Secrets of Area 51 (Part 2)
Area 51, Arizona
"Well, I suppose this will do? Why do you insist on going straight to the battlefield as line infantry when it’s so dangerous..."
"President Franklin Roosevelt. You haven’t forgotten what my ancestors promised the Founding Fathers, have you? Even if I can’t directly exercise executive, legislative, or judicial power as I did back then, I still have the authority to speak indirectly on the nation’s ideology and direction. You commoners know perfectly well that you’re not flawless either. The Declaration of Independence itself should have made abundantly clear how dangerous populism can be, alongside the theory of the educated aristocracy."
"Yes, yes, I know. Weren’t these secret bases built for independent experiments in the first place?"
"Exactly. Even now, when I see fools babbling about the Freemasons, the Illuminati, or some alleged Jewish financial cabal, all I can think is that the masses are truly ignorant. The Nazis really left behind a magnificently filthy mess. This technology will spread in every direction, and if it is to be deployed at all, success and feasibility must be weighed with ruthless precision. You can’t think you understand everything just because you looked at one piece and nothing else. Just like the Soviets."
"Why are you talking about them?"
"They’re not even worth calling names anymore. They’re going to collapse soon enough anyway, so let them run wild while they can. Like cicadas that live no more than seventeen years at best—you might as well let them scream their lungs out."
"Why do you think they’ll collapse? Haven’t you experienced their strength firsthand?"
"Once the grain-rich, industrial regions of Belarus and Ukraine were shattered at the outset, they would never have held without our support. And even then, with the war on two fronts, Nazi Germany had simply lost its mind; they’d have been pushed back eventually, but before that Leningrad, Moscow, and Stalingrad would have fallen. Knowing Stalin’s temperament, that alone would have been enough to make his blood boil. In the first place, communism denies capitalists outright, so it believes all profit can only be produced by workers. It assumes that if you set a fixed amount of labor, production can always be achieved accordingly. So if it fails to record the planned level of profit even once, the only conclusion is not that the party members themselves are incompetent, but that the workers didn’t labor properly. And that means the state spends its days arresting innocent people for sabotage and strikes, until in the end it distrusts the entire population and tightens its dictatorship even further, only to destroy itself. You know all this, so why do you keep denying it? It is true that one must not commit an offense in diplomacy, but if they’re eavesdropping this far, then they’re the ones who’ve crossed the line."
"So... what does that have to do with what you’re about to do?"
"Everything. The Soviets are probably rejoicing because they’ve obtained the Nordhausen relics intact. They don’t realize how vast the underground structures are beneath them, or that they’re crawling with monsters no one can ever defeat."
"So you’re trying to breed those monsters with humans?!"
"Of course. Those bastards are just Soviet scientists who once held American citizenship. They were the sons of bitches who tried to steal the fruits of our Manhattan Project. So consumed by distrust of capitalism and fantasies about communism that they even tried to defect to the Soviet Union. Foolish bastards. In communism, jobs are assigned to you, which means you’re forced to take work unrelated to your field, and you’re not even free to rest for a moment. They’re obsessed with the idea that success only comes through working yourself to death, so people like them—intellectuals—end up as troublesome burdens to be removed unless they can monopolize power. There is no mercy for traitors who abandoned their homeland for absurd reasons."
"I... I see. But honestly, is this really going to be okay?"
"It’ll be fine. From what I’ve observed, they possess a clear sense of self. Strangely enough, though they can convert their surroundings into the same substance as themselves, they can’t increase their numbers automatically. On top of that, it seems they lack regenerative ability; when one of them was blown to pieces, the fragments scattered everywhere, but the surrounding matter didn’t assimilate them. Instead, they vanished without a trace as if nothing had happened. So I suspected they might reproduce sexually rather than asexually. Unfortunately, in that mêlée I only captured one of them, so I don’t know what sex it is. That’s why I’m going to undress a male and a female, put them in together, and use that monster to observe the breeding process."
"I see... but I can’t watch any more. Do whatever you want."
"As you should. I only told you out of courtesy. It was your own will to come all the way here, wasn’t it? If that’s what you think, then go on and leave."
Click.
Beep.
Whiiirrr.
Ssshhhhhhhhhh.
The chilled Strange Zombie barriers were pulverized by Reagan’s impact, and in their place the blast from the frost projector I had brought began flooding the area with arctic wind, cooling everything at a rapid pace and preventing the Strange matter from spreading. Of course, no matter how close to absolute zero it was, it was impossible to freeze a body whole in an instant, and since I hadn’t directly frozen the barrier itself, nothing died immediately. But that didn’t change the fact that the only sensible response to a sudden plunge in body temperature was to run anywhere that wasn’t quite so freezing.
