room. This pad had a yellowed plastic weatherproof covering. He entered another code then waited for some time. There was a double click. This indicated it was time to enter the last code.
‘The locking device has to check all’s clear,’ Alistair explained as he pushed the door open.
They found themselves in a toilet. Alistair pulled the fire-exit door shut behind him and went to use one of the urinals. Monty joined him. The toilet was lit by a soft green light that seemed to have no apparent source. Monty briefly felt the same strange stretching, disembodied sensation he had felt upon entering Alistair's room in the Hanger above. This place seemed to exist in a different kind of space altogether.
After they had finished their ablutions they entered the main area. Again, it was like stepping into another world, a contrast that that would stay with Monty for some time.
‘Welcome to the “Hang-Out” as we like to call it.’ Alistair said grandly, pleased with the effect the whole experience was having on Monty. ‘These chumps haven't the slightest idea they are part of one of the greatest experiments ever conducted,’ he whispered conspiratorially.
‘Looks like no experiment I've ever seen.’
‘This, all around you Monty, is an engine room,’ explained Alistair patiently, ‘it supplies raw power to the entity. This power transmutes and strengthens the signals the entity gets from the outside world.’
‘So, it’s a bit like a condenser, an amplifier for the Elif?’
‘That’s about right, Monty. Condensing and purifying the incoming signals for our good friend upstairs,’ Alistair winked conspiratorially.
‘Well it’s one bizarre engine room,’ Monty commented, still a little awe-struck.
’Right-ho. Act normal. I know that’s a tall order, but here come some of the inhabitants.’
Alistair initiated a conversation on physics as a group of musicians walked past. When they were safely out of earshot he dropped the conversation mid-sentence. The two men stood in silence on the polished oak flooring. They were off to one side of a huge lounge bar. Upon the wall hung a six-foot wide flat-screen. It was showing computer animations based on fractal patterns. These patterns were tuned into the background music but somehow also reflected the observer’s thoughts. The patterns became more intense when concentrated upon and faded away when looked at from an angle. The screen appeared slightly differently to each person. The colours and detail seemed impossibly intense.
Monty wondered where the windows were before he remembered they were underground. The lights were dimmed and candles burnt romantically at each table. The atmosphere was spacious and somehow wonderful. Enchanting smells of deep forest wafted in through the powerful air-conditioning, subtle hints in the background of one's mind. Intelligent looking people reclined with their hushed shoes resting on expensive leather stools. Most were sat on their own reading books. The armchairs and settees looked like they would take an act of will just to get up from. The bar itself was enormous, big enough for four or five hundred people. There were about a dozen customers sat here and there. Some were sipping at drinks in huge white cups. This was Monty's idea of heaven.
‘Everyone you see here is a psychic, a gifted musician, a talented writer, something along those lines. But very few know what this place is really about. We conduct the odd thought experiment now and then. We tell those lucky enough to be invited here that it’s all about getting the atmosphere right. But really all we want is the thought energy. See those air con’ vents.’ Alistair pointed to the regularly placed circular vents dotted upon the ceiling. ‘Defocus your eyes and look at one of them. What do you see?’
Just then the band started up. It was pure unadulterated magic, music of a new era. Was it jazz or classical or Indian raga? He couldn’t tell. Monty followed Alistair over to a huge 3-seater brown leather sofa. Daydreaming, he defocused his eyes and watched one of the circular ceiling vents. The beautiful music continued to pour over his soul. His fears about meeting the Elif were briefly forgotten.
After some time Monty realised he could see swirls of blue and yellow energy moving in time to the enchanting music. These swirls were centred on the vents. The energy was being collected.
‘Have you adjusted your vision? That’s good. It’ll be useful where we're going,’ Alistair remarked casually.
The fear appeared from nowhere and started to rise again in Monty's guts. He sipped at the perfect tea that had been brought over and placed on an expensive oak side-table next to the sofa. After the music had finished Alistair arose and with a brief raise of his eyebrows indicated that Monty was to follow.
Alistair and Monty wandered about the 'Hang-Out' for some time. There was an indoor market place with everything from strange looking vegetables and fruits to crystal balls. Nothing however was for sale. If you wanted something you just took it. The fear continued. Monty put his paranoia down to the forthcoming meeting with the Elif.
They passed rooms where groups of people were meditating. There were other rooms where people were holding ropes connected to strange barrels filled with water and stones. Everyone seemed to belong with some group or other, or was otherwise detached but engaged. There was no great friendliness but an all-pervading calm was felt throughout.
