Quest: My Half-Sister's Son

Paul Prochnow's "Quest: My Half-Sister's Son" is a strange tale of alien abduction, experimentation, and odd family ties. Tread lightly through this Demensions tale. It's a head-twister!

     I got the DNA report back from the lab, she is my sister. It wasn't easy, but when she had the physical, a couple of Uncle Ben Franklins bought undying loyalty from the underpaid technician I met at the Lions. She handed the vial over at Hardee's and I mailed it to my lab contact in Scotland who I trust. I got the report on the encrypted line, studied his analysis, and saw the thin banding only their analysis could detect straight across the genome. Edinburgh was tight on doing this test, but uncle Ben and the ties my grandfather laid decades ago helped.
     Frank, my dad's old plant buddy, had indeed defragmented my reality with the story of the boys going to Paul and George's after they called in sick some days. The guys used to call it "going to Chouhaug's," my sister's mother's - shall we say "massage parlor" - upstairs from Paul and George's on Water Street north of Pleasant, a hop, skip, and a jump from the plant.
     Chouhaug was an eastern Baltic name, pronounced "Koo-Hawk." Her mother was renown with the boys for her understanding of the male reflex, and the knowledge was passed on to my half sister. Mrs. Chouhaug played WWII melancholy "missing you" melodies for the men, that seemed to put them at ease, in an amorous mood as most of them were veterans who got in the plant once the war ended. My sister, Honey, started in the sex worker trade quite naturally and learned all that her mother knew and more, and was an extremely pretty and bright girl. Her mother couldn't keep her at a sitter all the time and the customers learned to like her around at a very young age, as Honey thought the goings on were quite normal although her mother told her to never talk about "home" at school. Mrs. Chouhaug dressed her provocatively and she was more than attractive and the boys liked her around as she sang along with the pop tunes on the record player and made alluring and breathless comments as the activities took place.
      Frank felt he just had to unload about who Honey's father was. Frank swore that Mrs. Chouhaug was hung up on my dad for some unknown reason and had straight unprotected sex with him for many years. It was odd as I thought back to my University days, and how I admired Honey from afar as she grew into quite a stellar personality on campus while I attended off and on, supporting myself as well as I could in construction and accounting, and other employment. She was a veritable queen on the campus and started running with a highly talented group that organized campus entertainment activities and flirted with the underground SDS fronts and so forth in the war years. In those days I never understood why she was so popular, but now that Frank had unburdened himself to me about Honey things began to make themselves clear. When Honey showed on the campus it was almost as if she was a sort of an underground entertainment figure. She was very active in poetry readings and sported about a great number of different males on campus. She never quit talking it seemed as I would pass her going to classes, she was extremely busy. Honey pretty much affected the "Tommy" rock opera acid queen persona that was popular at the time, in decades past she well could have passed for the Sharon Falconer character in "Elmer Gantry." Now that Frank told me her background, I understood the visceral reaction I had to her - it was natural kinship. When I saw Honey's face it was as if I was looking at my self in female form, and indeed now I know she was a natural half sister to me.
     I guess Honey's early upbringing, living above Paul and George's bar, and her mother's employment helped her a great deal in the morally loosened climate of the sixties and seventies University campus, where she absolutely thrived. Her group worked itself into Easter Mysticism, Sci-Fi, and every single psychedelic movement of the times. I imagine that her sexual prowess and openness more than helped ingratiate her self in the back stage machinations of the University entertainment machine, which brought loads of semi-stellar personalities in to "read" from novels and poetry chapbooks, as well as grass root blues and folk music presentations. All she wrote was highly lauded in the province she dominated, but exuded a childlike simplicity, joy, and undying wonder of sex, the motivating force in her philosophy, the core of her mentality. When she gave a reading she relied on her voice, looks, and personality to carry the banal material so her hopefully stellar new creations bordered on humor unintentionally.
     In only a few years the voice grew croaky, actually elderly, decades before it should. Her best long poem was "Handmaiden to Amun." Although she became a creative writing teaching assistant her, STD problem surfaced in her thirties and she emotionally tried but could not keep up with the ever-changing currents of intellectual concepts. Honey was truly loved in the literary circle and well tutored by her husband who liked pulp fiction and tabloid news the most. Due to her commercially carnal upbringing Honey brought a strange mix of emotions to the students and professional writers she encountered. The extraordinary sexuality exuded from her presence, and she often used that form of favoritism to promote her work that was polished and correct in form yet sophomorically flawed from it's conception.