Heh... if that happens, they’ll end up too cold to do anything but cling to one another naked, and the monster will be no different. Then, if I shut off the arctic wind and restore the temperature to normal, the odds of a woman throwing a punch the instant she gets a moment to breathe are exactly 0%. Now then, let’s hear what they’re saying.
Click.
Srrrk... srrrk...
I disengaged silent mode and slowly raised the volume lever, listening closely.
"Aaaahhhhh!!!! D-don’t come any closer!!!!"
"Aaahhhhh!!!! S-save me!!!!"
And then, at that very moment, fluent German began to ring out.
"Ugh... you damned humans... I’ve heard the language you idiots babble so many times that I’ve memorized it by now. And besides, all of you start out like this, but soon enough you strike back and make us do everything for you! You think you’ll get away with it this time too? Not a chance!!!!"
Oh? Is that so? Then how about this?
To my surprise, I realized that this one wasn’t merely self-aware—it possessed intelligence and the capacity to learn. Rather than alarming me, that struck me as an excellent opportunity. After all, that meant it had spent its whole life knowing only two concepts: hostile species and its own species, in other words, allies and enemies. It could only ever have been a complete outsider to the existence of a third party, and to the very notion of one. At best, even if it thought hard, it could only conclude that one of its many enemies had happened to approach, making response difficult. As for me, I had spent time in the military gathering supplies, and had studied German in advance for camouflage in case of need, so conversation posed no problem.
I immediately modulated my voice into a tone so sharp and abrasive it could never be mistaken for human speech, and began to needle its nerves. Of course, that meant the man and woman trapped inside would suffer as well, but whether the Strange Zombie survived, became one, or died made no difference to me—what I had come to see was its method of reproduction, and nothing else.
Chiiiiiik.
"Ugh?! "
"Aaaah!!!!"
I first adjusted the frequency of the cathode-ray television in here, then cranked it up until it let out a deafening shriek. Using that frequency as a base, I matched it to the microphone I was speaking into, rendering my voice indistinguishable unless the listener possessed scientific technology so advanced that it could somehow wrestle cosmic background radiation itself. It was, of course, technology derived from the Nazi remnants developed in the course of controlling these Strange Zombie beings, but in truth our side had also developed a great number of secret weapons, and the authorization to use them belonged entirely to me—the man responsible for America’s command of the seas thanks to our monopoly on shipbuilding. (In fact, the United States had invested almost nothing in shipbuilding despite its overwhelming naval power, and the number of its factories was hardly large. Even so, 70 percent of the world’s total naval power came from the U.S. Navy.) That was why no one complained when I brought back Nazi secret weapons, prototype devices, and blueprints. Especially since Hyman Rickover would go on to leave a great mark on nuclear power, but even that was only because my family monopolized shipbuilding, leaving him no choice but to focus solely on nuclearization of the Navy instead of directly overseeing it; at the same time, since all procurement went through my family, it wasn’t something he had to worry about. Naturally, neither he nor the people scolding him, nor those being grilled by him in interviews, knew anything about me or my family.
"Yes, humans should all be like this. It’s normal. In a way, isn’t it rather simple?"
"W-what are you?!"
"For now, I’d prefer you believe that I am neither human nor of your species. I’m genuinely curious about what your species is. From what I’ve heard, humans have already done all sorts of things to you, so there’s no way they don’t know everything about you. How could I be human if I don’t know that?"
"Hmph... now that you put it that way, it does sound right. Fine, then what are you curious about?"
"First: what do you call your species?"
"We call ourselves Strange Zombies. Predators made of strange matter who roam the universe."
"Strange matter... Since I’m speaking in human language, you’re answering in human language as well, just as you said earlier. Fine, that’ll do. I can translate it later when I report to my own people. Then my second question: can you reproduce by yourself?"
"No, impossible. We reproduce sexually. And my sex is male."
"Is crossbreeding between species impossible?"
"It is possible."
"Then are you saying this strange transformation can also be controlled through your own power?"
"That is correct. If I were to compare it to Earth’s ecosystem, it would be like a hedgehog extending its spines only when attacked."
"I see. Then could you tell me in detail about your social structure as well?"
