Editor’s note.
Beginning In the latter part of the 1990s, I received letters from a man calling himself “Herald H Covert.” I present them here for whatever entertainment value they may have.“None of this is true…..probably.”
Of Dark Matters.
February 2008.
“Your entire universe sits atop theirs like bits of paper in a whirlwind. You’re ants crawling on a great work of art. Monkeys contemplating the Taj Mahal. Bats singing at a Jumbo Jet. It’s so entirely out of your ken that if you knew the truth, it would drive you bugshit!”……
It was zero-dark thirty or about that. I don’t carry a watch or a cell phone so I wasn't sure.
Downtown Clearwater Florida (US.) Waiting at the bus terminal. I have a couple of interviews coming north of here and was not relishing thoughts of the tedious journey ahead.
Times have been tough! The Agency expense checks have become as rare as assignment directives. I go months between communications and even those were furtive.
I was musing about this when I saw — It.
I never found out what It’s name was or even what gender it was. For the sake of convenience I‘m referring ‘It’ as a “He.”
He was in a hoodie. Not unusual this time of year — even in Florida. But something gave him away. Strange proportions, a kind of attitude. A feeling perhaps.
He/It was not from around here.
He turned to looked at me, dark eyes, almost black. A missing nose and a slit for a mouth. His head was large and strained the fabric of the hoodie.
“Well!” He said in a high pitched rasp. “You can see me! Isn't that special. What do you plan to do about it?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s OK?”
“I know who you are” He said after a moment. “I don’t think I want to talk with — you. And you really don’t want to talk to me!”
“Yes I do!”
“No you don’t!”
He started to turn away. I had to think of something.
Yes I do! Wait! Can I get you something? I just want to talk, there’s a Starbucks around the corner. How-about?”
He stared at me for a moment. the great eyes blinked once and he mumbled “you’re buying asshole.” Then He ambled off with a strange gait across the street towards the coffee house.
Once inside he ordered two strawberry smoothies — large. I got a middle sized mocha, wondering why He didn’t cause a commotion due to his strange looks. Of course most of the clients here were glassy-eyed students at the local Science Fiction cult headquarters which was right up the street.
We took a small table near the front window where I could see groups of twenty or so students walking back and forth between the cult campus.
The following is from memory. People ask why I never take notes or use recording devices. I’ve found from experience that in my business, pens are not reliable, pencils break and recorders mysteriously run out of power.
“I do know who you are” He rasped while enthusiastically attacking the first smoothie.
“Really?” I said. “I don’t know who you think I am, but— “
“ — Relax! y’a think that you the first investigator I’ve talked to? You bozos are the least of my problems.”
“OK. Um, who isn't the least of your problems?”
“Ha! Wouldn't you like to know?” He said after a couple of slurps from the bottom of the first smoothie. “
“So” I asked after a moment “Is it true that you guys like strawberry— “
“ — Oh for!” He interrupted loudly. “I like these damn drinks — it has nothing to do with that retarded TV show!”
His voice took on a high pitched — childlike mocking tone.
“Oh — the ETs like strawberries! STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM! WHAT A REVELATION! TIME FOR A COMMERCIAL NOW GO OUT AND TAKE YOUR VIAGRA! DO IT TODAY OR YOU WILL NEVER GET ANOTHER ERECTION YOU STUPID MONKEYS!”
He was shouting. I tried to shush him before we got booted out, but he just looked at me with an amused expression. Nobody in the coffee house noticed my friend's outburst.
“They can’t hear me” He said. “you on the other hand — you look like an idiot in that fedora. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Um, OK” I said. “Ah, thanks. What can you tell me about yourself?”
“Nothing!” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because!”
“What?”
“Monkeys like you wouldn't understand!”
“Try me!” I said
He sighed, “You think you know it all! You’ve been chasing flying do-dads for how long, fifty years now? You think you know ANYTHING about that shit?
“ I know a little — “
“ — Yeah, you know little is more like it. Did you ever see that X Files episode. The one with Charles Nelson Reilly ? What the fuck was it called, “From The Bunghole of Jose Chung?”
“Um, Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” I corrected.
“Yeah- yeah! Whatever! Do you know that show was the closest you monkeys will ever come to knowing the truth about— them?”
“Them?”
“Whomever! Them — us — you! Reptile men in Washington. Computer programs of sub-transmission beyond the eighth dimension. Even the former leader of your United States of America, James Earl Carter Jr., thought he saw a UFO once. Mad Arabs. Puppy stampedes! Bare titted Raëliens. Close Encounters! The hive mind of insanity. Nightmares are the dreams of the real nightmares. Reality as a hologram. Truth is just a matter of perception. It all adds up to one — inescapable — conclusion!”