     It was inevitable that she hook up with a University male and start her nesting process. Although brought up in the sex trade, she never tired of men. She loved men, and since she had no two parent upbringing, the picket fence life was an image that glowed for her as a heavenly vista. She settled herself down after the war movement, quit producing the psychedelic glitz stuff, and became a normal mother, as far as I know. As far as I know, since I did not take to the "quisling queer bait" attitude that most of the University people fronted to the common students such as myself. I found the social atmosphere very distasteful and smarmy and superficially gallant, so much so that it took on a dull sort of sameness that did not appeal to my intellect at all. I went off on a non-University mainstream sort of life style. I sold insurance, worked retail management, and eventually was so bored with the old homestead I joined the Navy. Honey's image was a strange one in my mind though. I saw her do a poetry reading and she seemed goofed on dumb dust or weed, and the literature was terrible, I felt embarrassed for her. Some how that stuck in my mind, but on the other hand I imagined with her connections she probably got into Disney writing children's cartoons, probably with a white-washed Eastern religion over tone, or is that under tone?
     I stayed in the Philippines with my first wife after the service. The eastern ladies treated us as if we were gods. I took my savings and started an agricultural endeavor with my wife, and we made a fortune. Strange as this sounds I found Christ in the Philippines. It was not a strict hell and damnation preaching that won my soul, it was the nino simplicity of the local nino religion that converted me as religions from the States never sent the least quiver of salvation through my soul. My wife and I made a fortune in bok choy plantings, she was the world's greatest manager. But as those things go, she found the taste of capitalism overwhelming and bought me out. I never felt bad about that, and look back with a sense of accomplishment in having saved so many souls over there as we ran the Christian-oriented agricultural business. Who knows how many children I have there, the women looked at procreation in a different manner, my first wife however, was left barren. She adopted all the workers and friends alike at the plantation, and we parted happily.
     Out in the country outside Manila I had a strange visitation that brought about the split, I dread speaking about. I was about to skip this. My father had passed away, and one night I suffered a classic alien abduction personally. The aliens actually communicated with me and gave me a message they considered of great importance. That was this, my father was an alien hybrid that went back many generations. They also informed me, that although my father had lowly duty in WWII that he was given a short term duty assignment on the Manhattan Project, that the military in some way had found through remote viewing exercise he was a hybrid. I left the break up with my first wife thinking it was her decision, as the aliens told me I should return to my homeland, as my influence made a sort of difference to them that was left unclear to me.
     I broke clean from the oriental operation, as I said, and had a fake record created so that I could resume a pedestrian identity in my home town. I noticed that the art scene had changed radically, and flirted with the idea of getting a masters, but found the academic population in general looked overwhelmed with cocaine and sex addictions of various types. One day I saw the ruins Honey had made of herself, she must have blacked out in her car and rear ended the vehicle in front of her on Silver Spring Drive by Estabrook Park. She was incoherent, stoned on god-knows-what, or sick, as her physical glow had departed. She looked desiccated and haggard. Her lifestyle and addictions must have lead her to AIDS. I gasped at first, overwhelmed at the sight and felt a pang of emotion I can hardly describe, but it passed and in a way to hide my identity said in a calm voice, "Dumb box," as I rode by on my new KLX650.
     I kept an eye on her from a distance, and for a time Honey seemed to recover from her affliction and plump up somewhat from the time I saw her. I was relieved and took an assignment in my field elsewhere. Then I ran into Frank those many years later. He had more information on Honey Chouhaug that I should tell now, from when he related her true identity to me, now that things have occurred as they have. I knew it would be a shock to my half-sister, but I found Honey's email, and wrote her a narrative similar to the one you see here. I felt compelled to let her know who her father was before she died. You see, Frank had told me she was nearing the end and told me she had broken with her husband who had taken the three children, and left her in a same sex relationship with another afflicted individual. The next day I nearly passed out as I read her obituary. Honey Chouhaug died suddenly of heart failure, age 51. The obit relayed her great literary success and community accomplishments, and I sat in a stupor knowing my news had killed her.