"Hmm, it’s a kind of elective monarchy. Everyone follows a single leader and serves that leader thoroughly until he steps down of his own accord or dies. After that, we elect again those who are overflowing with dignity. By the way, you say you don’t know much about us, but the fact that you can converse this far suggests you’re quite intelligent. These technologies were forcibly torn from us by humans, after all. Through all kinds of torture. That flamethrower still hurts like hell right now. I never thought I’d crash-land so damn deep... ugh... I’m still grinding my teeth whenever I think about that bastard."
What? Then the reason I led my unit into that massacre back then... was because I fought armed with ranged weapons against enemies charging me bare-handed?! Come to think of it, if they could control that transformation themselves, there was nothing strange about the act of creating it. But to think their intelligence was this high? Incredible. Fortunately, this one doesn’t seem to be a scientist or a psychologist.
"Just when I thought I’d finally managed to butcher all the humans and escape, who should appear but yet more humans... and those bastards were clever. They countered our weaknesses with weapons that endlessly generated our own weaknesses against us. Damn it, if only I’d had weapons, those bastards would’ve been nothing!!!"
This is bad. They were truly formidable. Charging even while absolutely disadvantaged and bare-handed... No, this won’t do. I need to strike early.
After recording our conversation meticulously on a phonograph and typewriter, I came to feel that I may have poked the wrong beast. Which meant that, as someone born in 1909, I would have no choice but to delay continuing the family line until later.
"Now then, I’ve said plenty, so it’s your turn to listen to me. Why, exactly, don’t you show yourself? Come out here already!"
But without even bothering to listen, I immediately fired Reagan remotely and killed the Strange Zombie.
Whooooom.
"Kuhhhhhhh!!!!"
Thud.
Beep.
Clack.
Clack.
Shuuuuu.
As I put the typewriter away and secured the Strange Zombie corpse, I thought to myself.
"Hmm. Since I’ve extracted information through interrogation, from here on I’ll have to fight the Strange Zombies as enemies and enemies alone. And the best way to do that is to make sure something other than us becomes their enemy. The Soviet Union is finished. Starting with Nordhausen, if similar relic sites are discovered all across the vast mainland, the upper leadership will lose all reason. As for those who wondered why the sites were discovered so cleanly and so empty, if too many counterexamples turn up they won’t be able to make sense of any of it. In that case, they’ll simply believe it as it stands."
And so, in order to make the Soviet Union turn its eyes toward the relic sites scattered across its territory outside the European Russian region and become the enemy of the Strange Zombies, I spent much of my time training flights here in Area 51, flying so high that they would appear to be an unidentified flying object, a UFO, and making the aircraft so quiet that even the sound was nearly inaudible. But during that period, Prime Minister Winston Churchill was openly discussing Operation Unthinkable with the Allied leaders, and if I explained my own operation in that situation, I judged that I would only be ridiculed and, worse, risk exposing myself to the public. So I pursued the research independently. As a result, around July 1947, communications with the New Mexico National Guard failed, and in the resulting catastrophe they mistook one of the aircraft I had been training for an enemy and shot it down.
That was the truth behind the Roswell UFO crash incident. From that moment on, I resolved to deceive even our allies in order to deceive the enemy, and informed all the top leadership of the United States that from the 1950s through the 1960s we would send covert reconnaissance flights using hypersonic aircraft flown at extreme altitudes for the purpose of obtaining Soviet military secrets. Then, with the cooperation of the other five families, I ordered them to ensure that all sightings—whether by soldiers or civilians, whether correctly seen or not—were simply recorded haphazardly in each country. And afterward, if the Soviet Union collapsed, I instructed them to have the U.S. government officially admit, six years later, that the incidents of the 1950s and 1960s had merely been secret reconnaissance planes all along. In any case, the mere existence of UFOs would soon force Joseph Stalin, who would come to view West Berlin as an eyesore, into one of two choices: either blockade every road leading to West Berlin and starve it to death, surrender West Berlin to the Allies, or else fight yet another world war. Since America and the Western bloc would not abandon West Berlin, and because with Curtis LeMay in place it was obvious they would devise and successfully carry out a plan to airlift massive quantities of essential supplies, the trauma was bound to remain.
And if that happened, Joseph Stalin would not live long under the accumulating stress, and his accomplishments would be diminished as well. Hah. Everything is proceeding exactly according to my plan and prediction. But let’s not grow careless. Soon or late, the great war has already begun...
And so I threw myself into advising and aiding the Berlin Airlift from June 24, 1948, to May 12, 1949, the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, and the final years of the Cold War in 1981, wreaking havoc all the while and ensuring that the Soviet Union suffered endlessly after falling into the traps I had laid for it.