按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
partment isn't usable。 Parts of it are overexposed and sections of the sound track are filled with static。〃
The same reporter； incidentally； had visited Derenberger in West Virginia and was present when Woody announced； 〃Cold is over the house right now。〃 They went outside； and； sure enough； a large luminous blob was soaring casually overhead。
Strange things happened to the written word； too。 I was at Ivan's farm one afternoon when a New York editor called and demanded to know what had bee of a UFO story Ivan had promised him。
〃I sent it to you a week ago；〃 Ivan protested。
When we went into town to pick up the mail there was a large manila envelope with a； Florida postmark。 Ivan opened it and threw the contents down in disgust。 It was the UFO story which he had mailed to New York the week before！ Somehow it had gone to Florida instead and someone had remailed it back to him。
My own problems were equally bizarre。 The editor of a short…lived occult magazine asked me to contribute an article； 〃anything 。。。 it can just be something from your trunk。〃 I dug out a short； unpublished piece from my files and mailed it to him。 There was a deafening silence。 A couple of weeks later I met him for lunch and he pulled out a sheaf of papers。
〃I'm afraid we really can't use this； John；〃 he said。 He handed me a dog…eared manuscript； single…spaced in elite type。 I have always used pica type and automatically double…space my manuscripts。 My name and address were at the top of this masterpiece and it had arrived at his office in one of my envelopes。 As I read it I could see that it was a real piece of garbage。 To this day I don't know what happened to my manuscript； or how the trashy substitute was switched with it。
When I returned to New York in December I found that my entire stable of contactees was mourning my passing。 Apol； Lia； Cloe； and their band of poseurs had convinced them all that I had e to an untimely end in a mine cave…in。 This marked the beginning of a new phase。 It was no more Mr。 Nice Guy。 The entities spread vicious rumors； turned against the contactees； and terrified them。 Jane woke up one night to find all the gas jets on her kitchen stove were turned on and the house was filling with fumes。 The same thing happened to Shirley； and on the same night。 Fred Miller； an elderly Long Island fanner who entertained men in shiny spacesuits in his kitchen； suffered a rash of mysterious fires。
Even the old devil and Daniel Webster theme was dusted off。 Harassed contactees were ordered to sign an impressive…looking piece of parchment； allegedly a contract for their beleaguered souls。 I was caught up in the game； playing old Daniel's role； arguing with demons to save the contactees。 They let me win； of course； having proved their point。 Good and evil were synonymous in their phantasmagorical world。
When Linda Scarberry gave birth to a baby girl that month she decided to name her Daniella Lia。 No one other than a couple of contactees knew of the Indian…like entity named Lia。 Linda had just picked the name from left field because she liked it。 Later Dan Drasin told me his mother's name was Lia 。。。 a fact I had not known。 Neither had Linda。
Synchronocity all over the place！
On my way to see an editor of True magazine one afternoon； the elevator in the Fawcett building stopped inexplicably between floors and the lights went out for several seconds。 That night a contactee called to tell me she had met Mr。 Apol and he was chuckling over how I had been 〃stuck in an elevator。〃
The big 〃EM effect〃 slated for December 15 was now more clearly defined。 The space people were timing it so it would coincide with the annual Christmas tree ceremony on the White House lawn； I was told At the very moment when President Lyndon Johnson threw the switch to light up the tree； the power all over the country would fail。 Knowing the entities' perverse sense of humor； and impressed by the accuracy of many of their previous predictions； I bought this lock； stock； and barrel。
My biggest concern； however； was my telephone。 My bills were now astronomical。 I was constantly being cut off in the middle of conversations； or foreign sounds were injected into my line。 Somebody would strum a one…stringed guitar or blow a shrill whistle while I was talking。 Like Ivan； I often heard the distinct sound of an extension being picked up or put down Electronic beeps； eerie music； hollow metallic voices； all became mon on the blasted instrument。 My gentle protests to the telephone pany turned into howls of rage。 I demanded the privilege to personally examine my telephone line from one end to the other。 And the telephone pany granted permission。
On December 13 I visited the main office of my telephone exchange a few blocks from my apartment building。 A technician and a young 〃Special Agent〃 met me at the door and escorted me through the entire building。 The security measures were impressive。 Every floor consisted of a series of locked rooms。 My escorts were constantly fiddling with keys。
My line passed through the walls of my apartment building to the telephone room in the basement。 The lines were built into the walls when the building was constructed so there was no way they could be tapped in the house itself。 The basement room was always locked。 There my line was hooked to a line which traveled in a tube under the city streets to the exchange building。 Here again； a tap was impossible。 If any tap existed； it had to be in the basement telephone room or in the exchange building。
Inside the exchange； the tube came out in a locked room and my line was separated from the others and soldered to a set of terminals which were connected to wires leading to the dialing mechanism。 I had studied books on the telephone system and I knew exactly how all this machinery worked。 The only thing that impressed me was the age of all the equipment。 Most of it had been built and installed in the 1920s。 It would be a pliment to call it junk。 It was all antique。 Some rooms contained apparatus so old it looked like young Tom Edison's laboratory。 There were coils； meters； switches； and rheostats that were outdated when Marconi was sending his first signals across the Atlantic。
However； all this rickety debris appeared to be in good working condition。
In another locked room a group of people were working with a device called a 〃pen register。〃 This was a gadget that could be patched into any telephone line to record every number dialed on that phone。 A moving pen wrote the number on a strip of paper。 Thus the telephone pany could obtain a record of every local call made on a given phone （long…distance calls are automatically recorded on another； more elaborate device）。
If anyone was tapping my phone； they had to do it from the two terminals at the tube outlet。 Or a connection had to be made at that point and the wires strung to another room。 The locked doors and tight security meant that only authorized snoops could connect such a tap。 And； as I learned later； the New York Telephone pany was very uncooperati