1: Project Moonbeam is allegedly a secret government plan to either fake an alien invasion of earth or the second coming of Christ or other deities
2: It’s a secret black op the government is running, where I guess people from the future are coming to us from 300 years later warning us about the corruption of government, and where humanity is heading, supposedly they are the ones who have exposed the Illuminati and the new world order
While the Senator was searching for paper trails that might reveal the secrets of Montauk, I knew that they would not solve my personal mysteries one bit. I had been recognized by people I didn’t know, and it was obvious that I had severe memory blocks. What made things so hard to reconcile was that I had a full set of “normal” memories which told me where I had been.
My memory improved while working with Duncan, and I eventually realized that I must have been existing on two separate time tracks. As bizarre as it may sound, it was the only sensible explanation under the circumstances.
As my memory was still largely blocked, there were three avenues of approach to the problem. First, I could simply try to remember the other time track, through regression or hypnosis. This proved to be very difficult for me and was virtual of no use. Secondly, I could look for clues and hints (in our normal time track) that the other time track did, in fact, exist. Thirdly, I could try to find the answers through technology. This would include theories of how the other time track was created and how I ended upon it.
The third approach was the easiest. I am told that many people might find this very confusing, but I was familiar with the theories of the Philadelphia Experiment and was not intimidated by physics or electromagnetics. I found it plausible. The second approach also proved extremely helpful, but clues were hard to come by. It was now in 1989. I started to roam around the plant at BJM, where I was still working. I would talk to different people and dredge up what information I could without trying to appear suspicious. I would also walk around and just sense my own personal gut reaction to the different places in the plant.
I became particularly irritated when I would come to a certain room. My innards would just churn. I sensed very strongly that there was something in that room that was disturbing me. I had to investigate it. I rang the doorbell and was told that I couldn’t come in. It was a high-security area. Reportedly, only ten people at the plant had the proper clearance to be in that room.
I found that virtually no one knew anything about it. Finally, I did find two people who’d been in there, but they said they couldn’t tell me anything. One of them must have turned me in because the security personnel visited me shortly thereafter. It was time to lay low for a while.
About a year after my futile investigation, the room was totally cleared out. The doors were open and anyone could walk right in. It was obvious that there had been all sorts of equipment. Dirt markings revealed that four-round things had stood on the floor. I presumed they were coil structures. It was clear that there had been a console. There was also a huge power line that still ran into the room. The entire place gave me the creeps, but I was driven to find all I could.
I discovered an elevator in the back of the room. I got in and found only two buttons: Main Floor and Sub Floor. There was also a numbered keypad. I pushed the button for Sub Floor and tried to go down, but the elevator would only go so far. I heard a voice that told me to punch in the properly coded numbers on the keypad. I didn’t have the code and a beeping noise went off for about thirty seconds. Security was alerted. I had hit another dead end.
I wasn’t scoring any points with security, and it was time to lay low once again. I began to think of how I could show that something very unusual was going on.
I also recalled earlier strange experiences that had occurred while working at BJM. There was a period when, all of a sudden, a band-aid would appear on my hand. It hadn’t been there fifteen minutes ago! I couldn’t remember putting it on. This happened more than a few times.
One day, I had been sitting at my desk and my hand suddenly started to ache. The back of the hand was sore, and there was a band-aid on it. I absolutely knew that I had not put that band-aid on nor had I had it put on. I became very suspicious. I got up and went down to the nurse.
I said to her, “This may sound wacky, but was I in here for a band aid?”
“No, you weren’t in here,” she told me.
I asked her where I’d gotten it and she said, “You must’ve gotten it from one of the first aid kits. Don’t you remember?”
“I’m just trying to figure it out,” I said, and I walked out. I thought in my mind, “I’m not going to get a band-aid at BJM except from the company nurse.” I wanted a record, so I made a conviction that I would never use a first aid kit.
I eventually remembered the reason I had sustained so many injuries to my hands. In my alternate reality, I frequently had to move different equipment. I was just about the only one who could move it as most people would go wacky when they’d get near it. For some reason, it didn’t seem to bother me. But it was heavy and hard to maneuver. With no one to assist me, bruised hands and band-aids became a regular occurrence.
I kept to my conviction not to use any band-aids from first aid kits. I continued to check with the nurse when they appeared, and the records indicated I’d never been to her.
As this was an irregularity, she must have reported it to security. They visited me and said, “Why are you asking about band-aids, Mr. Nichols?” I knew better than to pursue that anymore.
Recalling these experiences with the band-aids helped spur my memory back to 1978. I remembered sitting at my workbench one day. All of a sudden, I smelled the scent of burning transformers. It was pungent, like the smell of burning tar. It came and disappeared very fast. This happened at 9:00 o’clock in the morning. The rest of the day continued as normal until 4:00 o’clock in the afternoon when the whole plant began to smell like putrid smoke from burning transformers.
