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all those lives。〃
〃It's not your fault。 Some things are just meant to be。 You can't change the future 。。。 even when you know what is going to happen。〃
I heard the sound of a woman weeping in the background。
〃A woman just came in。 Her husband is missing；〃 Mary whispered。
After we hung up I sat for a long time by my big glass windows； looking out over the lights of Manhattan Island。 For one long year my life had been intertwined with the lives of the people of Point Pleasant。 I had been led into relationships and events that seemed to follow a structured pattern beyond my control。 Even beyond my understanding。 I had stood on those distant hills and watched those wretched bouncing lights mock me。 In the months ahead there would be many changes in the lives of those who had been touched by the Garuda。 Roger and Linda Scar…berry would divorce； as would Woodrow Derenberger who； in what has bee a。 tradition among contactees； would remarry 。。。 this time to a beautiful young woman who was also a contactee。 They would slip away to obscurity in another state。 Others would eventually suffer nervous breakdowns and undergo long periods of hospitalization。 A few would even mit suicide。
Death would claim too many of the participants in the dramas of 1967。 Mrs。 Mary Hyre passed away in 1970。 Ivan T。 Sanderson left us in 1973。 Dr。 Edward U。 Condon； Fred Freed； and many others would be gone long before the tenth anniversary of the appearance of the winged thing in front of the old power plant。 Some of the people who viewed the tall； hairy red…eyed monsters died within six months。 Even Mr。 Apol staged an odd departure； acting out a charade with the Men in Black that left him broken in spirit。 He wasted away like a human suffering from a stroke until there was nothing left but his Cheshire smile。
Out there in the night those puzzling spheres of light still ply their ancient routes in the Mississippi and Ohio valleys。 A new generation of young people stand on the hilltops； expectantly scanning the skies。 Their elders； jaded by nearly thirty years of signs and wonders； no longer scoff。 Believers in extraterrestrial visitants and saviors from outer space are now weled on the most respectable television shows to broadcast their propaganda for that imaginary world with its superior technology and its marvelously stupid representatives who adopt the names of ancient gods and moan they are prisoners of time。
People ask me still if I know what the future holds。 But； just as I used Socratic irony in my investigations； I can only admit like Socrates that the more I learn the less I know。 My glimpses of the future were all secondhand and were frequently garbled by accident or design。
All of the generations before ours were infested with false prophets； workers of wonders； and signs in the sky。 In a sense； each generation is truly the Last Generation from their microscopic viewpoint。 But our modern electronic munications and sophisticated press agentry have given present…day prophets tools the ancients lacked。 Ideas； no matter how bizarre or fallacious； can span the world in a flash。 And there are always people ready to rally to any banner； no matter how absurd。 In recent years we have seen a worldwide revival of interest in psychic phenomena and the supernatural。 Stern no…nonsense scientists now drag their beards to Loch Ness to search for the …monster； while others b the woods of the Northwest seeking the Sasquatch； and still others soberly discuss robots from outer space with Mississippi fishermen。 But gradually all these men are being drawn closer and closer to ontology； to an examination of the question that lies beyond the simplistic； 〃Can these things be？〃 The real question is； 〃Why are there these things？〃
Like Mr。 Apol and his merry crew of mischief…makers； we do not know who we are or what we are doing here。 But we are slowly learning。 Once we begin looking beyond the mere manifestations we will finally glimpse the real truth。 Belief has always been the enemy of truth； yet； ironically； if our minds are supple enough； belief can sometimes open the door。
After spending a lifetime in Egyptian tombs； among the crumbling temples of India and the lamaseries of the Himalayas； endless nights in cemeteries； gravel pits； and hilltops everywhere； I have seen much and my childish sense of wonder remains unshaken。 But Charles Fort's question always haunts me： 〃If there is a universal mind； must it be sane？〃
Fortean Organizations （Removed）
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