     Upon hearing of her death I ran to my computer and hacked into the family data base and email; I wanted to create pleasant situations for the family. The medical reports were shocking. Apparently they had three children and her longtime sweetheart husband who she married sired the first offspring, who was well on her way to continuing her mother's literary dynasty. Her husband was not quite so lucky. Apparently the intercourse need to produce the first child caused him to develop a rare penile cancer. I knew in an instant it was due to her hybrid genetics, as the purely human tissue often reacted in a manner such as this with hybrid alien closeness. It was similar to an allergy, that the aliens long ago genetically created to curb their population on their base planet. Luckily I had not caused the problem in my pursuits to any females, it was a hybrid female secretion.
     Since the couple was devoted and had long-term family plans Honey was artificially inseminated to bear the subsequent offspring. Being academics, they selected for the highest possible intellect in the donor. They chose a MENSA male for the first who was merely tested for intellectual achievement through SAP and ACT scoring, the second was an aging professor of great renown. Knowing I had donated sperm in my youth I hacked into the Fertility Clinics records. I almost fell from my chair when I saw who the donor was. The news was too much following Honey's death as this news did. By pure happenstance I was the father of her second child!
     After the shock subsided I wondered of the result in such a close breeding to alien stock, I was sure that he would not reach my stature and wondered about such things as closed up nasal cavities as mine were small enough as a quarter breed. As I speed-read their emails, with the aid of my artificial intelligence program pulling up my son's messages, I found that Del was in prep school and selected for a special UN field trip to Nepal. I did not know the goal of his group, but assumed it was strictly educational, either sociological/cultural or archaeological, as Del excelled in each. The UN site had a secure firewall, but his whereabouts was in my situation common knowledge. I was little surprised of Del's intellectual achievements, and hoped he had the physical abilities to undergo the ordeal.

     Del wandered about uneasily on the pass between Tibet and Nepal pondering the study he and the UN group were doing on the low level transmissions from HARP and ELF. The group detected the signals at a much higher rate than earlier mathematical studies had indicated. The signal was as high up here in the orient as where the systems were used for tactical data gathering, information transmission blockage, and neurological warfare on armed land forces.
     As though he had stepped into another frame of reference, instantaneously a metallic object the size of a football field filled his eyes, and a micro second after the appearance he heard instructions in his mind, and in another instant was looking at the pass in the moonlight. Now Del knew why he was excelling in academics and a flop at high level athletics and needed a size eight hat and had such great neck problems and weak shoulders and seemed to intuitively guess each turn in the HARP and ELF study. If the military electronics were being used to promote and then quell terrorism around the world this test on the top of the world with the massive mountains proved it, to Del at least.
     From his extensive reading in world religion, the recurring predominate theme of spirits in the earth and sky made sense in considering extra-human control. Now that the military had electronic capabilities that rivaled the alien's, what would the global tribal groups do with the capabilities?

     I had a vivid dream and Del's visitation became apparent to me, knowing of the wide-spread communication net, as all hybrids had the sensitivity. I needed to move fast, as a quarter-breed has a nasty way of using his human intellect to escape discovery while using his primal mind to motivate himself. I was on a plane to the orient that same night under an assumed name after an encrypted call to an associate who get me transportation to the pass.
     My studies were being confirmed, my forebears had used the military to install a system to make the human race more manageable by astrally projected cyber controlled hieroglyphic type electronic imaging. It was called A.P.C.H.E.I. and combined the capabilities of HARP and ELF to transmit messages to the neuron's frequency in the human receivers, without the human knowing he is a subject. I hopped a jeepney my associate had arranged at the airport and within little more than twelve hours was going up the pass on an ancient Hodaka the natives really revered through the years and fitted with a four gallon gas tank that would get me to Del's camp.
     It was later the next day I first laid my eyes on Del from about a hundred yards away. He erected his head either from hearing the Hodaka puttering up or my presence, I'll never know. I pulled up and heard a voice in my head ask, Father? I thought: Yes, my son, we rule it from here. As our eyes met, we needed no further verbalizations.
     As far as the UN and the party knew there were no Chinese patrols up on this pass. The road I'd traversed was set up in the ancient days to bring down a special statuary stone used in traditional oriental work, which was extremely heavy in iron content and had a surface that took to fine polishing. If one went down the slopes there would be many blocks to be found as one mule could carry a cubic foot of the dark green blue stone if it did not drop from exhaustion as many had.
     Dell's UN party was all cleared on an anthropological art pass from the governments involved. As there was no population about, Del was already at work with the electronic gear that he set up a distance from the base. They had four quads, one empty to bring back a block of stone. The rest were packing a generator and enough fuel to electrify the gear and the tents and food for the operation.