“What?”
“You need set me up again.”
He motioned to the now empty smoothie cups.
“Come on! chop-chop! You don’t have all night!” he said.
I got up and ordered two more drinks. From the counter I could see my companion looked different. More normal. Like a young, bearded man in a hoodie not like — .
“Took you long enough” He said when I returned with drinks.
“Now, I have a couple of questions.” I began.
“Yeah, fuck you and your questions!” He said.
“Are you going to tell me anything?”
“Hell no!”
“Why are you wasting my time?’
“Cuz you bought me drinks!”
“You said we can’t understand it, what “it” were you talking about?”
“Everything! Monkey see-monkey-do. See, you monkeys think you know it all! You blow yourselves into space in your tin rockets and you think — HEY LOOK! We’re the cock of the rock! HEY, I”M ON MY MOOOON! LOOK AT ME! You don’t understand how tiny you are compared with even this corner of the Cosmos. You really should be learning to live out there considering how fast you’re screwing up this place!
“You think we are screwing up the planet?”
Haha! Think? You monkeys are as clueless as you were when you smeared mud all over yourselves and fucked in the moonlight because you thought it makes your children stronger!”
“Were you around back — “
“Oh it’s a metaphor! People do it now — tonight! Here in this town too!”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me!” he said.
I noticed that he was working on the fourth large smoothie which seemed to slow him down a little.
“Uh, that was good, “ he said.
“What else can you tell me?” I asked.
“OK, you want the answer to the ultimate question which is not 42? You want to know what you monkeys are seeing when the stupid lights in the sky dance! You probably thought you saw something up in the sky other than Venus, but I assure you, it was Venus. You want to know who Bigfoot cries out for when it’s not for thee! You want to understand What came first, not Who’s on second? You want to know why Oveur was under Unger but not under Dunn?”
“More like, who are you and what are you doing here.”
It burped long and loud. “You wanna know what I’m doing here? You think I got here on a spaceship or (burp) some stupid way? You know nothing! As for who I am? You couldn't even pronounce my name.”
“Um, that’s not really helpful.”
“Well you ain’t getting much more than that!
“That’s all I get, for four overpriced smoothies?”
“What did you expect? The key to warp drive? Even if I had one you monkeys would be like cats in a jet fighter. The explosions would be pretty, but you wouldn't accomplish much more.
“Well, you gotta admit — that’s pretty thin.” I said.
OK- fine, I’ll tell-yah. The unvarnished truth! The actual facts of what, I’m doing here — I’m escaping! See those losers — just came in the door?”
He was referring to three uniformed Sea Org members of the Scientology cult. One had a clipboard. They were looking at each of the patrons in the coffee shop carefully. I saw one of the cultists get the bathroom key and systematically look inside the men’s room and the ladies.
“There’re looking for one of their lost sheep.” he whispered. “It’s called a blow-drill! Haha! Blow-job drill!
“One of their members escaped?”
“Yeah, you could say that!”
My companion pulled the hoodie over his face and turned away from the trio of the Sea Org people.
“They can’t see you can they?” I asked.
“Shhhh! Not so loud dumb-ass!” He hissed.
I waited for them to leave.
“So, they were looking for you?” I asked.
“Probably, I’ve been their guest for a while. Sometimes they can see me and people like me. Something to do with all that niacin they do. It’s — it breaks down my cover!”
“They kept you prisoner?”
“Well! It wo’rent like that the whole time! Most of it was kind’a nice. They were way more polite than your military!”
“Why did they keep you as, um a guest? And how long have you been here!”
“A long time! They built this place for — well for things you don’t want to know about. Why do you think they have sub-basements under that monstrosity down the street.”
“You mean the Super Power Building?”
“You mean the Super Power Building?” It said in It’s mocking tone. Right, I can see you don’t know much about Florida — arcane — archa — (hic) texture! — “
“BASEMENTS STUPID!” he shouted.
“What?”
“Basements! They don’t do basements in Florida. The water table is about two inches below the surface. Do you know how many pumps they got in that place? And backup generators just to keep the water out! And grounding cables too. All the cult buildings have massive grounding cables.”
“What do they have in the — “
“ — How in the fuck should I know! I lived down there, but they didn’t let me roam around. It’s something pretty valuable though. The cult guru — L Ron Hubbard. You met him once — “
“How did you know— “
“ — Never mind that. I told you! We know about you!”
He dropped into a passable imitation of Agent Smith from The Matrix. “We’ve been — watching you — for some time — Mr. Covert.”
“Anyway,” He continued. They have vaults under that thing. With heavy doors. Some of them have your little radiation pictures on them.
