The records

In 1997 while my co-author Jo and I continued to evolve the Tyranny Series, I began to consider various ideas for a series of my own I wanted to develop.  On the third day of a science fiction convention I attended, I found my attention riveted on an amusing conversation between a group of five self-proclaimed alien hunters. They were in the midst of a heated discussion about what if anything Area 51 holds, the supposed aliens at Wright-Patterson, the Dulce Papers and the granddaddy of all the alien conspiracies, Roswell, New Mexico.

I listened until someone behind me said, “They all sound a bit off-center, wouldn’t cha say?”
Right away the brogue caught my attention. I turned and stared an elderly man.  The first thing I noticed about the old gentleman was his stature. Just a bit shorter and I would have thought I was being addressed by a leprechaun. His eyes were a mischievous, luminous green, his smile merry and infectious. His full head of dark red hair made me jealous and yearn for my youth.

I shrugged. “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.”

“What are your thoughts about visitors from outer space?”

“I have a far different idea about life beyond this world.”

He winked, pointed and said, “I overheard you speakin’ ta that man earlier about human life on other worlds.”

I winced. “I thought I’d kept that quiet.”

He laughed, “Not so you’d notice, and me age hasn’t affected me hearing.”

We fell into a conversation that had me skipping the next two lectures I’d signed up for. I have to tell you, an Irish brogue has always fascinated me. Shakespeare may have written English masterfully, but it took the Irish to make it musical. After two hours listening to this man’s stories, he came around to his point.

“If you’ll be stoppin’ by the place me grandson and I are rentin’ ‘til the end of the week, I’ll be sharing with ya some records of people from outside this world. I promise you ‘tis a worthy trip for a tale worth retellin’.”

I laughed. “What’s the catch? How much will it cost me to see these records.”

The old man gave me a patient smile, no doubt developed by dealing with other belligerent skeptics such as myself. He pulled out a business card and wrote an address on the back. “"Tis the chance of a lifetime lad. I’ve approached three other authors and I’ve been laughed at in the same manner. You’ve ‘til Friday and then we’re gone.”

He rose and I watched him turn the corner and disappear.

Ax murders, con men, aliens in disguise? Something in the old man’s eyes and his story rang true. I ran to my room, emptied my wallet of everything except a few twenties and my drivers license, just in case. I grabbed my laptop, decided the elevator was too slow and raced downstairs I got directions at the front desk and was waiting when they arrived home.

A smile spread across the old gentleman’s face when he saw me. He invited me in and without any delay took me to a bedroom set up as an office. Across one wall, a bank of IBM computers squatted on metal baker’s racks. The machines whirled, lights blinked and the display screens were all busy. In the far corner sat a large, upright trunk, hinged down the center. After the grandson checked on the computers, he stepped over to the trunk and pulled the two halves apart. I stared, open-mouthed upon their treasures of old scrolls, journals and one very unusual book. (More on that in a future post.)

The scrolls and journals were old. How old will never be determined as I said, the owners will never allow tests run on them. According to these men these records have passed from father to son, mother to daughter, uncle to nephew, aunt to niece, and cousin to cousin for more than 1500 years. Each generation has added their experiences and memories to the family's collection. The records grew until the volumes and materials have become so numerous they were difficult to manage. Some so fragile they cannot be handled except with extreme care.

With the advent of computers these men began the arduous task of scanning all these records into digital files. The project took years and consumed a huge amounts of storage back then. Even with today’s hard drive standards the capacity needed is huge. Due to their fragile condition most of the original manuscripts and scrolls have been preserved and hidden away.

The earliest scrolls, such as the ones I now gazed upon, were written in an unknown language and remained a tantalizing mystery until 1996. In August of that year, the grandson discovered the key, his Rosetta stone as it were, to decipher the language. With the aid of these computers, the process of translating the scrolls was well underway. The work of converting the ancient runes and other symbols to English yielded some startling revelations. With the first few scrolls translated,  grandfather and grandson realized that the ancient manuscripts were more than just family history.

While many argue, theorize and postulate about the possibility of life beyond our planet, the presence of these journals proves, at least to us who have seen and handled the original materials or viewed the translations, there is human life on other worlds. There is no doubt some of those people long ago traveled to Earth and left behind records and more. I was asked to put the story of their lives in their universe, their accidental journey to our planet, their entire story into words.

That I have chosen to start this account with Kalen MacKenna’s story, in a place that is considered the middle was a choice left up to me. 'Dreams & Deceptions ' is by no means the beginning of the MacKenna Saga, it is to me the place where the Saga begins.