I thought to myself, “That’s the same smell I smelled at 9:00 o’clock this morning.” But now it occurred to me that the event probably hadn’t happened at the time I had thought. You can’t burn up a transformer and have the smell disappear as fast as it had that morning.
Many more events of this nature had occurred. Each puzzle tended to confuse the general issue. Streams of unfamiliar people continued to recognize me. I began to get executive mail that would normally be for the vice president of a company. For instance, I would be asked to come to a conference concerning patents. I didn’t know what they were talking about. I was also called to meetings with a certain executive. He always appeared very agitated whenever we spoke.
Most of the inquiries I received from these people were about the Moonbeam Project. I didn’t know what it was. But one day, I had an intuitive urge. The basement of the BJM building in Melville had a very high-security area. Consciously, I had no clearance to be in that area, but I walked in anyway. Normally, when you walk from one security area to another, you must hand the guard your badge and he gives you another badge (with a different designation). This permits you to walk in the secure area. I simply went in and gave him my badge from the lesser security area, and what do you know? He gave me a badge with my name on it! I’d had a hunch and it worked.
I walked around and let the churning in my gut determine what direction I should go in. I ended up in a posh mahogany-paneled office. There was a large desk with a nameplate on it that read, “Preston B. Nichols, Assist Project Director”. This was the first tangible physical proof I had that something out of the ordinary was definitely occurring. I sat at the desk and looked through all the papers. It was impossible to take the papers out of the place as I knew I would be searched very thoroughly on my way out of this high-security area. So, I committed everything I saw to memory, to the best of my ability. I had an entire second career here that I knew almost nothing about! I can’t even talk about most of it. It is a top secret. I’m bound not to mention it for thirty years because of an agreement I signed when I went to work for BJM. However, I didn’t sign a single thing regarding the activities of the Montauk Project.
Sifting through the material, I spent about six hours in my newly discovered office. Then, I decided I’d better get back to my regular job before the day was through. I handed back my badge and walked out. A couple of days went by before I decided it was time to go back and check things out again. Once more, I handed the guard my badge, but this time he didn’t give me anything back. He said, “By the way, Mr. Roberts (fictitious name) wants to see you.”
A man, Mr. Roberts, came out of an office that had “Project Director” written on it. He looked at me and said,
“What do you want to come in here for, sir?”
“To get to my other desk,” I replied.
He said, “You don’t have any other desk here.”
I pointed to the office where my desk had been. But as I entered the room with the Project Director, I found it to be gone. In a couple of days since I’d been there, they had removed every trace of myself from the room.
Somebody must have realized that I had visited my office when I wasn’t supposed to. I had entered in an ordinary state of mind which was not to their liking. They apparently had not turned on the program (switching me to an alternate reality) for that particular day and must have been wondering why I’d shown up. They must have concluded that the process was leaking and that I was somehow able to remember my alternate existence. As a result, they stopped everything. I was pulled aside through security channels and was told that if I breathed a word of what I’d seen, I’d be locked up in jail and the key is thrown away.
I tried to think of other strange incidents that had occurred. I’d kept a suspicious eye and had been experiencing two separate existences. How the hell had I been at Montauk and working at BJM, apparently during the same time period? I had already arrived at the conclusion that I must have been working two jobs simultaneously because there was a period of time when I’d come home and be totally exhausted.
At this point, all of what you’ve read was one huge confusing mess in my mind. I knew that I’d been working on two separate timelines or maybe more. In fact, I’d discovered quite a bit, but it was more confused than clear. I was, however, able to make a major breakthrough in 1990. I had begun constructing a Delta T* antenna on the roof of my laboratory. One day, I was sitting on the roof and soldering all the loops together into the relay boxes (which relay the signals from the antenna downstairs to the lab).
* A Delta T antenna is an octahedral antenna structure that can shift time zones. It is designed to bend time. Delta T=Delta Time. Delta is used in science to show change and “Delta T” would refer to a change in time. More about the nature of this antenna will be covered later in the book.
Apparently, as I sat there and held the wires together to solder them, the time functions were causing my mind to shift. The more soldering I did, the more I became aware. Then, one day – bang! – the whole memory line blew open for me. All I could figure was that the Delta T antenna was storing up time flux waves as I was connecting it together. It just kept pushing my mind a little bit with regard to the time reference. The antenna was stressing time (bending it) and enough bend was created so that I was subconsciously in two-time lines. This was my memory breakthrough.
Whatever the explanation, I was very pleased to have regained so much of my memory. I also believe my theory about the Delta T antenna is correct because the more time I spent working on the antenna, the more memories came back. By early June 1990, all my key memories had come back.
In July, I was laid off. Subsequent to my firing, all of my close connections were removed as well. After having worked at BJM for the better part of two decades, I no longer had any links or friends to the company. My information sources had been effectively severed.
You now have a general idea of the circumstances whereby I regained my memory. The next part of the book will contain the history of the Montauk Project that includes a general description of the technology involved. It is based upon my own memories and the information that has been shared with me by my various colleagues involved with the Montauk Project.