“are you saying they have a nuclear reactor under — “
“I’m not saying anything! I didn't see one. I doubt it’s a reactor though.
“Can’t you tell me anything else? I said.
“Yeah, but you won’t like it”
“I already don’t like it.” I said “Most of the time you people are at least civil. You strike me more like a truck driver or a longshoreman.”
This got a snort. “What makes you think I’m not?” he said “Why do you monkeys believe that just being able to move from place to place imbibes one with special ideals or wisdom? Look at Pizarro!”
“Who?”
Francisco Pizarro González — human being! Five hundred years ago he conquered the The Four Region Empire with a few sick, smelly, cursing out of work soldiers. The Inca thought those Spanish thugs were special because they know how to smelt iron and had horses! Hah! Pizarro’s technology was barely above the Inca’s. Behind in many ways. He and others like him destroyed the Western Hemisphere just by coughing on it!
“So, what you are saying is. You’re are a soldier?”
“NO! It’s another metaphor. In other words, since you seem too simple to understand. Why do you think we are so different from you monkeys?”
“Are you?”
“Yes —and NO! I really can’t tell you! I can say we don’t have bases at Dulles or the Denver Airport. We don’t eat human flesh or drink your blood. We are not fucking you or breeding you. The very thought makes me feel sick! You monkeys have very strange imaginations.
“What are you doing here on our world then?”
“Here on our world! You should listen to yourself! It’s MY world too, ass! I’m here ain’t I? You think you own the place? Well you don’t! I don’t! I’m just here doing a job and trying to enjoy myself from time to time. Same as anyone!”
“So, what’s your job here?”
“You wouldn't understand it, even if I could tell you which I can’t! How would a bushman understand a grocery checkout person? Even the idea of money would take forever to get across.
“Why can’t you explain it to me?”
“Because!” he said. “Shit would go down. Do you think getting coughed on and dying from the flu is the worst thing? You monkeys have souls — at least kind’a. There’s stuff out there that wants me to leave you alone. That’s about all I can say.”
“This is useless” I found myself saying. I felt compelled to get away from this “person.” My bus was leaving soon. I started getting up when this strange — man or whatever it was grabbed my arm with a cold insect-like hand. A grip that was so powerful I couldn't move.
His face moved close to mine, a nightmare of black eyes. Dark like a bottomless pool. It’s face only inches from mine, a faint scent of strawberry emanating from a lip-less mouth.
“Not so fast “He said “you wanted to know the truth? Didn’t you?
The slur was gone. The words came out with deadly precision.
“You think you rule this little rock? You don’t! You monkeys are weak — inheritors of something. Something much larger. Much grander. Much older! But you can’t see it, can’t hear it and certainly can’t smell it. Did you know that you can’t even see most of the electromagnetic spectrum?
I nodded. It was all I could do. I felt I was floating in a warm pool. The words held me stronger than his vice-like grip.
“The electromagnetic spectrum. he said. It’s just ONE of many spectra. There’s others you can’t see outside the slice of that you can see. You monkeys are blind and deaf and dumb, but you don’t know it. Even I can’t see as much as — they can.
“They?” I managed to croak.
“They!” he said and a droplet of strawberry scented spittle fell onto the lapels of my coat.
“Your science almost found them, but it doesn't know what it’s looking at yet. Entire worlds, entire cosmos, entire EMPIRES are hidden from you. Why do you think matter doesn’t just fly apart?”
“Uh.” I said.
“Because! He said. Your entire universe sits atop theirs like bits of paper in a whirlwind. You’re ants crawling on a great work of art. Monkeys contemplating the Taj Mahal. Bats singing at a Jumbo Jet. It’s so entirely out of your ken that if you knew the truth, it would drive you bugshit!”
“Your science can almost see it though.” He continued “Even watching leaves spinning in the wind a monkey can see the vortex. Your astronomers call it “Dark_Matter.” Dark — hah! It’s far from dark and it’s all around us.
“And They are all around you too!” He rasped.
“They?” I managed to croak again. It was as much as I could say.
“They! Did you know — those cultists ? Sometimes they can see it. Why do you think they built their headquarters in this lousy town? This is a headquarters all right. But not like those schmucks think!”
“It’s a headquarters?” I asked “ What kind of — “
“You really want the truth monkey-boy?”
“Yes!”
His hand clapped onto my forehead. there was something silver and cold in his grasp. I felt a shock. Like an electric shock. A huge bell rang in my mind.
“Take a look” he rasped.
And suddenly, I could see —
It was a world, but not like one I’ve ever imagined. The walls of the coffee shop were transparent, like foam. A faint mist. Starbuck’s was gone and in place was something just — wrong.
