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"Any time throughout history" the professor began,"when
there have been large numbers of reports of demonic
possession or witch hunts like the Salem Witch Trials of 1692,
what you actually have is a Foot~Hold situation.  Are there
such things as evil spirits?  Of course there are.  Does magic
really exist?  Of course it does, and you can bet that if
Earthlings know about it, others in the Cosmos do as well.  
They will use the Spirit Realm, Magic, to discover, develop and
augment their advanced technologies because paranormal
deposits are natural resources just like any other.
Malevolent and aggressive beings of extra terrestrial
intelligence target Earth with whatever elements of combat
they have in their arsenals.  Earth must defend itself against
these physical and metaphysical offensives.  The entire
Spanish Inquisition was, in reality, the inhabitants of Earth
repelling the attacks of hostile Alien Invaders from Space."
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What you see here is
the molecular structure
of the Demon Virus.  A
genetically engineered
infectious unit, a vector
born contagion
containing in its
nucleus one or more
evil spirits which are
activated to be released
once they are within 9
to 11 nanometers of a
human soul.  Such
close proximity to one's
ethereal essence is only
achieved when the
Demon Virus molecule
is pumped through the
victim's heart, actually
coming into contact
with the ventricle wall
as it passes through a
chamber.  The Demon
Virus was first
synthesized by
Dogmorfar the
Annihilator, a giant
among the great
thinkers of the
Zulderons, a race of
Hornbacks indigenous
to the ringed planet
Gargax, located in the
Balbour System 313
light years from
Aldebaran.  The formula
for the only known cure
for Demon Virus is
found among
hieroglyphics in the
Ancient Temple of  
Ramses the Great.  The
elixir components are
arranged into effective
working order by cross
referencing the
exponential immune
coefficient with the
stablization dimensions
of three specific cover
stones located in the
Giza Necropolis.  The
chemical formula is
accompanied by a
chant, or incantation,
which invokes the
power of Anubis in the
exorcism of the demons
from the afflicted
individual's body.
Dr. Blog has directed one of her clandestine contacts, The
Strong Man
, to bring Chamberlain to her secret
Underground Resistance Movement Laboratory hidden in
a network of tunnels beneath the Daily Council, a
newspaper in Washington, D.C.  Only one person at the
Daily Counsel, an investigative journalism reporter named
Giovanni Sampson, knows of Dr. Blog and her assistant,
Terabyte, working undercover in their cloaked hideaway
right underneath the thirteen story Daily Council
newspaper building within a mile of the Dupont Circle
Station.  On the streets and in the Underground, Giovanni
is known as
The Strong Man.  Of the 137 dedicated news
hounds who work at the Daily Counsel, only
The Strong
knows about the old catacombs concealed beneath
the foundation of the Daily Council headquarters building.  
Down below the first floor where the circulation desk is
housed.  Down below the basement where the printing
presses rumble out their monotonous drone pouring print
from their jowls like great, drooling dragons seven nights
a week.  Down into the subterranean alchemist's dungeon
is where
The Strong Man has to deliver Chamberlain.  
Chamberlain is wary, nervous, uncertain as he follows
Strong Man
through a trap door behind the deafening roar
of the main printing press and down through a labyrinth of
convoluted passageways.  Down through dark, dank, stale,
rat infested corridors until at last, the claustrophobic and
nearly panicked Chamberlain sees light and enters a
cavernous room filled with test tubes, beakers, bubbling
enmeyer flasks, coiled glass tubing, Bunsen burners
and computer terminals.  Two story high book shelves
wrap around the Lab's walls running over with cryptic
volumes.  The flagstones of the floor support long, heavy,
oaken work tables covered in scrolls and charts and
graphs and newspaper clippings.  In the center of this
great chamber hums what Chamberlain recognizes as a
giant, Cray SuperComputer.  A Legacy model, with 12~core
64~bit AMD Opteron 6000 series processor.  Up to 192 per
cabinet.  Were they still in production?  Chamberlin
couldn't get his thoughts together.  The stagnant air of the
low, narrow shaft through which they had passed had his
mind in a fog.  While struggling to regain his faculties
through a series of slow, deep breaths, Chamberlain
suddenly finds himself face to face with Dr. Blog.  A
clanking noise from a far corner of the Lab.  Chamberlain
casts a quick glance and there, behind a wall of Laboratory
equipment, skulks the tall, pale figure of her towering
assistant, Terabyte; his fiery, orange hair so bright that at
first Chamberlain thought him to be wearing a ball cap.
"You look a bit overwrought, Chamberlain.", Dr. Blog said
as she cast a cagey eye with a cocked brow over his
disheveled figure.
"I'll be alright in a minute," wheezed Chamberlain,"I just
need some air, just let me breath a moment."
"Don't like tight spaces, eh?" replied the professor as she
handed Chamberlain a beaker containing a clear liquid.
"Have some distilled water, it'll help settle your nerves."
Chamberlain cautiously reached for the beaker and testing
its contents with a noticeable sniff, began to sip slowly.  
The professor turned to
The Strong Man,"Thanks,
Sampson." she told him,"he'll be ok now.  You may return
to your snooping.  When we're done here, I'll show him
out the back way."  
The Strong Man nodded and
disappeared into the shadowy passage through which he
and Chamberlain had just stumbled.  
"The old abandoned subway tunnels." she assured
Chamberlain.  "A section of the Red Line that was never
used.  You'll find it roomier, not so constricting on your
air."  Chamberlain managed a wisp of a smile, but she
could tell the idea wasn't necessarily a comfort to him.  
One darkened, enclosed space was as bad as another as
far as Chamberlain was concerned.
She waited till he had completely composed himself then
tied together a long string of shocking facts around which
he found it difficult to get his mind wrapped.
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