Eventually Alistair and Monty reached what felt like the centre of the complex. In a round concrete column stood an ordinary looking elevator door, big enough to admit two at a time. Alistair pressed the down button and waited. Inside, the elevator was an ordinary metal button pad. Alistair pressed 'U1'. When the lift was moving he quickly pressed 'U1' again then another fast sequence. A spring-loaded catch gave way smoothly. An exquisitely engineered mechanism glided the whole keypad out. The lift stopped. Alistair flipped the keypad back to front and replaced it into the wall with a practised action. He then tapped a code into the numeric keypad that had now been revealed. A thin metal tube extended itself from the wall. It pointed at Alistair's forehead.
‘Don't worry Monty, this is just our latest security device. Telepathic thought entry codes. We still use retina scanning and gel-prints just to be on the safe side though.’
Alistair placed his thumb on a small gel-pad to the left of the keypad. The two men looked up at the camera in the corner of the elevator. Their retinas scanned, a green LED light came on and the lift started to move downwards again. After a few seconds had passed the lift stopped. The doors opened on to the edge of an astonishing room.
‘Welcome to our subterranean nerve-centre,’ Alistair remarked casually with a long sweep of his arm. They both stepped out from the elevator and onto the sumptuous black carpet. They were in a large circular room. On the floor, woven into the carpet, were long, transparent light-conducting tubes. They radiated outward from the centre of the room like spokes on a wheel. Blue and yellow globules of energy continually passed along the thin tubes toward the outer wall of the building. Here they turned upwards, traversed the outer wall and returned back along the ceiling toward the centre of the room. Apart from the tubes and the carpet the whole room appeared empty. Monty noticed that there was a subtle, golden geometric grid woven into the black carpet. It reminded him of a microchip.
Monty felt heavy. It was almost as if there was too much reality in the room. Gravity had been concentrated like soup. The air, although chilly, was still dense. Monty thought he could see subtle blue and yellow swirling mists moving here and there in the half-light.
‘Lights,’ said Alistair. A subdued blue glow filled the room.
Monty could now see that there was a raised circular platform in the centre of the round room. It was here that optical tubes converged from the ceiling’s centre. They entered the top, of what looked like a huge cylindrical fish tank.
It stood about six-foot high and was at least three-foot wide. Beside the tank were two black hydraulic office chairs, the kind with their own wheels on castors. Inside the tank was a blue liquid-gel substance - now lit from within. In fact, most of the blue light was actually coming from the tank. It was glowing.
‘Electrical lighting interferes with the device’s functioning. This is free plasma lighting. I quite like it myself. You’d better sit down Monty and prepare yourself. I’m used to all this, what to say? Journeying?’
Monty thought Alistair was being slightly too friendly now. Exactly what was at stake here? Monty could clearly see the swirls of blue and yellow energy moving around the still atmosphere of the room. There were also small dancing white bubbles that appeared here and there. If he had not been so scared he would have found the sight quite entrancing.
‘This is it Monty old man. We've had plenty time to get used to things I’m afraid. The big guy wants our attention so my hands are tied. Unfortunately, there are specific instructions should you prove...unhelpful,’ Alistair smiled. ‘Not that I’d want to use them of course. It’s just business. I'll go first. See you up there Monty.’
Alistair sat in one of the office chairs next to the side of the tank. As he approached the tank the gel-like contents seemed to swirl and move. The colour changed becoming more intense. Small darts of red free-formed at random within the liquid. Monty thought it was like watching some kind of plasmatic silicon chip. However, there wasn't an electrical plug anywhere in sight.
There were two areas of the tank that had differently textured material. These areas were oval and large enough to frame a human head. They were set at mid-height in the tank. Alistair moved his head toward one of these areas and gently pressed his forehead against it. Although the surface looked hard, once touched within the oval it stretched like cling-film. The transparent material contoured itself to Alistair's head.
Monty thought it was almost like birth in reverse. Alistair forced his whole head through. The plastic suddenly gave way then clung to the sides of his neck without losing a drop of the tank's precious contents. The red shots of energy increased dramatically in speed and number. They darted mechanically up and down, making sharp ninety-degree turns before disappearing.
The bursts of energy began to form patterns moving out from where Alistair had planted his head. He breathed the liquid in, taking long deep gasps. He didn't look in any way shocked. He was merely exhilarated, as if he had dived into freezing cold waters for the sheer fun of it. Alistair turned his head to the side, smiled and then beckoned for Monty to follow his lead. Monty did so. He knew that if he did not he was as good as dead.
On the round roof of Hanger Forty Two a small dish homed in on a signal. The signal came from a black globe satellite travelling high above the Earth. Locking in on its target the dish produced a small tube that pointed at the black sphere far above. Small electrical motors whirled with well-oiled efficiency till the tube and satellite were suitably aligned. A blue laser-like light could now vaguely be seen. Monty and Alistair entered the mind of the Elif. The laser turned red.