People were ghosts. Ghosts with transparent skin. Bones like glass with bags inside, hearts pumping. Lungs expanding and shrinking. Intestines and nerve endings. A brain was a dark blob with tiny sparks of light running back and forth. They were tendrils of nerves like strange tentacled creatures.
I looked up into a dark sky. But bright at the same time in a way I cannot describe. It would be like trying to describe colors to a blind man.
I became aware of others. Things that moved through walls as if the brick and concrete were fog. They were more solid than the people. Monsters. The stuff of nightmares. They had eyes, several sets of them. Hundred of limbs — tentacles. Jaws full of crystalline teeth.
Beyond were other things. Vehicles? Larger shapes that moved so fast I could barely see them. The street was a dark river in which long snake-like creatures swam. Larger figures still, brooded in the distance. Huge — indescribable.
The shapes of madness.
I could perceive a city, mounds and shards of alien towers streaming up to the heavens. Beads of light and darkness moved among them.
The sounds were like the shrieking din of a abattoir. Screaming. Screaming!
I felt my pulse quicken. My heart stuttered and writhed in my chest. I could SEE my heart like an animal in a trap. I felt a fear that was palatable. I could see my fear too. It was streaming from my mind like a spiraling ruby mist.
Something saw my fear. A terrible visage, black with streaks of red. It sniffed, using tentacles each with a small round hole. Eyes turned and looked right at me. It’s mouth opened, tentacles around it’s face writhed. It SAW me! It smelled my ruby-red fear and began moving closer.
Hands misshapen and huge moved toward my face, then passed through with a “pop” and into my skull. I remember screaming at the feel of those long dark fingers, thin claws touching, tearing.
Gouging my soul.
When I came to, I was lying on a dirty seat. There was a vibration and a stench of diesel fumes. A rough bumping.
I was on a Greyhound bus, well out of town now and headed north on Interstate 75. In the “real world” apparently.
“You’re awake! Boy were you out of it!” said a voice.“
I looked at the adjoining row. A young man in a hoodie was sitting there, playing a game on a little handheld thing.
“How long?” I managed to say.
“Couple of hours.” said the man. Yer buddy paid me, enough for this whole trip to get you on board. “
“My buddy? Who? What did he look like?” I asked.
“I dunno, kind of a strange fellow,” said the man.
“Strange?”
“Yeah, funny looking! Kind of thin. He seemed out of it too. Like he was drunk .”
“You know the weird thing ,” the man said.” After I took hold of you he was gone. Poof! Vanished. There was a flash and I saw something, like a helicopter going straight up. But no sound. Do you suppose it was — “
“ — probably not” I said. “Thanks for the help anyway.”
“Don’t mention it” said the young man and went back to his game.
“I sat, listening to the whine of the bus engine for a while. We were passing fog banks, which made the dark land surreal and dreamlike. I remembered the affair with striking clarity. The hellish version of Cleawater was more real than the city itself. Especially the wrath-like fingers plunging into my body.
But at that moment, I remembered something else. I remembered my fear melting away. I saw what THEY saw. The city took on a different cast. The shape was the same, but my perception changed.
It was a city of light. reaching into the heavens and beyond. A voice immense and booming told me this was city of builders, artists, dreamers and poets. They'd banished fear eons ago. Managed it and so, ranged across their cosmos. Creating wealth and beauty In far places.
Places where shadows never fall.
Dark Matter wasn't dark. Not even a little bit.
If I looked hard out the bus window, I could almost see them, outlined in the streamers of fog. Shapes. The stuff of nightmares — or dreams.
I shuttered. This was nuts! An illusion. Perhaps my companion was just a fellow in a hoodie. I got drunk. Maybe I got rolled. I checked my wallet — it was still there. My hat was stowed in the overhead rack and my coat too.
There was something on the coat.
A stain on the lapels.
A stain with the faint scent of — strawberries.
— H. Covert.
A word on Herald Covert.
I started getting The Herald Covert letters several years ago. They were sent via a number of anonymous re-mailers and never the same one twice. I’ve replied to a couple and gotten responses, but always using a new mail system.
According to his story; Herald is associated with a shadowy organisation — private or governmental I have no idea. This “agency” (according to Herald) sends him to various parts of the world to discover the truth about physical and social “anomalies.” Criptozoology, paranormal phenomena, UFOs and sinister oozings for all I know. Most of his material is of questionable value and sounds like fiction to me.
He claims it’s not.
— more to follow.
G Allen is a technical geek who does various IT related things and writes on the side. If you liked this story, please mash the “like” button. Or leave a comment.
Or better yet do both!