     After our meeting, Del motioned up to his remote tent to let me see the operation. His large close set eyes seemed to work up and down his long thin nose, his ears were even larger than my own, as he stared into my eyes I could feel our rather high and broad foreheads exchange a sort of intelligence. His close set blue eyes were hypnotic as they worked in an up and down manner rather rapidly in the gloss of his cold-colored red nose. We talked very little as Del was busy writing computer software that would hack into and shadow the HARP and ELF transmissions. Del was key in developing the 256 bit shadow encryption chip that was undetectable to the older technology used by the military. Dell's signal traveled in space at a stream on a higher frequency, so he was transceiving at supposedly fourth intervals to the military signals.
     Del made it more than clear to me that his party was not aware of his work as they studied the military transmissions under the anthropological guise. He was running his own double blind operation. We heard some voices from the base and hurried down. A group of soldiers had arrived and were talking to the rest of the group. They were dressed in a black and white cammy that worked well up in these mountains; it was if they were wearing rocks. The group had light arms and had been coming down the pass to look for rebels up at the old stone quarry. The lead man who looked like the rest of the patrol examined the papers, the lab gear including laptops, and a small dish we told them was for rescue and the block of statuary stone that had a chemist's casserole and pipette bottles sitting on it.
     "Your documents look in order," the lead man said, handing back to our crewmember. He spoke in a dialect I did not really know. "I need to know of anyone, anyone, who goes this way. You help me and you can work as long as you want," the patrol leader said in a jovial smiling manner as he rapidly bowed and stepped back to make gesture that the patrol would be on it's way. I stepped up to the man, smiled, and patted his back and stealthily poked a half pin sized bug to the rear hem of his jacket, we would know if we were being watched.
     Del and I stayed at the base camp and gathered around the block of stone talking of it's consistency with the old master carving data we had up on the laptop as the patrol all looked about for any details they could get and then slowly started to descend the pass. As soon as they were out of sight Del and I went to his remote tent to see the latest transmissions.
     We learned upon our return there was a higher degree of readiness in both the missile operations and garrisoned troops, clicking on to our surveillance we found no reports so the condition was strictly informational. Del had to work all night long on writing the new software for his shadow operation. Since I was still a quarter breed I could tune in my mind to what he was doing, where others could not. Del was only a few lines away from gaining complete control of half the world's population. There had always been a new world order tone set down in the UN concept and now Del's mind control system was nearly in order.
     One might be tempted to call APCHEI a sort of a spiritual second coming in the way it would influence the mind's of the masses. The UN was right in believing in Del's capabilities to affect such a program. He had broken the concept down to the secret security committee, and they gave him the go-ahead. Del's concept was simple: By influencing the neural centers of the human race he could nullify the warlike tendencies in any groups religious beliefs, and by doing so quell the natural individual human warlike responses. This was to work on the lower echelon of the militaries making them less usable as soldiers. I slept that night and dreamed of seeing the results once Del finished and implemented his program.
     I was startled awake for an instant - not sure if it was a vivid dream - seeing a large silent aircraft above the pass.
     As the Chinese bristled at Taiwan, Del and I worked hard to combat real military action. We knew short range missiles had been moved to the Chinese coast. We made sure that nothing more than rhetoric was exchanged as we took remote control of the Chinese weapons. Del tried his mind control system and we were later told there was a limited effect. Del needed to fine tune to the current military mindset China was indoctrinating the troops with, but his system should do well next time. As a burgeoning industrial country with limited tech ability, Taiwan was without a doubt a smokescreen, a pawn, with Japan being the real target. China could not hope to compete in the high tech arena, so a move at this time to corner the industrial market was an empty goal.
     We packed up the gear and head back down. There was no way the Chinese military would allow us to operate from the pass beyond the sanctions we had from the UN. I fired up the Hodaka and met the patrol we earlier encountered and told them we were done with or studies. A day later the pack animal caravan met them, too, carrying a couple of small slabs of stone and the scientific gear. Del and I came to a tactical agreement that we meet for the next saber rattling scenario wherever it might be. We already bought interest in a satellite firm and Del's latest gear and software would be in orbit soon. Del needed it hardwired into the satellite as we feared uploads would be intercepted. Del and I had lived our lives apart, and we had a nice visit up on the pass and found ourselves in total agreement. In a roundabout way I had taught him well.

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