The past, like the future, is indefinite and exists only as a spectrum of possibilities.
Stephen Hawking
Captain Matthew Teslow, United Stated Air Force, passed the authentication code to the cop on the other side of the glass window. He listened for the distinctive “beep-click” sound, then pulled back on the handle of the over-sized blast door.
“Matty, is that you?” A voice called from within the dimly lit room that was emerging from behind the heavy blast door as it slowly swung open.
“Yeah buddy, it’s me.” Matthew had to duck slightly through the threshold as he crossed into the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, or “SCIF” as it was more commonly known.
“You got your paperwork? You ready to get read in?” The voice belonged to a dark-haired wiry fellow who looked to be in his early thirties. Captain Joshua Mancowitz smiled at his friend from the head of a small conference table. Several large three-ring binders were spread open on the table in front of him.
“Why do you have it so dark in here, Man Cow? Aren’t you being a little bit theatrical?” Matthew walked over and showed him where the Special Security Officer had annotated his security folder to include special access to the CODEWORD RUBICON program.
“Maybe so. Maybe so.” Man Cow muttered absently as he looked over the SSO’s fresh signature on Matthew’s security folder. During Joshua Mancowitz's doolie year at the Air Force Academy in 1981, his buddies in the flight gave him the obvious call sign that had stuck with him ever since. Now a dozen years later, he was still Man Cow. Even the Group Commander referred to him that way.
“Is it too dark in here for you? Why don’t you flip up that light switch then, Matty? Let’s get you up to speed on RUBICON, okay? Close that big ole blast door and have a seat right here.” He pointed to the chair at his right.
For over an hour, Matthew listened intently as his friend flipped through binder after binder, explaining the Special Access Program known as RUBICON. At the start, Matthew's expression was neutral, showing simple attentiveness. Slowly though, his face cycled through several other emotions: wonder, then skepticism, then finally fear. When Man Cow at last closed the one remaining open binder and asked, "Any questions?" Matthew Teslow let out a long, low sigh and put his face in his hands.
After a moment Matthew lifted his head. "So let me see if I've got this right, Man Cow." He ticked off points with his fingers as he continued:
"One. Roswell wasn't about alien spacecraft, it was the first test of an operational TSG.
"Two. The 1954 Bilderberg Conference established the Summa Illuminati and the Shadow Forces, to develop the capabilities of the TSG and guard its secrets.
"Three. The Cold War and the space race between the United States and the Soviet Union was an elaborate misdirection to draw away the public's attention from the deployment of dozens of space-based TSGs.
"Four. Each modern TSG is capable of repackaging certain information from the present and transmitting it into the past, where the Summa Illuminati can decode it and act upon it, effectively gaining perfect insight into their future—our current—events.
"Five. And therefore, the Summa Illuminati can control every outcome. Free will is an illusion. The conspiracy theorists are right."
Matthew looked at his friend wryly. "Is that about right, Man Cow?"
Joshua Mancowitz chuckled. "Yeah that's about right, Matty." He reached over and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "But hey, it's not all so bleak. I heard McDonald's is bringing back the McRib full time soon!"
